The lighted wax-candles, the last rays of the sun stealing in through the windows of the house-of-study, the congregation entirely robed in white and enfolded in the prayer-scarfs, the intense seriousness depicted on all faces, the hum of voices, and the bitter weeping that penetrated from the women's gallery, all this suited Berel's mood, his contrite heart. Berel had recited the Prayer of Expiation with deep feeling; tears poured from his eyes, his own broken voice went right through his heart, every word found an echo there, and he felt it in every limb. Berel stood before God like a little child before its parents: he wept and told all that was in his heavily-laden heart, the full tale of his cares and troubles. Berel was pleased with himself, he felt that he was not saying the words anyhow, just rolling them off his tongue, but he was really performing an act of penitence with his whole heart. He felt remorse for his sins, and God is a God of compassion and mercy, who will certainly pardon him. "Therefore is my heart sad," began Berel, "that the sin which a man commits against his neighbor cannot be atoned for even on the Day of Atonement, unless he asks his neighbor's forgiveness ... therefore is my heart broken and my limbs tremble, because even the day of my death cannot atone for this sin." Berel began to recite this in pleasing, artistic fashion, weeping and whimpering like a spoiled child, and drawling out the words, when it grew dark before his eyes. Berel had suddenly become aware that he was in the position of one about to go in through an open door. He advances, he must enter, it is a question of life and death. And without any warning, just as he is stepping across the threshold, the door is shut from within with a terrible bang, and he remains standing outside. And he has read this in the Prayer of Expiation? With fear and fluttering he reads it over again, looking narrowly at every word--a cold sweat covers him--the words prick him like pins. Are these two verses his pitiless judges, are they the expression of his sentence? Is he already condemned? "Ay, ay, you are guilty," flicker the two verses on the page before him, and prayer and tears are no longer of any avail. His heart cried to God: "Have pity, merciful Father! A grown-up girl--what am I to do with her? And his father wanted to break off the engagement. As soon as I have earned the money, I will give it back...." But he knew all the time that these were useless subterfuges; the Lord of the Universe can only pardon the sin committed against Himself, the sin committed against man cannot be atoned for even on the Day of Atonement!