Sad and dissatisfied, she shook her head, ill content with the plan her husband had devised. But she did not care to question further, and recalled her duties as hostess. And thus she took in under her roof him who had been sent as the touchstone of her virtue, and gave him the room of Rabbi Mayer her husband. If the agents should come, there could be no doubt that he was Rabbi Mayer, head of the Yeshiva, who had left his Academy and his students and was living a secluded life at home, in the company of his beautiful wife. VI Simeon entered into Rabbi Mayer’s dwelling, which was to be his own for all of thirty days, and sat down to study. He knew that his voice was sweet and clear, and very masculine, so he began to read from the sacred books aloud. And it seemed to him that were he to draw aside the curtain which separated Rabbi Mayer’s study from the other rooms he would discover Beruriah listening to his voice as he read. He felt her presence, heard her breathing, inhaled her perfume. But he rubbed his forehead to banish these alien thoughts. He desired to study zealously, that Beruriah might detect nothing artificial in his actions, and yet in such wise, too, that the Holy Law be not affronted, and God cherish no anger against him. For the first three days they saw nothing of each other. His food was brought to him by the aged servant, and whenever he left his room he would walk to the outside door with lowered eyes, looking neither to right nor to left, as one engrossed in deep and ponderous thoughts, afraid to be disturbed. Only on the evening of the fourth day did they meet, for it was the Sabbath eve and he recited grace and sang holy songs, blessing God for their food in a pious voice that was at once inspired and inspiring. And he knew that he was very beautiful, and that the sight of him was as balm to the soul, and that his voice was glorious,—a Sabbath-joy to hear. He looked but rarely at Beruriah; when, however, he raised his eyes to hers, she was pierced by a vague, deep glance, filled with a manly power, yet very sad. And the colour of his eyes was as deeply dark as night, within them dancing the many lights that shone in the room and on the table, doing honour to the Sabbath. And at night, on his couch, he began to sing, into the darkness of his room, various passages from the Bible, which he knew by heart. Among these were many of the most passionate lines of the Song of Songs. He sang with repressed tones, so that he disturb the sleep of none,—yet his voice filled the entire dwelling with sweet melancholy and deep unrest.