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The musician seemed amazed at his own song; he dropped the

hammers from his hands and raised his arms aloft; his fox-skin

cap dropped from his head to his shoulders; his uplifted beard

waved majestically; his cheeks glowed with a strange flush; in

his glance, full of spirit, shone the lire of youth. At last,

when the old man turned his eyes on Dombrowski, he covered them

with his hands, and from under his hands gushed a stream of

tears.

"General," said he, "long has our Lithuania awaited thee-long,

even as we Jews have awaited the Messiah; of thee in olden times

minstrels prophesied among the folk; thy coming was heralded by a

marvel in the sky. Live and wage war, O thou our-"

As he spoke, he sobbed; the honest Jew loved his country like a

Pole! Dombrowski extended his hand to him and thanked him;

Jankiel, doffing his cap, kissed the leader's hand.