"Why? Why?" He asked himself over and over. "To do such a thing to _me_! Well, there you are! There you have it!--You've lived your life--like a man!--" His heart felt heavy and hurt him, and his brain grew warm, warm. In one minute there ran through his head the impression which his so nearly finished life had made on him of late, and immediately after it all the plans he had thought out for setting to right his whole past life by means of the little bit left him. And now it was all over and done! "Why? Why?" he asked himself without ceasing, and could not understand it. He felt his old heart bursting with love to all men. It beat more and more strongly, and would not cease from loving; and he would fain have seen everyone so happy, so happy! He would have worked with his last bit of strength, he would have drawn his last breath for the cause to which he had devoted himself. He is no longer conscious of the whereabouts of his limbs, he feels his head growing heavier, his feet cold, and it is dark before his eyes. When he came to himself again, he was in bed; on his head was a bandage with ice; the old wife was lamenting; the teachers stood not far from the bed, and talked among themselves. He wanted to lift his hand and draw it across his forehead, but somehow he does not feel his hand at all. He looks at it--it lies stretched out beside him. And Reb Shloimeh understood what had happened to him. "A stroke!" he thought, "I am finished, done for!" He tried to give a whistle and make a gesture with his hand: "Verfallen!" but the lips would not meet properly, and the hand never moved. "There you are, done for!" the lips whispered. He glanced round, and fixed his eyes on the teachers, and then on his wife, wishing to read in their faces whether there was danger, whether he was dying, or whether there was still hope. He looked, and could not make out anything. Then, whispering, he called one of the teachers, whose looks had met his, to his side. The teacher came running. "Done for, eh?" asked Reb Shloimeh. "No, Reb Shloimeh, the doctors give hope," the teacher replied, so earnestly that Reb Shloimeh's spirits revived. "Nu, nu," said Reb Shloimeh, as though he meant, "So may it be! Out of your mouth into God's ears!" The other teachers all came nearer. "Good?" whispered Reb Shloimeh, "good, ha? There's a hero for you!" he smiled. "Never mind," they said cheeringly, "you will get well again, and work, and do many things yet!" "Well, well, please God!" he answered, and looked away. And Reb Shloimeh really got better every day. The having lived wisely and the will to live longer saved him. The first time that he was able to move a hand or lift a foot, a broad, sweet smile spread itself over his face, and a fire kindled in his all but extinguished eyes.