This decision gave him courage, he washed his hands, and sat down again to the Psalms. Every few minutes he glanced at the window, to see if it were not beginning to dawn, and if Reb Moisheh Chalfon were not coming along to Shool. The day broke. With the first sunbeams Berel's fears and terrors began little by little to dissipate and diminish. His resolve to restore the hundred rubles weakened considerably. "If I don't confess," thought Berel, wrestling in spirit with temptation, "I risk my world-to-come.... If I do confess, what will my Chantzeh-Leah say to it? He writes, either the wedding takes place, or the contract is dissolved! And what shall I do, when his father gets to hear about it? There will be a stain on my character, the marriage contract will be annulled, and I shall be left ... without my good name and ... with my ugly old maid.... "What is to be done? Help! What is to be done?" The people began to gather in the Shool. The reader of the Morning Service intoned "He is Lord of the Universe" to the special Yom Kippur tune, a few householders and young men supported him, and Berel heard through it all only, Help! What is to be done? And suddenly he beheld Moisheh Chalfon. Berel quickly rose from his place, he wanted to make a rush at Moisheh Chalfon. But after all he remained where he was, and sat down again. "I must first think it over, and discuss it with my Chantzeh-Leah," was Berel's decision. * * * * * Berel stood up to pray with the congregation. He was again wishful to pray with fervor, to collect his thoughts, and attend to the meaning of the words, but try as he would, he couldn't! Quite other things came into his head: a dream, a fair, a horse, Moisheh Chalfon, Chantzeh-Leah, oats, barley, _this_ world and the next were all mixed up together in his mind, and the words of the prayers skipped about like black patches before his eyes. He wanted to say he was sorry, to cry, but he only made curious grimaces, and could not squeeze out so much as a single tear. Berel was very dissatisfied with himself. He finished the Morning Prayer, stood through the Additional Service, and proceeded to devour the long Piyyutim. The question, What is to be done? left him no peace, and he was really reciting the Piyyutim to try and stupefy himself, to dull his brain. So it went on till U-Nesanneh Toikef. The congregation began to prepare for U-Nesanneh Toikef, coughed, to clear their throats, and pulled the Tallesim over their heads. The cantor sat down for a minute to rest, and unbuttoned his shroud. His face was pale and perspiring, and his eyes betrayed a great weariness. From the women's gallery came a sound of weeping and wailing. Berel had drawn his Tallis over his head, and started reciting with earnestness and enthusiasm: