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ISAIAH 
 
 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM, 
 
 AND OTHER STORIES. 
 
IDAUGHTERS 
 
 OF .^ i^ ^ ^ 
 
 ISHEM AND < . 
 
 other stories, by 
 Samuel Gordon, ^ 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A HANDFUL 
 OF EXOTICS," &c. ^ ^ 
 
 LONDON: GREENBERG & CO 
 80, CHANCERY LANE, W.C. 1898. 
 
LONDON 
 PRINTED BV WERTHEIMER, LEA AND CO. 
 ' [ I *tiRCUS PlIfAgte/Lt^NfJON \VALL 
 
 >U>. -^'^ll^si^o ;: 
 
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 Co m^ parents. 
 
 M18300 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http.://www.archive.org/details/daughtersofshemoOOgordrich 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM 
 
 THE SUNKEN KINGDOM 
 
 THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK 
 
 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE 
 
 ON THE ROAD TO ZION 
 
 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF GRANDMOTHER 
 HINDELAH 
 
 THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE 
 
 MUMMER AND MORALIST 
 
 THE GRANDCHILDREN 
 
 THE BROKEN PANE 
 
 PUGGY'S REVOLT 
 
 TO THE GLORY OF GOD 
 
 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE 
 
 THE LEADER 
 
 79 / 
 
 92 
 107 
 129 
 
 145 
 
 170 s 
 
 188 
 
 207 
 
 218 V 
 
 227 
 
 239 
 
 251 
 
 293 
 
BV THE SAME AUTHOR: 
 
 A HANDFUL OF EXOTICS 
 
 (Methuen & Co.) 
 
 IN YEARS OF TRANSITION 
 
 (Bi.iss, Sands & Co. 
 A TALE OF TWO RINGS 
 
 (Raphael Tuck S: Sons.) 
 
Daughters of Sbem. 
 
 A STUDY IN SISTERS. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE shop stood in the very centre of the town. 
 One could determine this with almost 
 mathematical precision, for the place was styled a 
 town less on its merits than by geographical 
 courtesy ; as a matter of fact it consisted of a single 
 street — all frontage — which, starting from the shop, 
 took a few strides to the right, as many, or as few, 
 to the left, and then broke off abruptly. It enjoyed, 
 however, the distinction of being one of the half 
 dozen frontier stations within the railway radius, 
 the main object of which is to render the lives of 
 travellers passing in and out of the land of the 
 shadow of the Czar as much a burden to themselves 
 as possible. Woe to the improvident passenger 
 whose passport shows the slightest flaw or dis- 
 crepancy. The double-headed eagle of Russia has 
 sharp eyes and sharper claws, and he can strike 
 hard, unless one has the means and the presence 
 of mind to soothe the ruffled feelings of his myrmi- 
 dons. As a rule, palm oil will be found very effec- 
 tive. If you succeed in running the bureaucratic 
 gauntlet you are allowed to get off with the fright, 
 and the conviction that the Russian frontier is a 
 beautiful thing in the retrospect. If you do not, 
 you become an object of tender solicitude to sundry 
 
t DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 '"gendarmes' till ,eid vices arrive whether and whither 
 
 you are'to be 'expedited by special escort. 
 '.^J j/Tp:^egin:aga?ri, then. The shop stood in the 
 middle of the town. It was a miscellaneous dep6t 
 of salt herrings, treacle, Limburg cheese, and every- 
 thing else which could go to make it a large-sized 
 spice-box. Its atmosphere, in consequence, was a 
 downright extravagance ; condensed in jars, it 
 could have been sold as an original kind of condi- 
 ment. But Zillah was used to it by now. She 
 had been born into it, though she could never make 
 out how, under the circumstances, she had survived 
 her birth. 
 
 Just now she was serving in the shop, as usual ; 
 that is, she was seated behind the counter absorbed 
 in her book, while Yeiteles, the boy-of-all-work, 
 attended to the customers, and handed her the 
 money, which Zillah never checked. For Zillah 
 did nothing but read — not the homespun lucubra- 
 tions of the Jargon literature, but real German 
 novels by Franzos, and Marlitt, and Spielhagen. 
 When she was nine, and her sister, Salka, seven, 
 th-ey had been sent to their uncle, a well-to-do 
 shopkeeper in an East Prussian provincial capital, 
 to get a little schooling. Salka did not go back to 
 him after the first holidays, because all the time 
 she had been dying of home-sickness ; not even 
 the beautiful name of Rosalie, which her girl-cousins 
 had promised to give her, could prompt her to re- 
 turn. But Zillah came back, term after term, till 
 she was sixteen, because she did not notice the 
 silent protest in her parents' eyes, the unspoken 
 admonition that it was time she should cast anchor 
 at their hearth ; and when at last there came tan- 
 gible cause for her to stay with them she obeyed, 
 but with a heart gnawed to the core by discontent. 
 It was her mother's illness that had called Zillah 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM, 3 
 
 back to the hole-and-corner life in the dreary 
 frontier town, just as her eyes were beginning to 
 open on the manifold glories and gladness of the 
 outer world — her ears to catch the loudening echoes 
 of its thousand-voiced laughter, her soul to feel its 
 life-joy, that leavened her placid girlhood with a 
 subtle presage of possible delights. Aye, just then 
 she had to leave it all ; but she brought the memory 
 of it, a precious contraband, back with her into 
 captivity, three months of which had ripened her 
 into a woman. One grows old quickly in prison. 
 And to her woman's fancy, that intensified the girl's 
 dream, these things seemed more desirable, more 
 alluring, because of the iron restraint that hemmed 
 in her young life. Not fifty yards from the house 
 loomed up the cross-barred frontier-gate, where the 
 sentries' bayonets gleamed night and day, and fierce- 
 eyed, impatient bloodhounds yelped disconsolately. 
 And beyond them lay the fairyland from which she 
 had been banished ; the gladsome companionship 
 of the wider, larger life she so often dwelt on with 
 hungering memory. Every evening, as she heard 
 the rattle of the massive ring-chain being drawn 
 across the gate-posts, she felt the world was locked 
 amid the hard metallic laughter of her malignant 
 fate. 
 
 That was her horizon without. And within, the 
 same narrowness ; the same choking of the tether. 
 Three human souls, just three, peopled her 
 universe. The bedridden, unrepining mother ; the 
 equally patient sister, who had made it her task to 
 fan the flickering life back to a fuller blaze ; and 
 the sturdy quick-witted father, who was constantly 
 traversing the country's breadth to pile yet higher 
 the contents of the stout oaken safe ; and report 
 had it that Anshel Markovitz was a prosperous 
 man. On these three, then, Zillah expended what 
 
4 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 emotions were not crushed within her by the 
 leaden-footed routine. She gave them all her 
 heart ; and yet, when they thought her closest to 
 them, she was roving through an enchanting 
 wonder-world whither they did not accompany her 
 ■ — the world she had fashioned for herself out of 
 the books she was for ever reading — reading — 
 reading. 
 
 Five years lay between her final return from 
 Germany, and this sultry late-summer afternoon. 
 There was little or no business, and Yeiteles had 
 utilised the fact by going to sleep in an empty 
 herring barrel ; the salt smell made his throat 
 very dry, and he wheezed raucously. Zillah sat in 
 a wicker chair, her hands toying idly in her lap 
 with the book they held. She was dreaming — the 
 same old dreams of the far-away, the unattainable. 
 She got tired of that as well. Wearily she rose 
 and stepped to the door ; the shop was stifling. 
 The street appeared empty, but no — just then old 
 Torkov, the hunch-back idiot, came hobbling 
 round the corner. Just in front of Zillah he 
 stopped, his gaze caught by a putrefying apple 
 on the pavement — the pigs had over-sighted it 
 because they preferred nosing in the garbage of 
 the open road. With a squeal of joy Torkov 
 snatched up his treasure-trove and devoured it as 
 he shambled on. Zillah looked after him with a 
 curious smile on her face. 
 
 " God was good to you, Torkov," she murmured 
 at last, " better than to me. If only I had been 
 born like that — inwardly and outwardly." 
 
 Then she went back to her wicker chair and the 
 German novel. Yeiteles, awakened by her step, 
 sat up with a snort and rubbed his eyes. Another 
 footfall was heard from the back of the shop, and 
 Salka came in softly. 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHE M.- ^ 
 
 "Mother is asleep," she said; " I'll just run down 
 to the post and see if there is a letter from father. 
 If mother calls " 
 
 Zillah nodded silently. She always saved words 
 where signs sufficed ; perhaps it was that which 
 had stamped the pathos on her lips. 
 
 Salka was considerably longer over her errand 
 than was usually the case, so much so that she felt 
 it necessary to give an explanation on her return. 
 
 "The police Commissioner is dead — died sud- 
 denly," she said ; " I stayed to hear all about it. 
 Everybody is wondering what the new man will 
 be like. There is a lot of excitement." 
 . "Yes, a death is the only thing that makes folks 
 here know they are alive," commented Zillah. " Is 
 there a letter?" 
 
 "Oh, I nearly forgot," stammered Salka, con- 
 fused at having apparently neglected their father 
 on account of a stranger ; " yes, a big one — I can 
 feel by the envelope. Shall we wait till mother 
 wakes up?" 
 
 " No," said Zillah ; " if there is good news she 
 will hear it twice — once from our telling and again 
 from the reading. If, God forbid, something is 
 not as it ought to be, we shall know what to leave 
 out." 
 
 And slowly she ripped open the cover, while 
 Salka looked at her with shining eyes. It was a 
 very big letter — twice the ordinary length ; it began 
 by saying that the writer was well and that busi- 
 ness was flourishing, and went on to detail with 
 much circumstance the bargains he had driven, as 
 well as the course of his journeys. A puzzled look 
 came over Zillah's face as she read. 
 
 " I don't know," she suddenly interrupted herself, 
 " father never writes like that. There's something 
 he has to say and is putting off — ah, here it is." 
 
6 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 She had skimmed the next page hurriedly, and 
 had found what she searched for. It ran as fol- 
 lows : " And now, my dear ones, I have joyful 
 tidings for you ; like a miser his gold, so have I 
 been eking out the pleasure of it to the utmost. I 
 am returning to you this day week, and not alone. 
 I am bringing with me — but I shall not say whom, 
 only that a great honour is being done to our house. 
 You will be pleased with me. So content yourself 
 meantime with the knowledge that wherever I go, 
 whatever I do, my children's happiness is nearest 
 my heart." 
 
 Zillah paused and looked questions at her sister. 
 The latter only answered with a mischievous smile* 
 
 " Tell me — what does it mean ? You seem to be 
 in the secret," urged Zillah. 
 
 "You know too, if not, I will give you a hint — 
 you were twenty-one this summer." 
 
 " Well 1 " asked Zillah, keeping down her up- 
 struggling suspicion of the truth. 
 
 " And father took your photograph away with 
 him." 
 
 Zillah started back, pale to the lips. Then she 
 looked round quickly ; the shop was empty. 
 Yeiteles had sneaked out to verify the report of 
 the Commissioner's death. 
 
 " It means — my marriage," she whispered. 
 
 Salka was about to assent, with a merry laugh 
 at the well-planned surprise; but she stopped short 
 when she saw Zillah's mouth contract as with the 
 pain of a sudden wound. 
 
 "Oh, anything but that," came piteously from 
 the puckered lips, "anything but that, Salka. Why 
 should it be ? Do I complain ? Do I say I am 
 dissatisfied ? All I ask is to be left to myself. I 
 don't want to belong to anyone else. I want to be 
 my own — and yours. I am to be given to a man 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 7 
 
 into whose face I have never looked, whose voice I 
 have never heard, to be his inalienably, while I 
 may be gasping for liberty ; what shall I do, sister 
 of mine, what shall I do ? " 
 
 Salka's eyes drooped because they were heavy 
 with the mist of tears. " Trust father," she replied, 
 after a while ; " he is not the man to make mistakes. 
 I am certain he has satisfied himself that your 
 husband-to-be is all one can desire. Does he not 
 say he is always thinking of our happiness ? " 
 
 " Who says I am not happy ? " asked Zillah 
 eagerly ; " am I to go about laughing and singing 
 with the shadow of mother's illness in the house ? 
 But if that is not enough, I shall promise him he 
 will never see a frown on my face, never a vexed 
 look ; but he must not force me to this." 
 
 "It will grieve him — and mother," said Salka, 
 quietly. 
 
 Zillah clenched her hands. 
 
 " I have never thought of myself," she said, 
 almost harshly, " it was always of them ; well, they 
 must also be generous for once." Then her eyes 
 lit up. " Suppose the man does not care for me, 
 after all ? " she broke off suddenly. 
 
 Salka came a step nearer, and silently turned 
 her sister's face to the light ; then as silently she 
 shook her head. 
 
 " You think he will approve of me ? " said Zillah 
 despairingly. 
 
 " Who would not ? " replied Salka. 
 
 There was a slight tapping overhead. 
 
 " Mother's awake — that's her knock," continued 
 Salka hurriedly ; " come, we must read her the 
 letter." 
 
 Zillah held her back. 
 
 " Not a word — don't tell her how I think of it," 
 she whispered ; "another time, when she is istronger." 
 
S DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 Salka nodded, and led the way up to thfe 
 spacious, airy bedroom. A pale, wasted woman 
 smiled on them happily, as they entered. 
 
 " Good news from father," cried Salka ; " listen — " 
 
 But the next moment Zillah had taken the letter 
 out of her hand. 
 
 " I am the elder," she said simply. Steady and 
 clear her voice gave out every word — without a 
 quaver, even when she came to the tidings at 
 which her heart had rebelled. 
 
 The happy smile deepened in her mother's eyes, 
 and then the thin little voice said : 
 
 "Thank God — so he has succeeded. Zillah, 
 kiss me. That was a cold kiss, but perhaps it is 
 my fault ; my lips are never warm. In a week's 
 time, then?" 
 
 Salka stood at the window. 
 
 " Some people have gone into the shop, Zillah," 
 she called. 
 
 And Zillah went downstairs, thanking Providence 
 for such a sister. 
 
 II. 
 
 It was the following afternoon. From the door- 
 way of the shop Zillah was staring into infinity. 
 Over night she had had ample time to grasp the 
 situation more clearly, and to gaze deeper into her 
 heart ; both which things did not tend to make her 
 happier. It was not merely the thought of being 
 handed over, bound hand and foot, to an utter 
 stranger, which agonised her ; but with such a 
 marriage she knew full well her last chance of 
 redeeming herself from the trammels of her present 
 bondage was gone irretrievably. For the man who 
 had gained the approval of her parents so signally 
 as this projected husband of hers seemed to have 
 done, could not but stand in complete accord with 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 9 
 
 their views and ways and wishes. And their views 
 and ways were not always hers. Their wishes had 
 always found her obedient ; all the rebelling she 
 had done had always been against herself. But 
 now she was asked to lock the portals of her 
 prison and throw away the key. She was to be 
 burdened with duties that were but a euphemism 
 for menial service. She would be a household 
 drudge, weaving day to day and year to year, 
 without a knot in the texture to mark where an 
 event had broken the faceless uniformity. That 
 was the fate of all the women she knew ; only they 
 had harnessed themselves willingly in their traces 
 :— nay more, they flaunted them, as a badge of 
 honour, in the eyes of those who had not yet 
 become yoke-fellows. But these women had not 
 been given understanding ; the world's cry rang in 
 their ears inarticulate — they did not even know 
 it was capable of interpretation. She, too, would 
 have to forget that to her it was once fraught with 
 a great meaning ; she would forget easily once she 
 got into the groove of haggling over the price of 
 vegetables and descanting on the merits of the 
 tinker who doctored her pots and pans. It 
 escaped her that this did not define the scope and 
 function of the average housewife of her race, or 
 any race ; but when one is sore with oneself, one is 
 least likely to do justice to others. 
 
