He had a house of his own and a store. His wife took care of
       the store, and he at home studied Torah and Talmud.
His store was burned down. In those days they were not
       insured, but still he had the house.
He rented all of it but a room where he stayed and studied.
Once, when he was saying the morning prayer, Mendel, one
       of his tenants, came to him and said, “My son, the
       lawyer, has been arrested; won’t you sign his bond here?”
It was not a bail bond but a deed; and in a few months
       Mendel made him move out of the house.
He went to a lawyer. The lawyer told him, “We can get the house back easily.”
“What will they do to Mendel” “Send him to Siberia.”
       “Would it be right for me to put a Jew into the hands of goyim?”
He had to give children lessons in Hebrew. His son became a
       glazier. While working in another town his son died.
His daughter-in-law baked begel and his grandchildren sold them in the streets.

One day Mendel came to ask forgiveness.
He, too, had lost his money, and his son, too, the lawyer, had died.
He turned his face from Mendel; and so they stood, two old men.