appeared to him during the few days of their happy lives at Semsa.
But now he began to wonder if time had not changed her since then. Two
months and a half--it seemed so long! He had visions of Naomi grown from
a sweet girl to a lovely woman. A great soul beamed out of her big,
slow eyes. He himself approached her meekly, humbly, reverently.
Nevertheless, he was her father still--her old, tired, dim-eyed father;
and she led him here and there, and described things to him. He could
see and hear it all. First Naomi's voice: "A bow in the sky--red, blue,
crimson--oh!" Then his own deeper one, out of its lightsome darkness: "A
rainbow, child!" Ah! the dreams were beautiful!

He tried to recall the very tones of Naomi's voice--the voice of his
poor dead Ruth--and to remember the song that she used to sing--the song
she sang in the patio on that great night of the moonlight, when he
was returning home from the Bab Ramooz, and heard her singing from the
street--

Within my heart a voice
Bids earth and heaven rejoice.

He sang the song to himself as he toiled along. With a little lisp he
sang it, so that he might cheat himself and think that the voice he was
making was Naomi's voice and not his own.

Towards midday Israel came under the walls of Tetuan, between the
Sultan's gardens and the flour-mills that are turned by the escaping
sewers, and there he lit upon a company of Jews. They were a deputation
that had come out from the town to meet him, and at first sight of his
face they were shocked. He had left Tetuan a stricken man, it was true,
but strong and firm, fifty years of age and resolute. Six months had