 Her eyes ached with the cloudless glare of the 
 afternoon sky. She was glad of it — the physical 
 pain seemed somewhat to lessen her heart-ache, 
 and it was a pain she could relieve more easily 
 than the other. In front of her stretched a strip 
 pf greensward carpeting the opposite side of 
 the road. Presently she rested her eyes upon it. 
 A tall man was walking across the grass, his 
 sabre clanking musically against his spurs. As 
 
10 DAUGHTERS OP SHEM. 
 
 he passed, he turned his face on Zillah's, casually 
 and carelessly ; he evidently did not care what 
 there was to be seen. Then his gaze tightened ; 
 it became a stare. Zillah stood unconcerned. She 
 was used to this — had been used to it since she 
 was fifteen. Most people looked at her ; some 
 went to the trouble of adjusting their pincenez 
 for a proper focus. From that she knew she was 
 beautiful ; the glances of young men make a 
 reliable mirror. 
 
 The tall man walked on, but at a slower pace. 
 Two or three times he looked round, but the wor- 
 ship of his eyes was wasted on Zillah, for she was 
 busy resting her own on the grass-patch opposite. 
 And when she found they were relieved, she 
 retired to her wicker-chair and went on with her 
 book. Business was slack as usual at this time of 
 the day, and she could look forward to a long 
 stretch of leisure. Her story was getting near to 
 the climax ; rapidly, ravenously almost, she was 
 turning the pages, fascinated by the power of its 
 genius — yes, she knew what genius was. Sud- 
 denly a cry of vexation broke from her ; a shadow 
 had fallen across the leaf and would not go away. 
 -She looked up ; the tall young officer of half-an- 
 hour ago stood in the doorway, his attitude one of 
 irresolution. Her upward glance seemed to decide 
 him ; he stepped into the shop, touching his cap 
 politely and keeping his sabre from clattering. 
 Zillah remained quietly seated. 
 
 ''What do you speak here?" he asked. And 
 just then he caught sight of the book Zillah had 
 laid open upon the counter, and continued in ex- 
 cellent German : " Ah, the language of Heine ; we 
 shall understand each other." 
 
 His voice sounded firm, yet mellow — not an 
 unkindly voice. 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. II 
 
 " What is your wish ? " asked Zillah, self-pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 The young man forgot to answer immediately ; 
 he was immersed in her eyes. He recovered him- 
 self with a little laugh. 
 
 " I am bewitched ; I suffer from an absurd fancy 
 for smoked flounders. You Jews can prepare them 
 as no other people can ; if only you would never 
 do anything worse." 
 
 Zillah's face was as that of a statue. 
 
 " How many do you require ? " she asked, non- 
 chantly as before. 
 
 " Just a couple will do for the present." 
 
 " Yeiteles, a pair of flounders for the gentle- 
 man ; wrap them up neatly," said Zillah. 
 
 The next moment she had resumed her book, 
 and was leaning back in her chair, apparently 
 oblivious of everything. 
 
 A quiet smile hovered on the officer's lips as he 
 watched Yeiteles clumsily struggling with his task ; 
 but from where he stood, he could likewise observe 
 Zillah's profile and her long lashes, even to noting 
 how they curled up at the ends. Yeiteles was 
 not so clumsy after all ; at any rate he seemed to 
 have taken a marvellously short time over his 
 parcel. 
 
 " What have I to pay ? " asked the purchaser. 
 
 " Twenty copecks, please," answered Zillah, 
 turning over-leaf. 
 
 Leisurely the young man pulled out his pocket- 
 book, and from it selected a hundred-rouble note. 
 Zillah took it up, and glanced at it. 
 
 " I can't give you change for so much," she said 
 coldly, handing it back to him. 
 
 ''Then I can't have my flounders, I suppose? 
 I have nothing less," said the other. The smile 
 was there all through. 
 
12 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 " No matter ; you can send the money round 
 afterwards." 
 
 He did not take that for his dismissal ; he stood 
 tapping the counter with his knuckles. 
 
 " Your book must be very interesting," he said 
 at last. 
 
 " Yes," returned Zillah curtly. 
 
 " So interesting that you do not observe this is an 
 historic event — a precedent to say the least." 
 
 Zillah raised her head, but not her eyes. 
 
 " You ask how ? " he continued. " Well, in this 
 way. An officer of his Majesty the Emperor 
 comes to make a purchase in a Jewish shop while 
 the mistress is present, and she allows him to get 
 served by the errand-boy, the state of whose 
 fingers is not above reproach. I consider the fact 
 distinctly original." 
 
 This time he forced her to look at him. 
 
 " When an officer of the Emperor buys something 
 in a Jewish shop," she echoed, " he buys that which 
 he pays for ; he does not buy its owner as well." 
 
 " In this case she is certainly beyond price," he 
 interrupted, banteringly. 
 
 " But I am sorry about Yeiteles," she continued, 
 eagerly. " Yeiteles, go and wash your hands and 
 give the gentleman two other flounders." 
 
 " Pray don't trouble the excellent Yeiteles," 
 smiled the young man ; " I never intended eating 
 the fish myself; surely you must have known that 
 all along. I came here — can you tell me why I 
 came here ? " 
 
 " Yes," she replied quickly, " to cast insult at my 
 people." 
 
 " Oh, that rankles," he said with a short laugh ; 
 "but I did not intend it for an insult, I assure you. 
 It was just an experiment." 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 13 
 
 Neither by word nor by gesture did she ask his 
 meaning. 
 
 " You are certainly not inquisitive," he proceeded ; 
 " but I feel sure you would like to know all the 
 same. I wanted to see if the placid unruffled ex- 
 terior you presented to me harboured any emotions. 
 You foiled me at first ; but I am glad I stayed 
 long enough to get a reward for my diplomacy. A 
 volcano beneath an iceberg is a rare phenomenon. 
 I wish you good day." 
 
 At the door he turned again ; his former smile 
 had resumed possession of his face. 
 
 " Do you know what I should suggest to you for 
 an occupation ? You might make a tour in the 
 Greek orthodox villages, and exhibit yourself as 
 the Madonna Rediviva. Your eyes alone would 
 bring you many believers." 
 
 Five minutes after he was gone Zillah happened 
 to glance at Yeiteles ; he looked troubled. 
 
 " What is the matter, Yeiteles ? " she asked. 
 
 " I don't know," stammered the boy ; " but if I 
 were you, I should have been more — more friendly to 
 the gentleman. He is the new police-commissioner." 
 
 " And what if he is ? " smiled Zillah. 
 
 " He might take away your shop license." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 " And then I should be without work, and would 
 have to go back home to starve with the others." 
 
 HI. 
 Zillah sat idle; her book lay discarded. She 
 was reading something more interesting — her own 
 thoughts, to wit ; that, after all, was her favourite 
 literature, as it is with all who live their lives in 
 solitude. The form of her thoughts was the same 
 as usual, and yet withal there was a different tone 
 and colour to them. She was trying to account to 
 
14 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM, 
 
 herself for the change, and failed. It seemed to her 
 that the far-away wonder-world to which she had all 
 these years been stretching forth her hands in im- 
 potent longing, had quite suddenly stepped close 
 and touched her on the arm. She had heard its 
 voice speak loudly at her ear — for a moment only 
 it was true — but the touch still thrilled her, the 
 utterance had not ceased reverberating. It was a 
 pleasant sensation, this sudden brightness that had 
 flitted across the midnight of her desolation. Only 
 that the mystery of it frightened her. Surely it 
 owed nothing to the young Commissioner who had 
 talked to her yesterday afternoon ? What made her 
 suppose it did ? Young men had talked to her 
 before, more conciliatingly than this rude stranger 
 had done. It would be paying him a compliment 
 to connect him, however distantly, with anything 
 that gave her pleasure. 
 
 And meanwhile her doubts redoubled. Then it 
 struck her it was the close-packed atmosphere of 
 the shop that clogged her power of analysis. Per- 
 haps if she went out into the heart of the forest, 
 among the leafy, nodding wiseacres, they would 
 whisper suggestions to her, and interpret her to her- 
 self. She did not wait to hear out her promptings ; 
 the next moment she had reached down the crook- 
 handled sunshade of faded pink from its peg — a 
 few rapid touches to her hair, and she was ready. 
 
 " Yeiteles," she called from the doorstep, " I shall 
 be back in an hour ; be attentive, and don't eat 
 too much treacle." 
 
 Quickly she stepped down the street. Outside 
 the last house but one lounged a group of girls 
 and young married women, laughing, chatting, 
 munching pears, and ill-treating innocent pieces of 
 calico with needles and thread. As Zillah ap- 
 proached their merriment grew hushed. She nod- 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 '5 
 
 ded pleasantly ; one or two responded, but no one 
 asked her where she was going or if she would 
 join them. Zillah passed on untroubled ; she had 
 noted the sudden silence that had greeted her ap- 
 pearance — nay more, she had expected it. Whose 
 was the fault? Not theirs, she admitted that. 
 Her whilom playmates had given her cordial wel- 
 come whenever she appeared in their midst ; they 
 had over-looked the chariness of her response as 
 long as they could disguise it to themselves. Then 
 gradually they became aware that Zillah was the 
 daughter of the richest man in the place, that her 
 beauty was beyond compare, that she possessed 
 knowledge of things far out of their ken ; and all 
 this entitled her to her strange aloofness. Pride, 
 they called it for short ; but to Zillah it sometimes 
 seemed a curse that rested upon her. She could 
 not otherwise account for the perverseness that 
 made her an exile in body, because her soul felt 
 an anchorite. She did not regret it — not even 
 after all these years of loneliness. If a pang stung 
 her heart it was that she had forced her sister to 
 follow her into this self-banishment. Salka had to 
 choose between her former associates and Zillah ; 
 and Salka had chosen as one would expect of her. 
 Loyal little Salka ! 
 
 The thoughts of it kept Zillah company as far 
 as the forest border. Then she remembered she 
 had come out for a special purpose, and dismissed 
 them. The wood itself had too much tangle and 
 undergrowth to make pleasant walking, but the 
 road-path into which it had been widened was good 
 thoroughfare for foot and vehicle. Zillah kept 
 well within the shadow of the trees. It was quiet 
 as the grave ; if she could not now puzzle her 
 heart clear of its doubts, they would only vanish 
 in the greater darkness of eternity. 
 
l6 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 Behind her rang out the sound of a horse's 
 hoofs. That did not trouble her ; she knew no 
 one who rode a horse, at least at that speed, and, 
 therefore she did not fear interruption. 
 
 The rider came abreast, cast a quick sidelong 
 glance at her, and pulled up with a jerk. The 
 next thing she knew was that he had dismounted 
 and was walking beside her, leading the chafing 
 animal by the bridle. 
 
 " Good day," he said pleasantly; "this is lucky — 
 I can pay my debt now." 
 
 She looked at him ; their eyes were almost on a 
 level. A flush was on her face, but it might have 
 been only the reflected tint of the pink parasol. 
 
 " But you had no value for the money ; you did< 
 not eat the fish," she said. 
 
 " That's true, but my Phylax enjoyed them tre- 
 mendously. You should have heard his bark after 
 — it sounded like a thanksgiving. By the way, do 
 you often take walks — alone ? " 
 
 "Whenever occasion offers," she answered 
 equivocally. She was thinking what, according to 
 Yeiteles, would happen if she were not "more 
 friendly to the gentleman." He could take away 
 their shop license. Not that it would make much 
 difference to them — they could live on the contents 
 of the oaken safe ; but Yeiteles would be thrown 
 out of employment and would have to starve. She 
 would sacrifice her feelings of resentment for poor 
 little Yeiteles' sake and show herself sociable to the 
 Commissioner. 
 
 The latter did not appear to feel there was cause 
 for apology. 
 
 " Yes, in these nutshell places one has no room 
 to be alone," he said, apropos of nothing ; " I have 
 been here twenty-four hours, and already I am 
 gasping for breath. So I came out for a canter." 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 17 
 
 ' " The road further on is very good," she could 
 
 not, despite her resolution, forbear to remark. 
 
 " Ah, you don't get rid of me so quickly," he 
 laughed ; " the road further on will improve by 
 waiting. I can make its acquaintance later, seeing 
 I may have to stay here some time." 
 
 " Unless in the meantime you die from want of 
 breath," she jested. 
 
 " It's not so serious as all that," he replied ; *' I 
 only referred to the moral atmosphere, of course. 
 Otherwise small towns have their advantages. For 
 instance, one cannot waste any money in them — 
 except on flounders." 
 
 She ignored his jest. " Not one's money, but 
 one's time," she said gravely. What she really 
 wanted to say was : " One's youth." 
 
 " Time, time," he exclaimed with a flippant wave 
 of his hand ; " what is time when one is in the 
 twenties ? You feel like throwing it away in 
 handfuls. One can start economising it when one 
 gets old and the store scanty." 
 
 She made no answer. Should she tell him she 
 was jealous of every day, every hour that sped on 
 and left her where she was ? 
 
 " Why do you look sad ? You are not very 
 old ?" he began again, half playfully, half in earnest. 
 
 " Not very, and even if I were it would make no 
 difference to me," she prevaricated. 
 , " Still you do look sad," he persisted, profiting 
 by the opportunity to obtain a good critical look at 
 her ; " I noticed it yesterday. Do you know, when 
 I left you, I felt sure you were no stranger to me ; 
 I seemed to have known you for years." 
 
 " I don't understand," she said. 
 
 " I did not understand myself at the time ; the 
 explanation came afterwards. It was because I 
 had met so many of your sisters — your national 
 
1 8 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 sisters, I mean. I have met them in the capitals 
 of the world — in St. Petersburg, in Berlin, in Paris. 
 They were all beautiful, and they were all sad, 
 despite their diamonds and coronets. You reminded 
 me of them. And why not ? Do they not inherit 
 their beauty and sadness from the same stock as 
 you — from the women who sat wailing by the 
 waters of Babylon ? " 
 
 " I am like them, you say ? " she. reiterated. 
 *' Yes, except that you surpass them in both 
 things. I wonder how you would look in diamonds." 
 '• It's very kind of you to express curiosity about 
 anything that concerns me." she said lightly ; " it's 
 more than I would do myself." Somehow she felt 
 she had let him come within an inch of trespassing 
 on forbidden ground. 
 
 They walked on in silence. Zillah's heart 
 throbbed. Again the strange feeling of before had 
 come over her — the vague exultation at having 
 approached near the nameless goal of her desire. 
 It must have arisen from the mention of the beauti- 
 ful women in coronets. And that was due to the 
 man at her side ; he had seen them as close as he 
 saw her now. So it was he, after all, who had 
 brought the wonder-world into her horizon. But 
 its wonders were no longer shadows ; they had be- 
 come real. They gathered themselves into pomps 
 and pageants that trailed by her in splendour 
 and magnificence ; she could almost feel them 
 catching and whirling her off her feet. So she had 
 not come in vain to the forest-oracles ; they had 
 given her the knowledge for which she craved. And 
 .somehow she did not resent that knowledge being 
 such as it was. 
 
 With a little gasp she stopped. " I have walked 
 too far — I must turn back," she said. 
 " So must I," he echoed, quickly. 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 19 
 
 " No, please " ; she lifted her eyes as she spoke — 
 she knew where her eloquence lay. " Take your 
 canter ; I should hate to think I deprived you of it." 
 
 " As you wish," he said, disappointedly. " By the 
 way, though — I haven't settled my account after 
 all." 
 
 For a moment she was silent ; an answer was 
 struggling to her lips, but to give it utterance 
 would be playing with fire. And yet it was 
 pleasant to play with fire when one felt cold in soul 
 or body. And, therefore, she became reckless. 
 
 " I never transact business outside the shop," was 
 what she said. 
 
