Israel's face had been worn and tired before, but now it looked very old and faded.

His black hair had been sprinkled with grey, and now it was white; and white also was his dark beard, which had grown long and ragged.

But his eye glistened, and his teeth were aglitter in his open mouth.

He was laughing at everything, yet not wildly, not recklessly, not without meaning or intention, but with the cheer of a happy and contented man.
Israel was mad, and his madness was a moving thing to look upon.

He thought he was back at home and a rich man still, as he had been in earlier days, but a generous man also, as he was in later ones.