The old Rabbi Heymann, Leiser, and Burguet sat at my right, my little Sâfel, Hirsch, and Baruch at my left, and the women Sorlé, Zeffen, Jételé, and Boûné, facing us on the other side, according to the command of the Lord, that men and women should be separate at festivities. Burguet, with his white cravat, his handsome maroon coat and his ruffled shirt, did me honor. He made a speech, raising his voice and making fine gestures like a great orator--telling of the ancient customs of our nation, of our religious ceremonies, of _Paeçach_ (the feast of Passover), of _Rosch-haschannah_ (the New Year), of _Kippour_ (the day of expiation), like a true _Ied_ (Jew), thinking our religion very beautiful and glorifying the genius of Moses. He knew the _Lochene Koïdech_ (Chaldaic) as well as a _bal-kebolé_ (cabalistic doctor). The Saverne people turned to their neighbors and asked in a whisper: "Pray, who is this man who speaks with authority, and says such fine things? Is he a rabbi? Is he a _schamess_ (Jewish beadle)? or is he the _parness_ (civil head) of your community?" And when they learned he was not one of us, they were astonished. The old Rabbi Heymann alone was able to answer him, and they agreed on all points, like learned men talking on familiar subjects and conscious of their own learning. Behind us, on its grandmother's bed, inside of the curtains, slept our little Esdras, with his sweet face and little clinched hands--slept so soundly, that neither our shouts of laughter, nor the talking, nor the sound of the glasses could wake him. Sometimes one, sometimes another, went to look at him, and everybody said: "What a beautiful child! He looks like his grandfather Moses!" That pleased me, of course; and I would go and look at him, bending over him for a long while, and finding a still stronger resemblance to my father. At three o'clock, the meats having been removed and the delicacies spread upon the table, as we came to the dessert, I went down to find a bottle of better wine, an old bottle of Rousillon which I dug out from under the others, all covered with dust and cobwebs. I took it up carefully and placed it among the flowers on the table, saying: "You thought the other wine very good; what will you say to this?" Then Burguet smiled, for old wine was his special delight; he stretched up his hand and exclaimed: "Oh! noble wine, the consoler, the restorer and benefactor of poor men in this vale of misery! Oh, venerable bottle, thou bearest all the signs of old nobility!" He said this with his mouth full, and everybody laughed. I asked Sorlé to bring the corkscrew. As she was rising, suddenly trumpets sounded without, and we all listened and asked, "What is that?" At the same time the sound of many horses' steps came up the street, and the earth and the houses trembled under an enormous weight. Everybody sprang up, throwing down their napkins and rushing to the windows.