 She was half-way out of sight before he caught 
 the full drift of her words ; then a smile spread 
 over his face and he stood nodding his head till she 
 had disappeared. 
 
 Yes, she was right — the road further on was 
 very good riding. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Salka was watching her sister in the twilight. Her 
 patient was sleeping soundly upstairs, and that was 
 Salka's only opportunity for escaping from the sick- 
 room. When she was not watching her mother she 
 was watching her sister, and from long observation 
 she had learnt to construe rightly the external in- 
 dications of her every mood. But the expression 
 Zillah had been wearing all day could not be cata- 
 logued under any particular heading. So Salka 
 could only conjecture. 
 
 " You seem to be expecting someone," she blurted 
 out at last ; " you have been looking like that ever 
 since you came back from your walk yesterday." 
 
 " Whom should I expect ? " asked Zillah, gazing 
 straight at her. She knew she could do so with 
 safety in the twilight. 
 
20 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 " And you have eaten nothing all day," continued 
 Salka severely. " Do you want to turn the house 
 into a hospital ? " 
 
 " No, and that's why I don't eat when my appe- 
 tite plays truant." 
 
 " So you admit that ? " said Salka, quickly ; " then 
 I believe my suspicion is correct." 
 
 " What suspicion ? " asked Zillah, sitting up 
 suddenly. 
 
 " You are, after all, eager to see this intended 
 husband of yours ; I can imagine that interfering 
 with your appetite." 
 
 Zillah did not reply ; she was recovering breath. 
 But Salka mistook her silence. 
 
 " Did I not know it ? " she went on hastily. " It 
 merely needed a little time to your getting yourself 
 reconciled to the idea. Yesterday the look in your 
 eyes was that of apprehension, to-day it is im- 
 patience." 
 
 " And to-morrow it will be neither, little spy ; 
 and you will have no chance of prying and drawing 
 wrong conclusions. Shall I tell you the truth ? 
 This intended husband of mine has not cost me a 
 single thought. I have made up my mind on him." 
 
 " Without thinking ? " 
 
 "Without thinking. I intend waiting till the 
 article arrives and put the label on it then." 
 
 '' Zillah, don't talk like that ; remember you 
 might have to spend your life in company of the 
 article — label and all." 
 
 " I might— I might not." 
 
 Zillah clasped her hands behind her head, and 
 sat back. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, Zillah, dear ? " asked 
 Salka uneasily. 
 
 " If you promise not to be frightened, I shall tell 
 you." 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 21 
 
 "Is it SO terrible?" 
 
 " That depends on the way you look at it. I 
 should like to be right out of it, Salka — right out 
 of it." 
 
 " Out of what ? " queried Salka, pretending to 
 be calm. 
 
 " Out of this crawling, tedious monotony, this 
 fathomless solitude, this death-in-life." 
 
 "Zillah!" 
 
 " Oh, I know what you mean by that ; I know 
 it's black sacrilege to talk in this way of home — 
 of paradise as it should be. But one can feel 
 discontented even in paradise ; Adam and Eve 
 did, and I was not born quite so near Heaven as 
 they were." 
 
 " Was that what your look meant .'* " 
 
 " That among other things. I won't tell you 
 what other things — I can hear your teeth chatter- 
 ing loudly enough as it is. I ought not to have 
 answered you at all. But I could not keep it back 
 —this time." 
 
 A little sob came from Salka ; then she qua- 
 vered : 
 
 " If I know so much, let me know all. Tell me, 
 little sister, what do you want to do ? " 
 
 " Go out into the world and wear coronets." 
 
 " But you can do that here ; mother has a 
 beautiful little crown, the one, you know, with the 
 seven stones that glitter red and green and blue. 
 And then there is her golden chain — thick as my 
 little finger, that winds twice round the neck and 
 still reaches down to the waist. She would let you 
 wear them if you asked her." 
 
 Gently Zillah stroked the little figure that had 
 come crouching towards her chair. 
 • " You fluttering little stupid," she murmured ; 
 " what good would that do ? What use is the 
 
22 DAUGUrEKS OF SHEM. 
 
 badge without the office. Diadems mean rule, 
 and power, and homage ; but what is there here 
 to rule except one's own rebellious heart that cries 
 out with the pain whenever it has to be bound 
 with fetters ? And then there is the danger of its 
 dying with the restraint, and that would be a bad 
 day for you all. Salka, can you imagine what it 
 is to be near a live thing with a dead heart ? " 
 
 " I cannot imagine why you should be afflicted 
 with thoughts that are so little in keeping with 
 your life," said Salka wearily. " What has brought 
 it on you "*. Some trespass you have committed ? 
 Then it must have been a grievous one, since your 
 punishment is the hardest that can fall to the lot 
 of a human creature — to battle against its destiny." 
 
 " Ah, Salka, but I am not fighting against my 
 destiny : I am fighting for it. If you are not 
 given something you desire, you must try to take 
 it. Is not the mere desire evidence that it was 
 meant to belong to you ? " 
 
 Salka shook her head. 
 
 " I don't know how to argue against you," she 
 said sadly ; " I only know you are attempting 
 what is impossible. If there wt-re some hope, I, 
 loving you as I do, would be the readiest to urge 
 you on. And now you can gauge the depth of my 
 love by my protest. Tell me — how is it to be done V* 
 
 " Yes, how is it to be done ? " repeated Zillah, 
 mechanically. 
 
 , " You see, I am right," went on Salka more 
 ' ze'alously ; " listen to me, sister. You are a 
 daughter of the race that taught the world what 
 resignation means — the secret of being strong 
 through weakness and proud through humility. 
 , Zillah, that secret is part of our heritage — why 
 should you lack it ? Look for it in yourself, and 
 you will find it." 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 33 
 
 " And when I have found it ? " 
 
 " You will marry the man father has chosen for 
 you ; it is him you will make your vassal. He 
 will put a queen's crown on your head and worship 
 you." 
 
 " And will he expect me to do nothing in return?" 
 
 " Nothing — except to make him happy." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose he would expect that," said Zil- 
 lah reflectively ; " he would almost be able to claim 
 it as a right. But the exchange is not fair ; his 
 task would be easier than mine." 
 
 " How can you tell } " asked Salka eagerly. 
 " Time will drive your strange fancies out of your 
 head ; you will begin to take pride in your house- 
 hold, in your husband's affairs, and when the little 
 ones arrive " 
 
 " I hear voices, but the rest is darkness," said 
 some one from the door. 
 
 Salka started up with a little scream, but Zillah 
 kept her seat. Nay, her tone was quiet and com- 
 mon-place, as she said : 
 
 ** Make a light, Salka ; that rascal of a Yeiteles 
 is late, as usual, on his errands. I suppose he has 
 looked in at his mother's." 
 
 While she spoke, Salka had lit the two gas-jets 
 of which the shop boasted. There on the doorstep, 
 smiling and blinking with the sudden glare, stood 
 the Commissioner. 
 
 " I am something of an apparition, evidently, but 
 that is the fault of the surroundings," he said 
 genially, showing his white teeth. " I want to settle 
 that debt of mine badly — it has been giving me 
 pangs of conscience. Permit me." 
 
 He held the coin out to Zillah, who took it 
 silently. 
 
 " I should have called before, but I couldn't," 
 he went on. " A political infidel, for whose society 
 
24 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 the police felt very anxious, wriggled himself across 
 the frontier, and I had to take a trip into Prussia 
 to escort him back." 
 
 Salka stood rigid at the counter, staring large- 
 eyed at the intruder. Zillah saw the stare. 
 
 " I forgot to tell you, Salka," she explained 
 hurriedly ; " this gentleman gave us the honour of 
 his patronage the other day, and had no change at 
 the time." 
 
 The young man had followed her glance. 
 
 " Your sister, I suppose ? " he said. 
 
 Zillah nodded and flushed with embarrassment ; 
 was he going to let slip anything about their chance 
 meeting in the forest the day before ? She would 
 prefer very much that Salka should hear of it — if 
 she heard at all — from her own lips, and without 
 witnesses. But the Commissioner had not in vain 
 learnt logic at college ; from Zillah's reticence about 
 his first appearance, he deduced she had not 
 mentioned the second. In short she had made a 
 secret of it, and the fact pleased him mightily. 
 And so his next words re-assured her. 
 
 " What a dreary little place this is," he said, ad- 
 dressing himself to Zillah. " I can't absolutely find 
 anybody to talk to, so out of sheer desperation I 
 took a spin on my nag yesterday, thinking my 
 good luck lay outside it. I was right. I got some 
 fine views ; I also met one or two interesting 
 people. It was very enjoyable." 
 
 " How could it be otherwise — out in the sun- 
 shine } " said Zillah. It was quite safe to say that. 
 '* It did not depend on the sunshine," he replied, 
 his eyes fastened on hers. " It was the mood. 
 Just then I felt I could have passed a night in a 
 Carpathian snowdrift and thought I was sleeping 
 on eiderdown. Pity these moods come so rarely, 
 and then only by accident." 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 25 
 
 Zillah did not avoid his gaze ; it did her good — 
 it made her heart glow. And the covert meaning 
 of his words ! She suddenly realised, as he already 
 had done, that there was a secret between her and 
 this man, and the thought did not make her quail ; 
 but it kept her silent. 
 
 " Does — does the gentleman want to buy any- 
 thing to-night } " faltered Salka. Her bewilder- 
 ment was making havoc of her comprehension. 
 This man, this stranger — this Gentile, was con- 
 versing with her sister familiarly like an old 
 acquaintance. And her sister betrayed no astonish- 
 ment, no resentment at the fact. 
 
 " That is a pretty broad hint," he said, turning to 
 her good-humouredly, " and it comes just in time. 
 The passenger train from Riga arrives in ten 
 minutes, and I must be at the station to examine 
 the passports. By the way" — he faced Zillah — 
 " you implied you were fond of the sunshine. If 
 you will take the advice of an experienced man, 
 you will find that there is no better way of enjoy- 
 ing it than by taking a walk in some shady place — 
 a forest-road by preference — between the hours of 
 two and three in the afternoon. Good evening, 
 ladies." 
 
 He walked out and left silence behind him. 
 
 Salka spoke first. " What does he mean, Zillah } " 
 she asked, her face and voice full of puzzled 
 anxiety. 
 
 " How should I know?" replied Zillah pettishly. 
 " Any one would think from your question that I 
 had a most intimate acquaintance with his way 
 and manner of speaking." 
 
 " But you are so much cleverer than I — that's 
 why 1 asked." 
 
 " Well, then, I take it he was simply laughing at 
 us ; he was telling us something every child knows, 
 
26 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 and then intended us to be impressed by his 
 abstruse wisdom." 
 
 " You are right, Zillah ; you arc always right," 
 said Salka, with a deep breath, as though her mind 
 were disburdened of some great uneasiness. " He 
 was merely laughing at us ; he did it before, when 
 he was talking about his moods. Let him — you 
 don't care, Zillah, do you?" 
 
 " Not in the least," and Zillah shrugged her 
 shoulders for emphasis ; " let him scoff. He thinks 
 we are lawful spoil for ridicule. Has the world 
 not tried to scoff us out of existence these many 
 centuries ? Another jeer or two will do us no 
 harm." 
 
 Then Salka went upstairs to attend her patient, 
 and Zillah turned the gas low and pulled her chair 
 to the door, where she sat looking into and listen- 
 ing to the star-lit night. But really she was think- 
 ing of the Commissioner and his theory on the 
 sunshine, and wondered since when she had learnt 
 to lie to her sister so lightheartedly. 
 
 Yeiteles was late that evening. He had not 
 been to see his mother — he had been playing 
 soldiers with the other boys. His guilty conscience 
 made him expect much scolding and little supper. 
 But Zillah only said : 
 
 " Close up the shop, and then there is a piece 
 of cold fowl for you. You will find it in the forest 
 road — I mean in the pantry." 
 
 V. 
 
 The Commissioner was strolling up and down the 
 alley of trees which formed the vestibule of the 
 forest. This was the third afternoon he did so. 
 The sun was hot overhead, but he did not seem to 
 mind that. Occasionally he walked right to the 
 top of the approach, whence he could peer down 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. ' 27 
 
 the row of houses, and stood watching for five 
 minutes at a stretch. Then he shook his head, and 
 resumed his ambulatory activity. People passed 
 him, made a low reverence, and went on hastily ; it 
 was not politic to show curiosity in a Com- 
 missioner's movements, especially when he was 
 looking serious and pre-occupied. But the birds 
 up in the branches were not afraid of him ; they 
 kept on hoppingand twittering quite unconcernedly, 
 just to show the human race what a good thing it 
 was to be a bird — sometimes. But it was just as 
 well for them that the Commissioner did not hear 
 enough of them to disturb him, otherwise they 
 might have made acquaintance with the revolver 
 which he kept in his pocket, and which he knew 
 how to handle. He was listening to a voice much 
 more musical than theirs ; it was less than a week 
 since he had first heard that voice, and already it 
 seemed to him that by comparison with it all other 
 melodies were jangled discords. 
 
 And therefore he had done sentry duty here for 
 three days in succession, in order that he might 
 listen to it again. She had not come — his patient 
 waiting had been in vain. But not all in vain. 
 The long solitary ambushes had done their work 
 effectually — they had been to him a trap and a 
 snare from which he could no longer struggle loose. 
 How they had gripped him and entangled him, 
 these meshes of memory and longing ! Several 
 times he had attempted to rend them, and %\vq 
 himself liberty, till he saw the hopelessness of the 
 effort : was he not his own captor as well as prisoner? 
 
 And that being so, he started again wondering 
 why she did not come, until his heart was one 
 agonising query. He might have gone to the shop 
 to ask her, but that would be humiliating ; he 
 would not risk his pride so far — no, were she a 
 
 ^X 
 
 /> 
 
28 ' DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 hundred times more beautiful. Had she not under- 
 stood his hint, she who had shown herself adept in 
 letting her meaning peep skilfully from under the 
 mask of words ? And then a sudden thought 
 made him bite his lip : had it all been only a trick 
 of practised coquetry ? If it was, what would he 
 do to her — what could he do to her? Harass her 
 and her people with petty indignities and an- 
 noyances, such as it was in his power to inflict ? 
 He laughed at the notion ; if he had been made 
 ridiculous in her eyes, he might at least preserve his 
 self-respect in his own. Better not think of it at 
 all — better think of the great luminous Madonna- 
 eyes, from which truth had looked at him if ever it 
 had faced him out of human countenance. And 
 was he not right? His heart leapt exultantly, for 
 round the bend of the road a pink parasol came 
 floating towards him, shading a tall willowy figure 
 — one would think it not so much a shade as an 
 aureole. Quickly he strode towards her ; her hand 
 lay in his — she knew not how. 
 
 " We are fated to meet," she said, smiling tre- 
 mulously. 
 
 " Why will you dissemble ? " he asked, almost 
 roughly ; " you know this is a fate of our^of my 
 making. Why did you not come yesterday, and 
 before 1 " 
 
 " You forget my time is not my own ; there was 
 a great deal of business — who was to attend 
 to it ? " 
 
 Her lashes were on her cheek ; so she could best 
 tell her falsehood. Could she disclose to him why 
 she had not come before ? Could she avow the 
 soul-distracting struggle she had lived through in 
 those days? In the sunshine and in the darkness, 
 in her waking hours and in her slumber, she had 
 wrestled with herself as with a deadly enemy. 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 29 
 
 And now it was ended. Should she count it 
 victory or disaster? It seemed almost ungrateful 
 to ask, because whichever it was, it was fraught 
 with delight ineffable. What mattered it whether 
 it was the gladness of triumph or the sweetness of 
 surrender .-^ And so she had ceased questioning, 
 and had gone forth with the spirit of prophecy 
 upon her, for she knew she would find him here. 
 
