While yet he thought upon these things, there came a loud cry at his gate.

“Awake, thou sleeper!” said the voice; “Awake!  A child is in danger of death, and the mother hath sent me for thee that thou may’st do thine office.”

“The night is dark and gloomy,” said the Rabbi, coming to his casement, “and mine age is great; are there not younger men than I in Cairo?”

“For thee only, Rabbi Jochonan, whom some call the wise, but whom others call Rabbi Jochonan the miser, was I sent.  Here is gold,” said he, taking out a purse of sequins—­“I want not thy labour for nothing.  I adjure thee to come, in the name of the living God.”

So the Rabbi thought upon the vow he had just made, and he groaned in spirit, for the purse sounded heavy.

“As thou hast adjured me by that name, I go with thee,” said he to the man, “but I hope the distance is not far.  Put up thy gold.”

“The place is at hand,” said the stranger, who was a gallant youth, in magnificent attire.  “Be speedy, for time presses.”

Jochonan arose, dressed himself, and accompanied the stranger, after having carefully locked up all the doors of his house, and deposited his keys in a secret place—­at which the stranger smiled.

“I never remember,” said the Rabbi, “so dark a night.  Be thou to me as a guide, for I can hardly see the way.”

“I know it well,” replied the stranger with a sigh, “it is a way much frequented, and travelled hourly by many; lean upon mine arm and fear not.”

They journeyed on; and though the darkness was great, yet the Rabbi could see, when it occasionally brightened, that he was in a place strange to him.  “I thought,” said he, “I knew all the country for leagues about Cairo, yet I know not where I am.  I hope, young man,” said he to his companion, “that thou hast not missed the way;” and his heart misgave him.

“Fear not,” returned the stranger.  “Your journey is even now done,” and, as he spoke, the feet of the Rabbi slipped from under him, and he rolled down a great height.  When he recovered, he found that his companion had fallen also, and stood by his side.

“Nay, young man,” said the Rabbi, “if thus thou sportest with the grey hairs of age, thy days are numbered.  Wo unto him who insults the hoary head!”

The stranger made an excuse, and they journeyed on some little further in silence.  The darkness grew less, and the astonished Rabbi, lifting up his eyes, found that they had come to the gates of a city which he had never before seen.  Yet he knew all the cities of the land of Egypt, and he had walked but half an hour from his dwelling in Cairo.  So he knew not what to think, but followed the man with trembling.