About the same time things began to go ill with Levi, the tax-gatherer, who lived on the road to Tiberias.

One morning his fellow-residents prepared a discordant serenade for him.

They pointed out to Levi with animation, from the roof of his house, in what honour he was held, by means of the rattling of trays and clashing of pans, since he had accepted service with the heathen as toll-keeper and demanded money even on the Sabbath.
The lean tax-gatherer sat in a corner of his room and saw the dust fly from the ceiling, which seemed to shake beneath the clatter.

He saw, too, how the morning sun shining in at the window threw a band of light across the room, in which danced particles of dust like little stars.
He listened, and saw, and was silent.

When they had had enough of dancing on the roof they jumped to the ground, made grimaces at the window, and departed.
A little, bustling woman came out of the next room, stole up to the man, and said: "Levi, it serves you right!" "Yes, I know, Judith," he answered, and stood up.