 He seemed to read as much in her face, for 
 he said : 
 
 " You had faith in me ; I feel honoured — I thank 
 you. But it was just as well you did not strain 
 your belief to its utmost. I should have come 
 again to-morrow, and the following day, and per- 
 haps yet once again ; but after '* 
 
 " After, you would have mounted your horse and 
 have taken a spin cross-country. That is all." 
 
 " It might be all ; I put myself the question a 
 little before you came, and dared not answer it. 
 And now," his eyes flashed, " and now it requires 
 no answering — not, at least, for the present. It's 
 a fool that haggles with the golden present about 
 the future.'* 
 
 " A fool," she echoed ; but it was not so much 
 in corroboration as in misgiving. She could not 
 afford to ignore the future — not for very long ; it 
 might turn out to have been bought very dear with 
 the gold of the present 
 
 " Come out of this glare," he said, buoyantly ; 
 " I can feel the freckle microbes whisking about 
 thick as hail ; they make short work of peach- 
 bloom — come." 
 
 She followed him unresistingly, with a half 
 smile at his compliment ; and as the trees closed 
 round them, closer and yet closer, a sullen anger 
 came into her heart at her own folly for having 
 thrust off from her this happiness for three long 
 
30 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 days — a prodigal, useless sacrifice. Once or twice 
 she stumbled amid the tangle of the creepers, but 
 she refused the arm he proffered her. No, not 
 touch him — that would be unwise. It would re- 
 mind her too clearly whence she derived her joy, 
 and that it was iniquitous. Afterwards, perhaps — 
 when she had entirely forgotten to think, and 
 could only feel. 
 
 " You have told me nothing of yourself, of your 
 people," he said, as soon as they had come to a 
 little clearing. 
 
 " Because there is nothing to tell. My mother 
 has been bedridden for years ; my father is a good 
 deal from home ; my sister you know." 
 
 " A remarkable family history," he laughed ; 
 " but no doubt the historian will make up for its 
 brevity by discussing herself in more detail." 
 
 " I never talk of myself." 
 
 " I see," he bantered, " from an overw^helming 
 sense of modesty ; you could say nothing about 
 yourself that would not redound to your credit. 
 Then nothing remains for me but to discover 
 these excellencies for myself I shall be very 
 searching, I warn you." 
 
 " The search will take you a long time." 
 
 " The longer the better." He remembered some- 
 thing, and his face clouded. " And yet," he went 
 on slowly, " I may have to break it off suddenly. 
 My stay here is precarious. Any moment — what 
 a fool I am ; I speak of having to leave you, and 
 here I go wasting precious time in idle appre- 
 hension. Quick, what shall we talk about ? " 
 
 " Tell me about the beautiful women you have 
 seen," she answ^ered quickly. 
 
 " Did I say I had seen beautiful women ? It 
 must have been an optical illusion, or at least a 
 grave error of judgment. I apologise to you." 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 31 
 
 " Don't jest — I am serious." 
 
 "Then I hasten to be serious as well," he said, 
 with a lingering glance at her ; she felt it though 
 she did not see it. " I shall tell you about one of 
 them in particular ; I forget where I saw her — in 
 some big city. She had come there goodness 
 knows from what God-forgotten solitude. A week 
 after her arrival she was famous. She passed from 
 palace to palace with a retinue of slaves. They 
 had left their studies, their easels, their barracks, 
 their counting-houses to follow her wherever she 
 went, for to look at she was like the morning star. 
 But more than all, her husband loved her as his 
 very life, and earth to her was heaven." 
 
 " And what became of her ? " whispered Zillah. 
 
 "You think there ought to be a climax to all 
 this ? But there is not. She just came into my 
 mind because you asked me." 
 
 '• Was she, too, of the sad-faced ones ? " 
 
 "Yes, she looked sad, but only with excess of 
 her happiness ; she had so much, and others so 
 little. Or, perhaps, springing from a race that 
 believes in the evil eye, she was afraid lest her joy 
 should have a downfall if she paraded it, and 
 therefore she feigned the sadness she did not feel." 
 
 " Are you sure it was feigned ? " asked Zillah, 
 staring before her. " Perhaps she had brought to 
 the palaces only half a heart ; the other half she 
 might have left behind in the solitude whence 
 she came." 
 
 " At first it might have been real," he replied, 
 after a little thought ; " but when one has once 
 survived this cleavage of the heart, it grows again 
 rapidly until there is not even a scar to show 
 where it has been sundered." 
 
 Zillah roused herself — she was getting afraid, 
 sorely afraid ; his words seemed coming home to 
 
32 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 her so very closely, as though they were the answer 
 to her inmost questionings. She must not listen 
 to such answers, not when they come from any one 
 save herself. 
 
 " Why do we talk so solemnly ? " she said, with 
 a little laugh. " Doesn't it feel like desecrating all 
 this gladness and glory around us ? " 
 
 "You distract me," he exclaimed, in mock 
 despair. " Just before you complained of my 
 jesting, and now you are displeased at my serious- 
 ness. I shall be silent altogether." 
 
 But Zillah felt that the silence would be more 
 perilous than talk of any kind. And so she got 
 him into swing again on indifferent topics. But 
 even with such the time can slip away very quickly, 
 and when they had made their way back to the 
 avenue of trees Zillah realised with a start that 
 the vanguard shadows of the dusk were upon 
 them. 
 
 " When are you coming again ? '* he asked, 
 holding her back almost by force. 
 
 " To-morrow, or the day after — I can't tell," 
 she murmured, struggling to get her hand loose. 
 
 " Listen. My orderly will come to the shop 
 every morning to make a purchase ; you can give 
 him the message. But it must be soon — do you 
 hear ? — soon ! " 
 
 He released her and kissed his fingers, still warm 
 with contact of hers. She did not see the 
 gesture, because she was speeding on in front. 
 She was running away from the fleet-footed fear 
 that had tracked her home the last time she left 
 him. 
 
 Five minutes after, she stood again in the shop. 
 
 " Miss Zillah has come," shouted Yeiteles, up the 
 staircase. 
 
 And before Zillah could ask him to explain the 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 33 
 
 reason of his vociferousness, Salka had hurried 
 down full speed. 
 
 ** Where have you been ?" she queried, excitedly; 
 " we have been looking for you everywhere." 
 
 " I " began Zillah. 
 
 But Salka did not give her time for another 
 syllable. " Here is a letter from father ; he has 
 finished his business more quickly than he expected 
 and is coming home to-night. You must help me 
 prepare for them." 
 
 "Them?" asked Zillah. 
 
 " Yes ; have you forgotten ? " 
 
 The truth was, Zillah had forgotten. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The sick-room upstairs had undergone so complete 
 a transformation that it was probably troubled with 
 doubts as to its identity. It had taken to itself a 
 cheerful and festive look. The cumbrous invalid 
 couch had been pushed into a corner and concealed 
 from view by thick and many-hued hangings. In 
 the centre stood a stout mahogany table, clothed 
 in gleaming napery ; upon it, beginning with a 
 pedestal of porcelain, upreared itself the lamp of 
 massive bronze, with a silver candlestick planted 
 on each side for .adjutant. 
 
 Salka was in the kitchen seeing to the last batch 
 of her fritters in an agony of trepidation. Zillah's 
 assistance had proved worse than useless, and after 
 upsetting a basket of eggs, and almost producing 
 an irremediable catastrophe in the cheese-cakes by 
 handing the salt when Salka had asked her for 
 sugar, she had been ignominiously informed that 
 her further services could be dispensed with. She 
 had submitted to the disgrace with cordial in- 
 difference. She had felt more or less an automaton 
 from the moment she had received the news of 
 
34 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 what was in store for her that evening. And now 
 she sat in the transfigured sick-room, alone with 
 her mother — the latter solicitously bestowed in the 
 wool-stuffed armchair. Zillah kept close to the 
 chimney nook, because that was the spot into which 
 all the shadows had crowded. She was more 
 comfortable among the shadows. 
 
 " They are late, are they not? " said the invalid. 
 It was the third time she had asked the question, 
 and each time Zillah had replied patiently as she 
 did now : 
 
 "No, mother — the train does not arrive till a 
 quarter to nine ; it isn't that yet, and besides, we 
 shall hear the engine whistle as it steams into the 
 station." 
 
 " To be sure, to be sure," murmured the sufferer: 
 " I cannot see your face, child, but I know you are 
 pleased." 
 
 " Of course I am pleased, little mother ; do we 
 not always consider it a sort of festival when father 
 comes home?" 
 
 ''And this time more than all others. Why don't 
 you say what is itching on the tip of your tongue ? 
 But it was the same with me when Anshel came 
 the first time. How I remember it ! I was sitting 
 in a corner, just as you are now, only that I was 
 pretending to be busy mending socks. And the 
 youngsters — there w^ere more of them than you are 
 here — the youngsters were huddling at the other end 
 of the room, giggling and whispering mischievously ; 
 and Yekel, the eldest and wildest of them — he has 
 been quiet enough these many years under the 
 sward away in the Caucasus — aye, Yekel, I re- 
 member it was who struck up suddenly : ' Every 
 maid a sweetheart has, I alone have none,' as the 
 old song goes. And then the others burst out 
 laughing, while I sat trembling with fear and vexa- 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 35 
 
 tion, till, to make things worse, I pricked my thumb 
 with the darning-needle and ran from the room, 
 sobbing angrily. You see, my daughter, these 
 things are no secret to me ; you need not hide your 
 feelings so jealously." 
 
 Zillah writhed as though the chair on which she 
 sat had become a rack. But she held herself in 
 check and turned lovingly to her mother— this poor 
 unsuspecting mother whom happiness made so 
 garrulous. 
 
 *' Do you think I would grudge you anything } " 
 she smiled. " If I felt what you think, would I be 
 chary of letting you see it .<*" 
 
 " Ah, then you do not feel it .^ " came the query, 
 full of sadness and disappointment. 
 
 " How can 1 ? Mother, you will not blame me 
 for letting my heart go at its own speed, before I 
 know that I can safely give it the rein. Would you 
 have me whip it ? " 
 
 " You are different, Zillah — different to what I 
 was. I loved my husband before I saw him, be- 
 cause in loving him I was obeying tJie command- 
 ment which bids us honour our parents. Well, 
 what is to be shall be. What do they say ? * Joy 
 delayed is joy redoubled.' " 
 
 Zillah looked at her with the same smile ; she 
 could not divest herself of it, for it had become 
 frozen on her face. And this was only the begin- 
 ning ; from this torment there could be no escape 
 till that further agony, to which the present would 
 be as a garden of roses to a bed of brambles. And 
 over it all was to be the mask of her smile, like a 
 " Welcome " written over the entrance to a charnel- 
 house ; and before it her dear ones would stand, 
 singing songs of gladness, and not knowing that 
 they were recalling the dead remnants of her feel- 
 ings to life only in order to make them writhe afresh. 
 
36 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM, 
 
 Desperately her lips struggled to frame an an- 
 swer, but she was saved the trouble. The invalid 
 suddenly sat up — her ears, tight-strung by the peg 
 of suffering, had caught the screech of the ap- 
 proaching train. 
 
 " In ten minutes they will be here," she said 
 rapidly; "now you shall see, Zillah. Quick, set 
 the chairs straight — the lamp-shade is a little to 
 one side. If only my limbs were strong enough to 
 carry me as far as the door to give him greeting 
 the moment he enters," she sighed ; " but, please 
 God, I shall dance at your wedding, Zillah, as lightly 
 as I did at my own— the Cossack dance, your father 
 and I — and you and Salka will stand by clapping 
 your hands. How I remember -" 
 
 And then she rambled back into the distant past, 
 going over the old well-worn details which always 
 were a fresh delight to her listening children. But 
 now they came on Zillah's dazed senses as the 
 murmuring of far-off waters. If only she could 
 keep like that — hear nothing, feel nothing, know 
 nothing. No ; presently she would have to become 
 alive. What, so soon ? Could they not give her 
 a little more respite, only a very little } Down 
 below in the street were heard the footfalls of men 
 walking rapidly — aye, two men ; now they were 
 halting at the door, and the next moment Salka's 
 joyous cry of " Father ! " rang out as in triumph. 
 
 Zillah rose, her nerves firm, her gaze steady. 
 Was she a child ? Would she let this stranger 
 frighten her from her duty of going to meet her 
 father open-armed ? If she showed herself craven 
 even before she was fronting the foe, what would be 
 the issue of the conflict ? But her resolution had 
 come too late ; before she reached the door it had 
 already opened, and her father stepped in, flushed 
 and eager. 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 37 
 
 " Now this is what I call honouring a guest," he 
 cried, the glow on his face deepening with pleasure 
 as he noted the inviting appearance of the cham- 
 ber ; " I accept the compliment, even though I have 
 a suspicion it isn't all meant for me. Esther, you 
 are looking twenty years younger, and are getting 
 strong as a lion, Salka tells me." 
 
 Then he turned to Zillah. 
 
 " You have been taking care of mother ? " he 
 whispered, kissing her; "that is right, and for 
 reward I have brought some one to take care of 
 you." 
 
 And then Zillah noted with a fugitive glance the 
 figure still and motionless in the doorway. 
 
 Anshel looked round. 
 
 " Where are you, Enoch ? " he exclaimed ; " we 
 are coming to a fine state of things when men like 
 you are afraid to show their faces." 
 
 And the next thing Zillah knew was that her 
 father had led the stranger to her side, holding him 
 by the hand, and was saying : 
 
 " Zillah, this is Enoch Gontaller. When you 
 were yet in your cradle his father's name had 
 already travelled to the four corners of the world. 
 It is a name to be proud of, and the son is worthy 
 of the father ; need I say more ? Come, Enoch, 
 this is my wife — and now you know us all. You 
 have had a silent welcome, but that is only because 
 it comes so deep from the heart." 
 
 Zillah turned pale to the lips. So this was the 
 high honour at which her father had hinted — the 
 alliance with the house of the great Rabbi-Tal- 
 mudist. Ah, that made everything more difficult. 
 She wanted to go on thinking how much more 
 difficult, but her father's last words, that had almost 
 sounded like a reproach, recalled her. 
 
 " You have had a wearisome journey," she said 
 
38 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 to the guest, her eyes downcast ; " pray be seated, 
 and give us your indulgence for a few minutes. 
 We shall soon have our best ready for you." 
 
 He did not seem to hear her ; he remained 
 standing, his melancholy eyes, luminous in their 
 blackness, riveted upon her. Anshel shot a quick 
 side-glance at him ; it was a good sign, this silence 
 of his — it spoke many things. And so it was with 
 a smile of pleasure that he took up the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 " You did not expect us quite so early, I suppose? 
 You almost did right there. For if we are here 
 now, it is something of a miracle. No, there was 
 no danger," he interrupted himself in answer to his 
 wife's anxious look of inquiry, " but — well, here is 
 the whole thing as it happened. I was coming 
 from Berditcheff, where I had stayed several days, 
 and where Enoch joined me. To save delay, we 
 travelled by the next train that was available, and 
 1 had no time to get my passport countersigned by 
 the police. But that did not trouble me, because 
 old Tomalov, the police Commissioner here, and I 
 — well, it would not be the first time we had settled 
 such a matter by accommodation. And it was not 
 till the train stopped at Bogilno, three stations 
 from here, that I heard he was dead, and that his 
 successor was already appointed. You can imagine 
 I did not bless the tidings. I did what I could. 
 First I counted out a hundred roubles for an emer- 
 gency ; and secondly, I look out the Book of 
 Psalms, and made good use of it till we arrived 
 here. Outside the gendarmerie stood the new 
 Commissioner. I don't know whether you have 
 seen him, Zillah — he is tall, with an iron look on 
 his face. My heart sank ; already I saw myself in 
 the train back on my way to Berditcheff to get my 
 passport signed. I handed it to him, such as it 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 39 
 
 was ; he glanced at it, and his brow wrinkled. 
 Suddenly it became smooth again. ' Is your name 
 Markovitz ? ' he asked. I told him it was. * Do 
 you keep a cheese and herring store ? ' he went on. 
 * I do, your honour,' I replied in astonishment — how 
 did he know ? ' Your passport is quite in order, 
 you may go,' he said pleasantly. Is it not mira- 
 culous ? " And Anshel expanded his broad chest 
 to recoup himself for the breath he had consumed 
 in the narrative. 
 
