himself comfortably in his loose, Sabbath dressing-gown of blue silk.  Yes, it must be the Sabbath, for the flowered cover was spread on the table, all the utensils in the room were polished like looking-glasses, the white-bearded usher sat beside her father, eating raisins and talking in Hebrew; even little Abraham came in with a very large book, and modestly begged leave of his uncle to expound a portion of the Holy Scripture, that he might prove that he had learned much during the past week, and therefore deserved much praise—­and a corresponding quantity of cakes....  Then the lad laid the book on the broad arm of the chair, and set forth the history of Jacob and Rachel—­how Jacob raised his voice and wept when he first saw his cousin Rachel, how he talked so confidingly with her by the well, how he had to serve seven years for her, and how quickly the time passed, and how he at last married and loved her for ever and ever....  Then all at once Beautiful Sara remembered how her father cried with merry voice, “Wilt thou not also marry thy cousin Sara like that?” To which little Abraham gravely replied, “That I will, and she shall wait seven years too.”  These memories stole like twilight shadows through the soul of the young wife, and she recalled how she and her little cousin—­now so great a man and her husband—­played together as children in the leafy tabernacle; how delighted they were with the gay carpets, flowers, mirrors, and gilded apples; how little Abraham caressed her more and more tenderly, till little by little he began to grow larger and more self-interested, and at last became a man and scarcely noticed her at all....  And now she sits in her room alone on a Saturday evening; the moon shines in brightly.  Suddenly the door flies open, and cousin Abraham, in traveling garb, and as pale as death, enters, grasps her hand, puts a gold ring on her finger, and says, solemnly, “I hereby take thee to be my wife, according to the laws of God and of Israel.”  “But now,” he adds, with a trembling voice, “now I must go to Spain.  Farewell!  For seven years thou must wait for me.”  With that he hurried away, and Sara, weeping, told the tale to her father, who roared and raged, “Cut off thy hair, for thou art now a married woman.”  Then he wanted to ride after Abraham to compel him to write a letter of divorce; but Abraham was over the hills and far away, and the father silently returned to his house.  And when Beautiful Sara was helping him to draw off his boots, and trying to soothe him, saying that Abraham would return in seven years, he cursed, and cried, “Seven years shalt thou be a beggar,” and shortly after he died.