"Good luck to you!" he cried out to those around. He was very cheerful in himself, and began to think once more about doing something or other. "People must be taught, they must be taught, even if the world turn upside down," he thought, and rubbed his hands together with impatience. "If it's not to be in the Talmud Torah, it must be somewhere else!" And he set to work thinking where it should be. He recalled all the neighbors to his memory, and suddenly grew cheerful. Not far away there lived a bookbinder, who employed as many as ten workmen. They work sometimes from fifteen to sixteen hours, and have no strength left for study. One must teach _them_, he thinks. The master is not likely to object. Reb Shloimeh was the making of him, he it was who protected him, introduced him into all the best families, and finally set him on his feet. Reb Shloimeh grows more and more lively, and is continually trying to rise from his couch. Once out of bed, he could hardly endure to stay in the room, and how happy he felt, when, leaning on a stick, he stept out into the street! He hurried in the direction of the bookbinder's. He was convinced that people's feelings toward him had changed for the better, that they would rejoice on seeing him. How he looked forward to seeing a friendly smile on every face! He would have counted himself the happiest of men, if he had been able to hope that now everything was different, and would come right. But he did not see the smile. The town looked upon the apoplectic stroke as God's punishment--it was obvious. "Aha!" they had cried on hearing of it, and everyone saw in it another proof, and it also was "obvious"--of the fact that there is a God in the world, and that people cannot do just what they like. The great fanatics overflowed with eloquence, and saw in it an act of Heavenly vengeance. "Serves him right! Serves him right!" they thought. "Whose fault is it?" people replied, when some one reminded them that it was very sad--such a man as he had been, "Who told him to do it? He has himself to thank for his misfortunes." The town had never ceased talking of him the whole time. Every one was interested in knowing how he was, and what was the matter with him. And when they heard that he was better, that he was getting well, they really were pleased; they were sure that he would give up all his foolish plans, and understand that God had punished him, and that he would be again as before. But it soon became known that he clung to his wickedness, and people ceased to rejoice. The Rabbi and his fanatical friends came to see him one day by way of visiting the sick. Reb Shloimeh felt inclined to ask them if they had come to stare at him as one visited by a miracle, but he refrained, and surveyed them with indifference. "Well, how are you, Reb Shloimeh?" they asked. "Gentiles!" answered Reb Shloimeh, almost in spite of himself, and smiled. The Rabbi and the others became confused.