 "It is indeed strange," replied Zillah, to whom 
 the last query had been addressed ; " and yet — con- 
 sidering you were repeating psalms all the time. . ." 
 
 Anshel tapped his forehead and looked at 
 Enoch. 
 
 " And so a woman has shamed us men in under- 
 standing," he said almost solemnly. 
 
 Enoch cleared his throat of some imaginary ob- 
 stacle before he answered ; his voice was as dreamy 
 as his eyes. " Perhaps you take that for a still 
 greater miracle," he said ; " to me it is only as it 
 should be. When God has made a thing that is 
 perfect in its outward semblance, why should He 
 stop half-way and not complete it inwardly ? And 
 because it is not always His will to achieve His 
 work, is that any reason to wonder when He does?" 
 
 A short silence followed his words, arid then 
 Anshel turned smilingly to his daughter. 
 
 " What do you say to that ? " he asked. 
 
 " That the words are ill-applied," she said with a 
 flush, perhaps of modesty, but possibly of anger. 
 " Our guest puts too high an estimate on me. I 
 am only a poor thing at best, full of defects and 
 blemishes ; if he says I am one of those on whom 
 God has laid the seal of perfection, he utters blas- 
 phemy." 
 
 Enoch's pale face became still paler, but his eyes 
 
40 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 took a new splendour to themselves as he saw the 
 flush creep over her. Anshel sat as in a dream. 
 The greatest mystery in his life was how it came 
 that such a creature should call him father ; and 
 now he thought it time to give up hope of ever 
 solving it. 
 
 "You see, Enoch, one never knows when one 
 is going to receive a stone for one's bread," he 
 laughed. 
 
 " And yet there are cases where one must offer 
 the bread, although one knows one is going to get 
 a hailstorm of stones in return," said Enoch quietly. 
 
 " And talking of bread, Zillah, will you see that 
 Salka brings up what there is to eat } " broke in 
 the invalid. The mother's eye had suddenly seen 
 a look of unutterable pain flit over her child's face. 
 Yes, embarrassment was sometimes a physical 
 agony. 
 
 Zillah obeyed, and a minute or two after, Salka 
 and Yeiteles, the helpful, brought up the steaming 
 dishes, and the homely clatter of plates frightened 
 the spirit of restraint out of the room. Anshel's 
 home-spun joviality and Salka's merry prattle acted 
 as a barricade against its return. If Enoch was a 
 little monosyllabic, and Zillah entirely silent, it was 
 only natural under the circumstances. It was also 
 natural that she should withdraw before the others 
 did, pleading a headache. But had anyone seen 
 her throw herself on her bed in a tempest of tears 
 and with disconsolate wringing of hands, he might 
 have found more reasonable cause for comment. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " You ask why a lender who has taken security 
 from the borrower in a piece of tillage, vary- 
 ing in quality, may only claim in repayment 
 of his loan that portion of the land which is the 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 41 
 
 less productive ?" Enoch was saying to Anshel on 
 the second evening of his visit, a good while after 
 supper had been disposed of " The reason is this. 
 Suppose a man of affluent means should desire for 
 its fertiHty a piece of the field belonging to a neigh- 
 bour who happens to be in monetary straits. Well, 
 this man might say to himself: *I shall inveigle 
 my neighbour into taking a loan to be repaid on a 
 certain day, and take his estate for a pledge. And 
 then, by some chicanery or under-hand act, I shall 
 make him fail in the payment, so that his lands 
 might become forfeited and I might take my choice 
 of them.' But then comes this law of our Rabbins 
 which says he may recoup himself only with the 
 inferior portion of it. And in this way there is a 
 curb laid on the avarice of the ungodly." 
 
 Anshel listened to him ecstatically : this scholar, 
 this sage, this oracle, who seemed able to expound 
 all the secrets of heaven and earth, was to be his 
 son-in-law. Salka was also sitting at the table. 
 She was not so much listening to Enoch's words as 
 looking at his face, with its eloquent change of ex- 
 pression and the wonderful glow of his eyes. She 
 marvelled why she was watching it so hard. Zillah 
 was seated near the window, which seemed of late 
 to have a peculiar fascination for her. She was 
 reading the new instalment of Spielhagen which 
 had arrived that morning. She neither listened nor 
 looked. Had she paid any attention at all, she 
 could not have failed to notice that very often the 
 sound of Enoch's voice travelled to her in a straight 
 line, although he was sitting sideways. Even if 
 she had, she would never have associated the fact 
 with a possible intention of Enoch that all this 
 store of learning was to be laid as a tribute at her 
 feet. But perhaps most women would connect 
 love-making more closely with the rattle of spurs 
 
42 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 and the clank of sabres than with an exhibition of 
 the most brilliant antics of casuistry. 
 
 "And now, Enoch," said Anshel, "only one 
 question m'ore; the evening is late — see, mother 
 has fallen asleep already. But I would just have 
 you explain the strange saying of Rabbi Chaninah 
 in the Treatise Baba Kama ; that those who keep 
 our holy precepts when they are enjoined to do so 
 can hope for greater reward than those who keep 
 them when there is no such obligation upon them. 
 It seems to me there is more merit in the latter 
 case." 
 
 For a moment or two Enoch wrinkled his fore- 
 head in thought, and then smiled as the solution 
 of the problem flashed upon him. 
 
 " Is not the first instinct of man's nature that of 
 freedom } " he answered. " Does not every reason- 
 ing and unreasoning thing rebel against alien con- 
 trol ? And so, when we are under a command that 
 enjoins a certain behest on us, there is, as it were, 
 a yoke and a shackle laid upon the very mainspring 
 of our life, for our will and inclination may perhaps 
 be carrying us to the very opposite. Thus the 
 obeying of the injunction entails a certain amount 
 of self-mastery which makes it more laudable than 
 when it is the result of a spontaneous desire." 
 
 Zillah's ear caught the concluding sentence 
 without knowing of what premises it was the de- 
 duction. There seemed to be in it something that 
 bore a special significance ; and with that an 
 involuntary resentment came over her. Yes, it 
 might be a grand and laudable thing to make a 
 martyr of oneself, but she had lost the taste for it. 
 She had done enough of self-mastering in her 
 brief life to give herself for once the luxury of 
 abandonment. 
 
 The two men and Salka had risen to their feet. 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 43 
 
 " No doubt you think me an exactin^^ host/' 
 jested Anshel ; " 1 make you pay for my hospitality 
 with gems of wisdom. Fortunately you are so 
 well provided with the capital that there is no fear 
 of your having to turn bankrupt/' 
 
 " You are welcome to it," said Enoch ; " it is a 
 pleasure to be prodigal in wealth of this sort if one 
 can only find a receiver for it. I know it isn't 
 current coin everywhere." 
 
 Salka had a tolerable notion of the particular 
 bearing of his complaint. She said nothing, but 
 she made a resolution that it should reach its 
 address. 
 
 " Zillah, our guest is about to retire," remarked 
 Anshel. 
 
 The remark was necessary, for Enoch had 
 stepped close to her, without that she lifted her 
 head. 
 
 "Good night," she murmured in confusion. 
 Perhaps it had just struck her that whatever else 
 she lacked there was no reason why she should 
 lack in ordinary courtesy. 
 
 " Good night," he said simply : and yet it was 
 as though he had wanted to say something more. 
 But the two words had done that without his 
 knowing it. 
 
 " It's a queer thing with these women," said 
 Anshel, lighting Enoch to his attic : " how skil- 
 fully they will ignore a thing of which every one 
 knows they are aware. And yet this reserve — ^ 
 does it not give zest and flavour to them ? " 
 
 *' It does, indeed," replied Enoch, but only in a 
 half-hearted sort of way. 
 
 Salka was helping to bed her mother, who had 
 awakened from her doze. 
 
 " Are you comfortable, little mother } " she asked. 
 
 " Quite, thank you." 
 
44 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 " And you will not want anything else just now ?" 
 
 " Nothing — except to sleep. You are very good, 
 child." 
 
 " Then Zillah may come down with me to the 
 kitchen and help_ me put things in order there. 
 Will you, Zillah ? " 
 
 " Of course — did I ever refuse ? " 
 
 Silently the two sisters made their way down- 
 stairs. Zillah gave a little cry of surprise. 
 
 " Why, everything is spick and span ! What else 
 IS there to do ? " 
 
 Salka smiled at the success of her ruse, but 
 immediately became grave again. 
 
 " We can't talk upstairs, we shall disturb mother." 
 
 " Is there anything you have to tell me ? " 
 
 " So many things that I shall end by saying 
 nothing, for I don't know where to begin. How- 
 ever, what happened to you yesterday ? " 
 
 A great fear struck into Zillah's heart. Had they 
 been seen — overheard ? 
 
 " When ? " she quavered. 
 
 " In the evening." 
 
 " I told you I had a headache ; I don't think that 
 requires much discussion," said Zillah, with a breath 
 of relief. 
 
 " Listen, Zillah," said Salka. " Last night, as I 
 came to our room, I stooped over you to kiss you 
 in your sleep ; but on your mouth there was such 
 a strange, cruel look that I refrained. I was afraid 
 you might bite me." 
 
 " In my sleep } " laughed Zillah, but mirthlessly. 
 
 " How did that look come there ? It was so 
 different to the one you brought home in the 
 afternoon. It seemed to me it spoke of some 
 terrible hatred — against us, perhaps, Zillah : it made 
 me cry." 
 
 " Then it served you right for being a little goose. 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM, 45 
 
 Are you sure you have never seen me look like 
 that when I am awake ? " 
 
 " No, I have always seen you beautiful." 
 
 " If I appeared cruel, Salka, have I not cause for 
 it ? " broke out Zillah passionately. " Am I not 
 cruelly dealt with ? And though I bear my mask 
 of meekness by day, can I help it that my thoughts 
 are written on my face at night ? But you need 
 not be afraid of me, waking or sleeping. When I 
 wake, my heart is full of love for you all ; and my 
 dreams will not do harm to any one, save myself. 
 Only you must not begrudge me them." 
 
 " You are talking wildly," moaned Salka ; " who 
 is dealing cruelly with you } Up till yesterday you 
 had perhaps some reason for thinking yourself 
 aggrieved, but now " 
 
 " Why only till yesterday ? " 
 
 " Because till then I was sharing your dread of 
 the stranger with whom you were to couple your 
 life. He might have turned out to be a hunchback, 
 or repulsive in face and manner — his father's fame 
 and greatness were no guarantee against that. But 
 when he is beautiful as an archangel, and " 
 
 " Is he beautiful ? " queried Zillah, coldly. 
 
 " You may well ask ; you have not vouchsafed 
 him a glance since his arrival. And therefore you 
 have not noticed how hungrily his gaze is bent on 
 you and the untold pain of his eyes, although his 
 voice rings so steady and his words show such calm 
 of self-possession. All the time you sit poring over 
 that stupid book of yours — as though you wanted 
 to read yourself dead." 
 
 "It does not work ; I have tried it." 
 
 " But it serves another purpose," went on Salka 
 hotly ; " it keeps you from noticing your mother's 
 silent reproach and your father's wonder and 
 embarrassment. And when I look at him — at 
 
46 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 Enoch, with his patient smile — the tears well into 
 my eyes." 
 
 Zillah was silent for a moment, then she said 
 suddenly : 
 
 " I suppose our parents wish him for a son-in- 
 law?" 
 
 " Suppose ? " echoed Salka, looking at her sister 
 as if she doubted her reason. 
 
 " Well then," continued Zillah calmly, "have they 
 not another daughter ? " 
 
 Salka changed colour three times in as many 
 seconds. " You might have spared me that, Zillah," 
 came from her quietly. " It sounds almost like a 
 taunt. You know that no man who has seen you 
 and me would hesitate about his choice. And he 
 has made his, I assure you." 
 
 Zillah caught her in her arms and gently forced 
 her face up. 
 
 " Do you think I should say such a thing unless 
 I meant it ? " she whispered. " Salka, if ever I 
 wished I were horrible as a toad to look upon, I 
 wish it now." 
 
 The words had broken from her in the rush of 
 her passion, but the next moment they had rolled 
 back upon her as though they knew they were the 
 false echo of her thoughts. Did she really wish it ? 
 Was it not yesterday, as she was treading the forest 
 shadows, that, in her heart, she had given thanks ta 
 God for her beauty ? Why was there any reason 
 then that she should prize it, and why had she now 
 spoken of it almost as a curse ? 
 
 "You see, Salka," she hurried on, "it could be 
 arranged. Suppose father promised for your dowry 
 one or two thousand roubles more " 
 
 With a strangled cry Salka tore herself loose 
 from her embrace ; then she laughed bitterly. 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 47 
 
 '* Do you really think two thousand roubles will 
 make me equal to you ? " 
 
 " You are a thousand, thousand times better than 
 I am ; I am not worthy to kiss your feet," came 
 like a torrent from Zillah ; " you love your parents, 
 and I feel as though I were their murderess. And, 
 therefore, in your thousand-fold goodness, I want 
 you to do me this service. Use all the wiles of 
 our w^omanhood ; I will think them out night and 
 day, and teach you them. Do everything to make 
 him love you. You will succeed I am certain. Oh, 
 promise me, Salka, promise me." 
 
 Salka shook her head. " It is beyond us both," 
 she said brokenly ; " father says from the moment 
 he saw your picture he went about like a sleep- 
 walker. And then father will never, never consent 
 that his younger daughter should marry before the 
 elder. He would rather have us both remain under 
 his roof till we were grey-headed. It is you, Zillah, 
 who must make the effort." 
 
 Zillah stood looking dazed and vacant till Salka 
 got frightened. . 
 
 " What will you do ? " she whispered, stealing an 
 arm round the other's neck. 
 
 " What can I do ? I must find out," said Zillah, 
 voicelessly ; " if you cannot do me this service I 
 ask you, Salka, you will at least do me another." 
 " Quick, tell me." 
 
 " It is a mere trifle by comparison. Just a little 
 falsehood that will hurt nobody in the world. To- 
 morrow afternoon father will be going to Nirshava, 
 and — and our guest will be thrown on our company. 
 I shall want to leave the house for a little time — 
 an hour or so — and I want you to bear me out in 
 saying that I have urgent necessity for it." 
 
 " Why, where are you going ? " asked Salka, 
 apprehensively. 
 
48 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM, 
 
 "Nowhere in particular,'* said Zillah, glancing 
 away from her ; " I only want to be alone ; quite 
 alone to take counsel with myself. The solitude 
 will do me good — as it did yesterday. I must 
 come to a decision about this ; did you not say so 
 yourself? " 
 
 "Is that all ? I wish you would give me a harder 
 task to test my love." 
 
 " I gave you one.*' 
 
 " That was not a task — it was a forlorn hope." 
 
 " Well then, wait ; I shall perhaps take you at 
 your word a little later. In the meantime there is 
 to-morrow. Don't forget." 
 
 Salka did not fall asleep for a long time ; she lay 
 staring wide-eyed into the darkness. Pictured upon 
 it, as on a sable canvas, stood Enoch's pale face 
 with its lustrous eyes. Why should it come to her 
 here in the gloom ? It was a punishment she had 
 laid up for herself: she should not have looked at 
 it so much in the light, and then it would not 
 trouble her now, and keep her from her slumber. 
 And more strangely still, like a refrain to a song of 
 her own singing, rang in her ears Zillah's words : 
 " Make him love you ! " Her tongue had flouted 
 the suggestion — but her thoughts? Aye, it was 
 child's play to speak with the lips, but the heart 
 could not be tutored so easily into speaking the 
 words it should ; and just now the language of her 
 own sounded contrary and wayward. It was urging 
 her to the task her sister had set her, although she 
 herself had dubbed it impossible. Somehow it did 
 not now seem so impossible. Oh, no ; it was not 
 because she wished it otherwise. She did not — at 
 least, she told herself so. And then she thought 
 of Zillah's request and what it meant to herself: 
 an hour of undisturbed companionship with him — 
 not in vision as now, but in living deed, with sight 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 49 
 
 and sound to convince her it was not a phantasy. 
 The thought took hold of her ; she tried to drive it 
 away — it would not go. And then she gathered it 
 to her bosom, and strained it close till she felt it 
 tingle into life, and throb with alternate pulses of 
 fear and gladness. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " You are punctual," said the Commissioner to 
 Zillah, looking at his watch ; " you told my man at 
 three ; it's three to the minute." 
 
 " I was eager to thank you for your kindness to 
 my father," said Zillah, taking no trouble to conceal 
 the breathlessness which evidenced the swiftness 
 of her walk. 
 
 " Why not look on that as a matter of course ? " 
 he asked a little disappointedly ; " I should have 
 preferred had you come with — -with a less definite 
 motive." 
 
 " How do you know that without it I should 
 have come at all ? " 
 
 " Oh, there was no guarantee whatever," he said. 
 So long as she was there, what matter if she fenced 
 and quibbled about it ? 
 
 " But it was kind of you," she iterated ; " you 
 saved him considerable inconvenience, simply 
 because " 
 
 " Because ? " 
 
 " Because you are too broad-minded to see a 
 criminal in every man who has not conformed to 
 the absurd ordinances of official tyranny." 
 
 " This is treason — rank treason," he exclaimed, 
 with a make-belief frown ; " is that the way to speak 
 of the institutions of our all-wise Government ? " 
 
 " Then you are not broad-minded ? " 
 
 " I have had a duty given me which I must fulfil 
 without questioning," he said seriously. 
 
50 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 " Then why did you neglect it in the case of my 
 father?" 
 
 He looked at her full ; then he said smilingly : 
 " Because he happened to be the father of his 
 daughter." 
 
 "If so, why do you refuse the daughter's 
 gratitude?" 
 
 " I will accept it if she makes it an incident of 
 her coming, not its main motive." 
 
 " I offer it to you ; make it what you like," she 
 said. 
 
 " That's much better," he said approvingly. " By 
 the way, before we dismiss the subject, who was 
 your father's fellow-traveller? Hardly your 
 brother— there was no resemblance. His passport 
 was invulnerable, which unfortunate fact robbed me 
 of a chance of earning some additional gratitude 
 and credit for tolerance." 
 
 Zillah's lips closed very tightly ; she was afraid 
 lest the impulse to echo his " before we dismiss the 
 subject," would be too strong for her. Why, this 
 particular department of the subject required a 
 world of words all to itself She tore a little shoot 
 from the nearest fir-bush and commenced stripping 
 it of its needles. 
 
 •' I have no brothers," she replied at last ; " I 
 thought you understood that. It's a friend of my 
 father." 
 
 " He comes from Berditcheff," remarked the 
 Commissioner, puzzled despite the clear drift of 
 her reply ; " what is he here for — on business ? " 
 
 " Yes, on business," she repeated mechanically, 
 while her tense lips drew themselves asunder into 
 the caricature of a smile. He was quick to notice it. 
 " Please put on your sad mien/' he begged ear- 
 nestly ; "that smile looks like a murdered thought." 
 
 " Why should I look sad ? " she asked jauntily, 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 51 
 
 recklessly ; " It's most amusing, I assure you. 
 That man " 
 
 She broke off abruptly. The full bearing of 
 what she was about to do came rushing in upon her 
 and frightened her into silence. She was going to 
 tell this stranger, this mushroom acquaintance, of 
 the things that concerned her life most closely ; she 
 was going to vent her ridicule upon them, or, 
 worse perhaps, exact his sympathy. But thank 
 God, — it was still not too late ; she could yet 
 retrieve herself 
 
 The Commissioner watched her lynx-like. 
 
 " That man," he prompted impatiently. 
 
 She took a step backward and gazed round her 
 desperately, like a hunted fawn. 
 
 " It is nothing of consequence, I assure you," she 
 gasped ; " and now please excuse me; I must really 
 go, this very minute." 
 
 But the Commissioner knew better. " Will you 
 be good enough to give me the particulars you 
 intended giving me concerning this man ? " he 
 said, his voice harsh and strained. Zillah remem- 
 bered her father had called him stern ; he was not 
 stern — he was cruel. And yet how his cruelty 
 became him. 
 
 " I repeat to you," she said more collectedly 
 " that it is nothing — nothing worth speaking 
 about " 
 
 " Well, then, I must bring more pressure to bear 
 on you. What is it with this man ? I ask in my 
 official capacity." 
 
 " Indeed, in that it does not concern you in the 
 least," she said eagerly ; " will you not take my 
 word for it ? " 
 
 " Then it concerns me only personally," he ob- 
 served, softening his tone. " That man, you were 
 going to say, is intended for your husband ; the pro- 
 
 E 2 
 
52 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 ject docs not please you — you were about to speak 
 of it with bitterness and ill-will. Am I right ?" 
 
 She stared at him dumb and petrified. 
 
 " Believe me," he went on gently, " I have not 
 been tracking the cunning and craftiness of crime 
 all these years without being able to unmask the 
 subterfuges of innocence when I come across them." 
 
 " You have no right to tax me with subterfuges." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I don't insist on it as an assertion — I am 
 merely venturing a suggestion. I leave you the 
 right of rebutting, of denial." 
 
 For a moment her pride upreared itself re- 
 belliously. Why should he think she owed him 
 confidences? Why should she stand before him 
 like a culprit confessing to a transgression } But 
 then again she felt this power he was wielding 
 over her was as balm to her soul ; this dominion of 
 his was a mould into which her heart fitted and 
 seemed safe against life's jutting edges. She 
 lifted her eyes to his fearlessly, and said : 
 
 " I do not deny it — I cannot." 
 
 Quickly he came close to her. " 1 felt sure I 
 had spoken for you," he said softly ; " and do you 
 know what remains for me now? To think for 
 you — think for you what you have not the courage 
 to think for yourself; to ask the questions which 
 you would go on asking without ever answering 
 them. Shall I ? " 
 
 Her nod gave him leave. 
 
 " Why have our paths crossed, Madonna ? Why 
 have we touched each other's hands — why have we 
 looked into each other's faces? Why have I 
 counted the hours, the minutes, till I should touch 
 and look — why have you sent me a message 
 defining the term and limit of my counting? Look, 
 we are standing here wrapping ourselves in the 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM, 
 
 53 
 
 solitude of each other's company, and yet fech'ng 
 as though the world were filled with our fulness. 
 What does it mean ? We that are distinct and 
 separate by all the differences which should thrust 
 two human beings asunder, we have found each 
 other with but little searching. Tell me, what does 
 it mean ? 
 
 She stood listening with clasped hands and 
 parted lips. As he stopped, she turned to him 
 and breathed : 
 
 " Go on thinking for me — go on questioning." 
 He bent close to her, till their foreheads almost 
 touched. 
 
 *' No, I have questioned enough ; it is time to 
 make answer. It means that we are to clasp each 
 other's hands for all our life, and read each other's 
 faces till we are blind in death. You and I and 
 the future, Madonna — have I not answered right ?" 
 " Yes, you have thought for me, questioned for 
 me, answered for me," said Zillah, trembling ; "you 
 have done it well — only too well. And, therefore, 
 the end must be — " 
 " Must be what ? " 
 
 "As though there never had been a beginning." 
 He almost staggered ; then he set his teeth 
 hard. 
 
 " I see," he grated out, " this has all been a deep- 
 laid plan, a device of cunning and trickery. You 
 said to yourself: 'I shall weave this Gentile's 
 heart into my toils, and then I shall let him writhe ; 
 so shall I avenge the wrongs his brothers have 
 done to my sisters.' Girl, from where did you get 
 the courage for that ?" 
 
 She looked at him steadily. 
 
 " Courage ? " she said, slowly, " I have none. 
 I am not as Jael — she of the milk-bowl and the 
 iron spike. If 1 could help my suffering race by 
 
54 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 any service of mine, I should do it gladly ; but 
 never with weapons of treachery. Where would 
 such vengeance lead to ? " 
 
 " I have wronged you — forgive me," he replied 
 humbly ; " my disappointment made me unjust ; 
 not my disappointment, my misunderstanding' 
 rather. You meant something else than your words 
 said. Speak — I shall be very patient." 
 
 He waited a minute — two — but there was no 
 sound from her. He took her hand and stroked 
 it tenderly. 
 
 " Madonna, Madonna," he whispered, " do you 
 not love me .^ " 
 
 Again there was no answer, but instead she 
 darted at him a look, half ineffable agony, half 
 passionate entreaty. He had been expecting that 
 look ; it served his purpose. 
 
 " Now we can speak," he said, his voice quiver- 
 ing with suppressed exultation. " Do you remem- 
 ber the woman of whom I told you — the one who 
 was sad because she was overburdened with happi- 
 ness } Do you know who that woman was ? Your- 
 self — yourself as I pictured you in the years to 
 come. You shall walk in the gilded palaces of 
 which I, your husband — do you hear me i* — your 
 husband, shall open for you the portals. Goddess 
 mine, do you grasp all that this means ? Ah, you 
 do not know the splendour, the grandeur of it — 
 the intoxicating gladness, the exquisite heart- 
 throbs of secure affluence, the surpassing triumph 
 of bended knee and absolute homage. But you 
 shall taste it all, I promise you. And when you 
 are tired of it, I shall make my love your undying 
 delight. Come with me." 
 
 " Whither ? " she asked dreamily. 
 
 " Whither ? Away from here. Is this the place 
 where I could ever redeem my promise ? " 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SIIEM. 55 
 
 "Then I must leave my parents," she said, 
 awaking from her trance. 
 
 " Do you expect to gain everything and make no 
 sacrifice whatever ? " 
 
 " I would make any sacrifice, but not this," 
 broke from her like a wail. "Oh, why did you 
 nut let me go before — why have you made me 
 listen to all this ? Be merciful — do not tempt me 
 too hard. I cannot leave my parents, and yet — 
 and yet, oh, I want to go with you." 
 
 The Commissioner clasped both her hands 
 tightly. 
 
 "Yes, you shall come with me. And soon. 
 Hear me You know I am here only on inter- 
 mediate service. Within the next few days I ex- 
 pect orders to go far inland to take over control of 
 a large revenue department which I have been 
 promised. By then you must be ready to follow 
 me. You must be prepared any moment. In 
 the morning I shall send you a message by my 
 man, and that same evening we must be gone. That 
 is settled." 
 
 " Not quite — not quite," she whispered fear- 
 fully;" "please do not yet take everything for 
 granted. I know if I were now to say yes, I 
 should be bound to it, not only by my heart, but 
 by my conscience also " 
 
 ''Then s;iy ye=," he interrupted eagerly. 
 
 ** But I must g've myself breathing-space, more 
 for your sake than for mine," she said, ignoring 
 his words ; " I must fortify myself to it by clear 
 thought and reasoning that shall sweep away all 
 hindrances now, and all reproach, should there be 
 any, hereafter. For I shall then be able to say to 
 myself that it v/as not your importunity, but my 
 own free will, which made my life such as it shall 
 be. Believe me, it will be better for both of us. 
 
56 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 And one other thing : till then avoid me. Let me 
 come to my decision unprompted, spontaneously. 
 The sight of you would probably be to me more 
 bewilderment than argument. Will you grant me 
 this ? " 
 
 He cast at her a quick look of suspicion ; and 
 then, as her clear eyes met his, he felt ashamed of it. 
 
 He nodded. " I will, but in return I shall ask 
 you for something too. You have not yet told me 
 what your heart says to mine." 
 
 " Has my silence not told it more clearly than 
 any words of mine could ? " she queried. 
 
 " I want your words as well. Say after me : 
 * Otto, I love you.' " 
 
 She obeyed — even when he said he wanted to 
 hear it twice. 
 
 "Do you know what my purpose was?" he 
 went on. " I wished you to say it because I know 
 the utterance will ring in your ears and admonish 
 you when your surroundings will call to you too 
 loudly. You will remember it, and you will not 
 falter. Or perhaps you count that undue in- 
 fluence?" he added, with the faintest touch of 
 jesting. 
 
 She smiled wearily. " No, because you have 
 put me on my guard against it." 
 
 "Yes, that is right," he exclaimed quickly, his 
 face suffused with joy; "guard yourself against it. 
 This will probably be the last time you will par- 
 take of the experience." 
 
 She looked puzzled. 
 
 " Because," he explained, " after that it will be 
 my office to safeguard you, to watch over you, to be 
 your armour and shield. And therefore I ask you 
 now, for this once more, to be your own protection. 
 Drink the sensation to the dregs ; you will then be 
 better able to appreciate the contrast." 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 57 
 
 " My armour and shield," she echoed softly, 
 measuring him from head to foot ; " that must feel 
 good — I shall think of it. Good-bye." She held 
 out her hand. 
 
 " Is that all } " he asked, taking it in his. 
 
 " All till " 
 
 " Till we meet again with no parting before us," 
 he said fervently ; " I ought to be satisfied with 
 that." 
 
 He had to be, for the next moment she had left 
 him and was making her way swiftly and sure- 
 footed through the tangled undergrowth ; but he 
 had caught the look with which she had turned 
 from him — it was better than a caress. 
 
 Outside in the clearing Zillah moderated her 
 pace. At this rate she would get home too soon, 
 before her blood could settle down into more 
 temperate motion, before she had gained control 
 of her voice and tongue, and could force them to 
 the requisite restraint of everyday speech. Other- 
 wise her feelings would become as a flood on which 
 her secret would be borne to the understanding of 
 anyone who chose to listen. 
 
 Not yet ; her secret would see light soon enough. 
 
 The autumn day was crimsoning out into sun- 
 set. The flaming orb overhead had gathered back 
 into itself the myriad shafts it had been brandish- 
 ing all day, and seemed melting away with the 
 fury of its fire. The clouds flared up like a 
 furnace, as though to infuse the shrinking sky 
 with a little warmth against the numbing touch 
 of the night. 
 
 Zillah looked up. Glory and splendour — but 
 before long, the darkness. These things were 
 riddles, even as her own life. 
 
58 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Softly Zillah entered the shop. Yeiteles was 
 weighing out bags of sugar near the window. It 
 was a task that could well be entrusted to him. 
 Rhadamanthus, Chief Justice of the heathen Sheol, 
 was surely not more critical in his verdicts than 
 Yeiteles in his judgment of the scales. He never 
 gave over-weight ; he kept that for his perquisite. 
 
 From the kitchen came voices. Ah, of course, 
 it was Salka and the wooer. He had slipped 
 Zillah's memory. Well, one could not remember 
 everything, and she had so much to think of A 
 few steps brought her into their presence. At her 
 entrance Salka started up and fixed her with an 
 eager, anxious glance. The dry fir-logs on the 
 kitchen-hearth flared up like torches and made, 
 Zillah's features stand out as in daylight. Yes, 
 thought Salka, she had come to her decision ; her 
 face showed serene with certainty ; the furrows of 
 self-questioning had disappeared, and round her 
 lips played a smile, like a halo of victory. 
 
 A quiver of rebellious pain trembled through 
 Salka's heart. Why had she thrown away her 
 chance when it had been thrust upon her unsought ? 
 The intimation which had crept into her brain 
 the night before, and which that afternoon had 
 ripened into conviction — why had it come so late 
 — too late? Had she known then what she knew 
 now she would have set herself to win him, what- 
 ever might betide thereafter. She had trifled wiih 
 her good fortune, and this was how it worked its 
 revenge. But she must not show anything ; she 
 must be brave, brave and maidenly — the one thing 
 meant the other. 
 
 " I am glad she is better," she said calmly, in 
 reply to Zillah's remark anent the condition of an 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 59 
 
 imaginary friend suffering from a fictitious illness ; 
 " very glad indeed. Guess what we shall have for 
 supper." 
 
 Zillah shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Sour cabbage stew and blue potatoes." 
 
 Zillah opened her eyes. 
 
 " It's Enoch's favourite dish — he just told me 
 so," explained Salka. 
 
 " Is it ? " queried Zillah in neutral tone. 
 
 But Salka accentuated the question her own 
 way ; to her it sounded instinct with solicitous 
 interest. " Ah, she has a right to know his 
 favourite dishes," she thought bitterly. 
 
 " My dead mother preferred it to all others," 
 said Enoch, quietly ; " she was a good woman, 
 and I think one can honour the memory of a good 
 woman, even by the eating of cabbage stew." 
 
 Zillah glanced at him strangely ; his words rang 
 so full and true. Then her bosom heaved with a 
 sudden, nameless anger ; why had chance hurled, 
 this taunt in her teeth ? It was a grand thing to 
 boast of the love one bore to one's mother. Not 
 everybody could do that ; she least of all. 
 
 " She must have been good," said Salka, unable 
 to resist her impulse ; " she has left testimony of 
 it in " she stopped short, flushing. 
 
 ** In her son?" supplemented Enoch, with a 
 deprecatory smile ; "Oh, I am no paragon— I am 
 full of faults and blemishes;" — Zillah recognised, 
 the words — "for instance, I impose myself on 
 people to whom my presence is irksome. That is 
 only one of the great precepts of humanity as laid 
 down by our Rabbins which I am violating. 
 
 Again " 
 
 Salka started up suddenly. " Mother is tapping 
 for me," she said, hurrying out. It was strange 
 that neither of the others had caught the signal. 
 
6o DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 There was silence between the two ; Enoch had 
 forgotten the second point of self-accusation and 
 stared mutely into the fire. Zillah took the initia- 
 tive ; her lips were trembling, but her voice was firm. 
 
 " I have deserved your reproach," she began, " I 
 have deserved it — can I say more ? And now that 
 you have heard me owning to my wrong, will you 
 do justice to me ?" 
 
 He signed her to continue. 
 
 " Then listen. Why are you here ? I have not 
 sent for you. You cannot claim that I have broken 
 faith with you ; there has been no promise of mine 
 I have omitted to make good. Is there any blame 
 you can attach to me ? " 
 
 " No, none," he said wearily, after a little pause- 
 ** You cannot help being what you are ; I cannot 
 help feeling what I feel. But why trouble over it ? 
 There is a remedy : I shall go." 
 
 An idea flashed on Zillah. No, he must not go 
 away ; he must stay on to be the prop whereon her 
 parents might lean their shattered, battered lives 
 when the blow came — how it pleased her to torture 
 hereelf with the thought. He was so good and kind 
 — he had studied the " great precepts of humanity " ; 
 he would comfort them and become their son for 
 charity's sake. 
 
 " Go } " she echoed, " who tells you to do that ? 
 Why not rather say you have not yet given yourself 
 a fair trial ? Why, once you are gone " 
 
 He started up and looked at her with straining 
 eyes. 
 
 " Yes } " he prompted. 
 
 " Your hopes go with you, I suppose." 
 
 " Hope ? Then there is really hope t " 
 
 " You must not press me for an answer ; who 
 knows } " 
 
 The equivocation came easily from her lips. What 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 6i 
 
 mattered it — one lie more or less? And this was 
 perhaps the only one which might be registered to 
 her credit in heaven. The fir-logs crackled and 
 sputtered as the tongues of flame licked each new 
 vein of resin ; both pretended to be listening to 
 them. Thus they could more plausibly give ear to 
 the rush and whirr of their own thoughts. 
 
 " So busy, children, that you don't even hear 
 my gossamer footsteps ? " Old Anshel's voice broke 
 in on them cheerily from the door ; " I suppose now 
 that I have sounded the alarm I may come in ? " 
 
 He answered his own invitation by striding into 
 the kitchen ; his quick eye observed in both some- 
 thing that looked very much like embarrassment. 
 The observation pleased him greatly ; this meant 
 making headway. 
 
 " I was half-way on to Tuschk when I met the very 
 man I wanted ; he was coming to me on the same 
 errand. So we finished our business in the open 
 road, and here I am again in good time and in still 
 better appetite. Where's Salka t " 
 
 "With mother," said Zillah ; "but don't be 
 afraid — the supper's cooking. Enoch and I are 
 cooking it, arn't we, Enoch ? " 
 
 "The bill of fare was certainly my suggestion," 
 answered the latter, with a flush of pleasure at her 
 appeal ; " but that is all I can take credit for." 
 
 " Thank God," muttered Anshel, " that saucepan 
 has done the business. It preached to her the 
 pleasures of housewifery. A marriage cooked in 
 a saucepan ; I should laugh if only I were sure she 
 has learned the sermon well by heart." 
 
 It was the pleasantest evening spent since 
 Enoch's arrival. He caught the inspiration of it, 
 and his parables, sophisms, and dialectic fireworks 
 came out thick as hail. Many a time he drove 
 Anshel into a nasty corner, but Anshel only 
 
62 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 chuckled with delight, like a three-year-old toddler 
 who has found a grown-up man to play with him. 
 Salka alone went about subdued and out of sorts, 
 with a touch of red about her eyes which might 
 possibly be attributed to an over-hasty drying of 
 tears. 
 
 Zillah had been sitting the whole evening on the 
 edge of her mother's armchair, stroking the wan 
 cheeks and fondling the nerveless hands. She 
 kept her place there even after the two men had 
 retired upstairs and Salka had retreated to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 "Just five minutes all to ourselves, little mother," 
 she said ; " it is such a long time since we spoke to 
 one another without a listener." 
 
 " Yes, quite two days ; I am forgetting the 
 sound of your voice— I mean the voice you keep 
 all for myself." 
 
 " Should you not begin to accustom yourself to 
 its absence } " asked Zillah pensively. 
 
 " Then you have settled with Enoch, and all is 
 well —is it true ? " 
 
 " Tell me, mother," said Zillah, ignoring the 
 question and avoiding the joy-lit look that 
 accompanied it ; " tell me : was it for the honour of 
 our house that this match was arranged ? " 
 
 " What a strange thing to ask, child," was the 
 answer; "for our honour? Of course not — for 
 your happiness." 
 
 "Then so long as I had that, so long as you 
 knew all my heart's desires were being gratified, 
 would that satisfy you ? " 
 
 " Quite ; what more are we to expect } Zillah, 
 what do you mean ? Why do you frighten me 
 with riddles ? " 
 
 "Forgive me — I was clumsy," stammered Zillah; 
 " I only meant to assure you that when I shall be 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. P3 
 
 away you shall hear of my happiness ; I shall 
 write you very, very often — " 
 
 " Yes, but what need is there of the assurance ? 
 Do not these things go without saying ? I make 
 no conditions with you, Zillah ; I do not ask you 
 to promise anything. I only want you to be a true 
 daughter of mine. The rest I leave to you. Come, 
 I am very tired ; put me to bed." 
 
 Silently Zillah did as she was bidden ; she could 
 not have uttered a word although it had been to 
 beg her life. A sense of foiled, abortive eftbrt 
 gnawed in her mind. She had attempted to feel 
 her way. She had achieved nothing. Ah, yes, 
 something. She had instilled into her mother the 
 vague apprehension which afterwards, when she 
 knew that her fears had not been visionary, would 
 dull the shock by its saving foreknowledge, 
 Zillah wondered that she could calculate these 
 things with such precision, could put upon them 
 their proper value ; and from that she learnt that 
 her heart was all out of gear — and perhaps not 
 only her heart but her reason as well. If not, the 
 two would not have made common cause to blunt 
 the sting of her offence. 
 
 Slowly she made her way downstairs into the 
 kitchen. Salka, too, was probably fatigued with 
 the long day's toil. 
 
 " I might as well lend her a hand while I can," 
 thought Zillah ; " next week, perhaps, she will not 
 mind the labour. It will help her to forget she 
 had a sister." 
 
 Salka hardly looked up at her entrance. 
 
 " So you have made up your mind," she began, 
 after a moment's silence. 
 
 " Yes, I have," replied Zillah, reckless and 
 defiant ; " I am going away from here." 
 
64 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 " I know Enoch's father wants you to Hve near 
 him," said Salka. 
 
 " Enoch's father ? I am not going with Enoch — 
 I am going with the Commissioner," she continued 
 calmly, noting Salka's look of stupefaction, " the 
 man you saw in the shop the other day. He asked 
 me to marry him this afternoon. I told him I 
 would consider, but he knows very well what my 
 answer will be. And now you can go and kill 
 mother with the news if you like." 
 
 The heavy silver ladle in Salka's hand clattered 
 to the ground and lay there disregarded. Then a 
 short inarticulate cry wrung itself from her lips. 
 Zillah did not heed it ; she sat down and carefully, 
 dispassionately smoothed back a tress of hair which 
 had struggled loose. 
 
 Salka listened : the words she had just heard 
 were vibrating with a strange after-note. At first 
 it was but an indistinct suggestion, then it shaped 
 itself into recognisable sounds, until it rang out 
 clear and resonant : 
 
 " Enoch is free — Enoch is free ! " 
 
 So he was not lost to her after all ? Fate had 
 been kind to her— had not taken offence at her 
 former rebuff. To waste this second chance would 
 be deliberately pushing aside the extended hand 
 of God. 
 
 " Zillah, do as your heart bids you," she said 
 slowly. 
 
 With a bound Zillah was at her side, peering 
 deeply into her eyes. 
 
 " Salka, are you really telling me to do that ? " 
 she panted ; " are you really in earnest ? No, I can 
 see you are not speaking to me in mockery. Ah, 
 the true little sister you are. Do you know, 
 Salka," she went on, almost sobbing, " I had 
 expected you would overwhelm me with your 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 65 
 
 reproaches ; I thought you would burst out crying, 
 and make me falter with your appeals and 
 passionate entreaties. And perhaps you would not 
 have needed to go so far ; just one little word of 
 remonstrance might have turned me from my 
 purpose — and I love him so. But you say I am 
 doing right ; that is the heaven-sign for which I 
 have been waiting. Oh, Salka, Salka ! " 
 
 Salka wrenched herself loose from her embraces ; 
 she did not deserve them. 
 
 " What is the use of your staying here eating 
 your heart out ? " she said quickly. " Would it be 
 more pleasant for me to see you do that than to 
 know that elsewhere you are tasting love and life 
 to the full } I should scold myself for a selfish, 
 whining weakling if, because of the pain of parting 
 with you, I should dissuade you from following 
 your truest impulse." 
 
 She paused for a moment ; then her eyes 
 brightened and her voice rose. 
 
 " But that is not the only reason why I ask you 
 to go, Zillah, A great paission awaits you. You 
 will accornpHsh /mwc^iox which you would never 
 find the s^pe hereX Out there, in the midst of our 
 enemies, to "mK5m we are but a name and an 
 execration — afmong them in secret and in ambush, 
 as it were, you will be able to champion our 
 struggling race. It is not our professed advocates, 
 who make a great noise and shout themselves 
 hoarse in the world's market-places, that shall works 
 our redemption. No ; it is the quiet example, thexj 
 living lesson, the subtle, voiceless persuasion by act 
 and deed, however small, which shall teach our 
 adversaries how they misjudge us. We want many, 
 many such teachers scattered abroad. Think of it, 
 Zillah, you will be one of them, and not the idlest. 
 
66 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 I know. Did my fate call me, ill-equipped though 
 I am, I should go likewise." 
 
 A great sigh rose from Salka's inmost heart as 
 she finished. That sigh was a prayer of gratitude. 
 God was merciful, and had given her something 
 wherewith to salve her conscience. It was no 
 longer an ignominious falsehood, a despicable 
 device, which made her send her sister adrift ; but 
 a great and glorious purpose which had ennobled 
 selfishness into self-sacrifice. 
 
 Zillah seemed to think so too. The colour in 
 her face ebbed and flowed, her fingers twined and 
 untwined as she listened. 
 
 " Can I ever thank you, Salka ? " she said, 
 finally ; " whence did you take that inspiration ? 
 I might have gone on thinking and thinking — it 
 would never have come to me. Salka, as you love 
 me, let me not hear another word from you to-night. 
 I want to soak my brain in what you have said — 
 to teach our enemies to love us ! /tVhat a task you 
 have set me. One thing you /Can be sure of — I 
 shall be loyal to it. I shall smg the songs of the 
 Lord in a strange land as no one has sung them 
 yet. Believe me, my life sHall not be lived in vain. 
 Do I not know it ? I must wipe many a tear from 
 the face of our nation^ misery, I must apply many 
 a bandage to its su-nerings, before I can hope to 
 earn atonement for the wounds I am inflicting on 
 those that gave me life." 
 
 She stopped and listened ; down the street a 
 horseman was passing at a furious galop. 
 
 " That is he," she muttered, her finger to her lip ; 
 "hark, how his restlessness is scourging him. 
 Come, Salka, if mother should wake she will wonder 
 what we are doing. Are you not lucky, Salka ? 
 Only a few days more and you will have no need 
 to share your mother with anyone else." 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 67 
 
 When Yeiteles entered the kitchen next morninp- 
 he had quite a shock. On the floor, rubbing 
 shoulders with the plebeian fire-tongs, lay the 
 silver ladle, disconsolate and neglected. 
 
 X. 
 
 It was the fourth morning following. Anshel had 
 started out quite early the previous day to collect 
 accounts in the neighbouring villages, and was not 
 expected back till late that evening. Zillah was 
 in the sick-room ; she had hardly stirred from it 
 during the last three days. Her mother wondered 
 at it, but she took it as she took every other bless- 
 ing, without enquiry. She knew it was dangerous 
 to question one's good fortune. 
 
 Enoch had been hovering about the house aim- 
 lessly. He thought he had something to wait for — 
 had not Zillah told him so } He had repeated her 
 words to himself time and again ; at first they 
 sounded sweet, comforting, inspiring. And then — 
 was it from the endless iteration .'' — they began to 
 lose the edge of their import. And now, as he re- 
 called them, sitting in his attic with the tremendous 
 tome of Talmudic lore in front of him, they seemed 
 hollow and lifeless, for they roused in him no 
 responsive thrill. From that he knew he had lost 
 faith in them. Anchorite though he was, he had 
 learnt so much of the world's ways that if a woman 
 would show favour to a man, her features, however 
 tense with pain, would soften at his approach, her 
 vacant eyes would become suffused with light and 
 life. Zillah's did nothing of the kind. Ah, it was 
 a difficult question — much more difficult than any 
 of those propounded in Treatise Baba Kama. But 
 he would have it answered this day. 
 
 Salka was in the shop. Somehow she was glad 
 of this new partition of labour between her and her 
 
68 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 sister ; it kept her for the most part out of her 
 mother's presence, and what had formerly appeared 
 to her a deprivation now came to her as a relief. 
 She felt guilty ; she had not yet taken herself to 
 account as to the extent and origin of the feeling, 
 because so far it was sufficiently strong as to over- 
 ride all attempts at self-analysis. It resulted in a 
 state of helpless bewilderment, which as often as 
 not overshadowed her perception of outward things. 
 
 That was apparently the case with her at present, 
 or else she would long ago have noticed the lanky 
 gendarme who was promenading up and down the 
 street, and casting a vexed look into the shop each 
 time he passed it. And so she started up half- 
 frightened as suddenly he clanked in. 
 
 " I want two copecks' worth of pipe-clay," he 
 said, looking round inquisitively. 
 
 " Pipe-clay ? We don't sell any here." 
 
 " Yes, you do — I bought some the other day ; 
 the tall young lady with the big, shining eyes 
 served me." 
 
 A light dawned on Salka. Swiftly she walked 
 to the backdoor. 
 
 " Zillah, I want you," she called up. 
 
 Her voice trembled, but she did not know it. 
 
 A minute passed and then Zillah appeared ; her 
 first glance caught the gendarme. 
 
 " A message ? " she asked. 
 
 The man nodded and looked towards Salka, who 
 had stepped to the other counter. 
 
 " She does not matter," Zillah impatiently replied 
 to the look. 
 
 "I was ordered to give it to nobody but you," 
 he explained, handing her the note, " so as to make 
 sure it reached you." 
 
 Zillah read it through, read it again and again, 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 69 
 
 as the man augured from the time she took in the 
 perusal ; it was not such a very long letter. 
 
 " I shall send the answer later, through some- 
 one else," she informed him at last. 
 
 The man hesitated. Zillah repeated her words. 
 Then he went, his head high in the air. He was 
 rather proud of the pipe-clay idea. 
 
 " Here," said Zillah, holding the letter out to 
 Salka. The latter took it, although her trembling 
 fingers almost refused her service. 
 
 " My despatches have arrived," she read ; " I am 
 to be given the post on condition that I report my- 
 self at Samarkand by noon on the fifth day from 
 this. We must go by the seven o'clock train to- 
 night : or, at the latest, we can leave at nine in the 
 locomotive car, which will be in time to meet the 
 South Line train at the junction. If you have not 
 sent your answer by seven, I know you will bring 
 it yourself at nine." 
 
 " To-night, then," said Salka, her gaze riveted 
 on the missive. Zillah did not answer, so that 
 Salka fancied she had only thought, not spoken 
 the words. 
 
 " To-night, then," she repeated, more loudly. 
 
 "God ! do I not know it without your dinning it 
 into my ears ? " cried Zillah. 
 
 " I thought you would be glad," ventured Salka, 
 timidly. 
 
 " Of course I am glad— so glad that I am 
 jealous of showing it. Only I thought it would 
 not be so soon." 
 
 " When did you expect it ? " 
 
 " In a month, in a year — and there would be a 
 chance of my being dead before then. It is true, 
 though, he gave me warning that he would want 
 me speedily, now that I come to think of it," she 
 went on almost rambling, " but I did not believe 
 
70 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 he meant it ; I did not believe this meant any- 
 thing save a bHnd, undiscerning happiness that 
 looked neither behind nor in front. And now that 
 I must use my sight it hurts. Yes, Salka, it hurts." 
 Entreatingly she turned her blanched t'^ce to her 
 sister ; in the garish sunshine it looked piteously 
 wan and drawn. 
 
 Salka crushed the Commissioner's letter with 
 feverish fingers. 
 
 " You are not going," she said, coming closer to 
 Zillah ; " you don't want to go. Your courage is 
 failing you." 
 
 A glad smile relaxed Zillah's features. She 
 clutched Salka's hand. 
 
 "Ah, you are my angel, as ever," she broke 
 out ; " you need but open your lips and help 
 comes. Indeed, it is merely my courage has 
 deserted me — not my desire. Only I did not know 
 it till you told me. Should I not be frightened to 
 give myself into a stranger's keeping, one of whom 
 I know nothing save that I love him ? And per- 
 haps love may not be a safe touchstone — perhaps 
 there is some alloy where my heart would fain only 
 discover refined gold. All these things are a 
 hazard, a life and death hazard, and is it to be 
 wondered at that a weak woman like me shrinks 
 from staking her all upon it? But now there 
 remains only one course : to cast misgivings to the 
 wind, to be brave and fearless, to trust that what 
 God makes us do is surely for the best. Salka, I 
 shall go." 
 
 Pensively the younger sister gazed out at the 
 apple-tree that stood sentry outside the shop, and 
 now seemed shaking its yellowing leaves as though 
 in disapproval. 
 
 " Is it worth it .'' " she asked, at last. 
 
 * You mean is it worth father and mother and 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 71 
 
 you ? I don't know ; did I not say it was a 
 hazard ? I only know that if I lose, I shall not be 
 sorry — because I should not dare to be." 
 
 A long silence followed. Salka spoke first. 
 
 " Father will not be home before eight." 
 
 " Yes, I have been thinking of that," said Zillah. 
 
 " You will want to see him ; and so you will not 
 be able to go before nine. In the meantime the 
 
 Com he will be waiting for an answer. Let 
 
 me take it to him." 
 
 Salka's dispassionate voice contrasted curiously 
 with Zillah's eager accents as she replied : 
 
 " Oh, Salka, I had intended asking you, but I 
 was afraid. I want to be with mother all I can ; 
 every hour I see her between now and to-night 
 might have to serve me with its memory for a 
 year." 
 
 " Why should you be afraid to ask me .'* Don't 
 you remember, I still owe you a service t " answered 
 Salka, in most business-like tone. One would think 
 she had not noticed the pain that quivered through 
 her sister's last words. 
 
 " I shall go over to the railway station shortly 
 before seven," she continued ; " I shall be sure to 
 find him on the platform. Would that not be best ? 
 You see he does not expect a message much before 
 then." 
 
 And smoothing the crumpled paper she held it 
 before Zillah. The latter nodded ; she had no need 
 to look — she knew it well by heart. 
 
 " You are doing your best to make it hard for 
 me, little sister," was all she said. And Salka knew 
 what she meant. 
 
 Without another word Zillah went back to her 
 mother. She must not waste the precious time ; 
 .she must take a deep impress of the dear, dear 
 features — deep enough to last her all her lifetime. 
 
72 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 Oh yes, that was what it would come to ; they 
 would never forgive her — she would be dead to 
 them. Her father would sit in the mourner's chair, 
 mourning her for the prescribed seven days, and 
 ever after observe the date of her flight as the 
 anniversary of her passing. With a sob she pressed 
 one hand to her eyes, but the terrible picture would 
 not vanish. 
 
 So she groped her way up the stairs. At the 
 top she came face to face with Enoch. He looked 
 at her with the curious hungry gaze, with which 
 she was well acquainted, but before he had time to 
 utter a word, she had opened the door and dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 With a sinking heart he crept down into the 
 shop. But Salka had heard him coming, and was 
 stooping over an account-book, adding up long 
 rows of figures. Calmly she went on with them 
 as he entered. Enoch watched her a little, waiting 
 vainly to see her turn her face upon him, and then 
 with a sigh he went back to his attic. So his fate 
 was sealed. Even Salka, kind, sweet-voiced, warm- 
 hearted Salka whom he had made the receptacle 
 of his doubts and anxieties, and who had ever 
 requited his confidence with her sympathy, even 
 Salka flouted him. Yes, he was only torturing 
 himself in vain. 
 
 But it was not the ledger Salka was so busy 
 with ; it was a reckoning of her own, and she was 
 well aware that the sight of Enoch might in some 
 way interfere with her result. And at that result 
 she must arrive quickly ; time was pressing. 
 
 The day sped on, both for Zillah and Salka, with 
 relentless rapidity. Zillah was calm — the stillness 
 of a dammed-up torrent. But Salka held her 
 feelings less under lock and key. As the afternoon 
 wore on a fever of impatience painted her pale face 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 7,3 
 
 with crimson eagerness. Her brain had become a 
 machine of blood and tissue, and its wheels were 
 revolving restlessly, straining their sweep and 
 compass without mercy, to achieve their task 
 betimes. And at last, towards evening, the colour 
 began to fade, for her thoughts no longer hustled 
 and jostled each other ; they were shaping them- 
 selves out of chaos into a compact resolve. So she 
 sat back in her chair, closing her eyes like one who 
 has done his work well and can afford to wait 
 patiently for the issue. 
 
 About a quarter to seven, Zillah, or something 
 that looked very much like her, came down and 
 said : — 
 
 " Had you not better go now ? " 
 
 " Yes," and Salka rose readily ; " what shall I tell 
 him?" 
 
 " Tell him that I shall come at nine." 
 
 Salka had to strain her ears so as to catch the 
 words. With a swift movement she drew down 
 Zillah's head and touched her lips with her own. 
 At the same time she looked deep into her eyes. 
 What she saw in them made her heart give a bound 
 of delight. Clearly she read there as from a manu- 
 script on which Zillah's soul had penned : " Save 
 me from myself!" 
 
 The next moment Salka was out in the street, 
 traversing the distance to the station with flying 
 feet. Quickly she recapitulated to herself the 
 reflections which had helped her to her resolution. 
 She would save her sister — that had been her 
 starting-point all along. It was not fulfilling a 
 duty, ic was only a chance, given her by God's 
 mercy, of redeeming herself from a deadly sin. At 
 the eleventh hour, as it were, the film of blindness 
 had been withdrawn from her vision. She had 
 seen,. and had stood shuddering as before an abyss. 
 
74 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 She had been content for the sake of an iniquitous 
 love, of which the gratification was at best uncertain 
 and precarious, to pay the price of a sister's undoing 
 and disownment, to pay for it with her parents' 
 broken hearts. She was the parricide — not Zillah. 
 Had Zillah not said, that but for her prompting, 
 her encouragement, she might never have had the 
 fortitude to cast herself afloat on those strange seas 
 beyond ? 
 
 And the sinful desire which had not yet entirely 
 taken its sting from out her bosom ? It did not 
 matter ; it would count as nothing beside the glad- 
 ness of her self-retrieving. It was a weed, and it 
 would die of its own loathsomeness. 
 
 Thank God there was yet time. 
 
 She had come to the station turnstile that 
 admitted on to the platform. The locomotive was 
 getting up steam ; porters and passengers were 
 hurrying in the wild pell-mell that precedes imme- 
 diate departure. But in the midst of the confusion 
 the tall figure of the Commissioner was striding up 
 and down leisurely, his hands in his pockets. He 
 knew the train would not leave without him unless 
 he willed it so. Outwardly he was calm — so calm 
 that no one would have suspected for a moment 
 that he was envying the locomotive for being able 
 to give vent to its feelings without running the risk 
 of comment. 
 
 As he turned back he caught sight of Salka in 
 the dim lantern-light, and came quickly towards 
 her. 
 
 ** I was sure she would send a messenger," he 
 said, eagerly ; " so I must wait till nine ? " 
 
 Salka's breath came fast. God help her now. 
 
 " You need not wait ; my sister is not coming," 
 she answered, without a quaver. 
 
 Then she stepped back ; in a moment the storm 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 75 
 
 would break. Presently he would be.c^in to fume 
 and rave and threaten : already she seemed to feel 
 his blows tingling on her face. 
 
 But no — he remained silent ; and yet this silence 
 was more terrible than would have been an 
 avalanche of rage. 
 
 After a while his lips moved. 
 
 " Why not ? " She almost had to guess the 
 question. 
 
 " Because she belongs to a race which imparted 
 to the world the commandment : ' Thou shalt 
 honour thy father and mother,' " replied Salka, 
 mechanically. She had conned her lesson well. 
 
 " Where is she ? " he asked suddenly. 
 
 " At home." 
 
 " Then I shall fetch her," he said, turning on his 
 heel. 
 
 Salka's heart beat like a sledge-hammer. 
 
 " It is useless, your Honour," she said, following 
 him and laying her hand on his arm ; " it is useless, 
 I assure you. You will find her at her mother's 
 bedside. Her mother has not left her couch for 
 three years, but she will be strong as a tigress 
 when it comes to struggling for her child, and I 
 think you can guess on whose side will be the 
 victory." 
 
 He had stopped and was looking at her dazed ; 
 then he said : " Yes I can guess. She asked you 
 to tell me all this — she, your sister? '^ 
 
 " She asks you to forgive her, and to forget her. 
 She says she will pray every day to our God for 
 your welfare ; she will beg Him to make you the 
 equal of the greatest in the land, to be good to 
 you for the sake of the goodness you had promised 
 her." 
 
 He seemed to be waking from his trance. 
 
 ** Goodness ? " he uttered, with a bitter laugh, 
 
76 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 " what goodness ? I had promised her my love, my 
 name,— but there was no kindness in that ; it was 
 only selfishness. I wanted her heart though she 
 brought it to me bleeding from a thousand 
 wounds. And therefore your God has punished 
 me for it, and has taken from me what I coveted 
 so greedily, in the very hour I had hoped for its 
 attainment. Ah ! this old God of yours is very 
 powerful ; yes, let her pray to Him for me, to send 
 me comfort, even as He has sent punishment. 
 Oh, must I believe it? She will not come — is she 
 sure she will not ? There is still time, you 
 know — " 
 
 Salka shook her head ; her heart was too full 
 for speech. He was strong indeed, the God of 
 Israel, and more than that. He protected His 
 children. 
 
 The iron horse on the rails stood champing and 
 quivering ; presently it snorted. The Commissioner 
 came close to Salka on the spur of a sudden 
 thought. 
 
 " When did you kiss her last ? " he asked. 
 
 The girl looked at him in terror — had he gone 
 mad } 
 
 " When ? " he repeated. 
 
 "Just before I came here," she replied, trembling. 
 
 The next instant he had caught her tight, his 
 beard was grazing her face, his lips burnt on hers. 
 Then he let her go. 
 
 " I have not been cheated out of that at least," 
 he said ; " it was to have been mine when we were 
 to meet with no parting before us. Tell her she 
 has given it to me by proxy. My Madonna of the 
 frontier ! She will know how much I loved her, if 
 I can leave her." 
 
 He turned quickly and made his way into the 
 compartment. 
 
DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 77 
 
 The guard signalled — the steam horse gathered 
 
 itself up and moved. 
 
 The Commissioner stood at the window and 
 
 waved his hand to Salka. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Salka remained on the platform long after the 
 rear-lights of the train had become swallowed up 
 in the darkness. With a sigh that was more a sob, 
 she started on her way home. She was safe — her 
 sister was safe. 
 
 All that now remained was to tell her so. When 
 she reached the house, she found Zillah in the kit- 
 chen counting the contents of a little iron casket. 
 
 " This is all I am going to take with me," she 
 said, without looking up ; " about a hundred roubles 
 I have saved ; I may need them." 
 
 " You will not need them — at least not to-night," 
 replied Salka. 
 
 Zillah raised her head. 
 
 " Then he has put off his departure ? " she asked, 
 her eyes radiant with a flash of hope. " Have his 
 despatches been revoked ? " 
 
 " No, they have not been revoked. He has gone." 
 
 "Gone?" 
 
 " I saw the train carrying him away — I swear to 
 you I saw it. I told him that you had changed 
 your mind, that you could not bear to desert your 
 parents on earth and your Father in heaven — that 
 you would die of it ; and he went away to prove 
 how he loved you. You can kill me for it, but I 
 could not do otherwise." 
 
 Zillah listened and her face became transfigured. 
 
 " You say that this was your doing ? " came 
 slowly from her. " You flatter yourself It was 
 not yours — it was my good angel's ; he has entered 
 into you, he has taken your shape and voice. I 
 have missed him these last days ; he had abandoned 
 
78 DAUGHTERS OF SHEM. 
 
 me and had taken my conscience with him. Or 
 else would I not have heeded my mother when 
 she asked me to be a true daughter to her ? I 
 knew I was rushing into the arms of my evil destiny, 
 but I did not struggle, for dimly, darkly I felt that 
 help would come in the extremest hour of the 
 peril. Salka, what can I do to repay you ? " 
 
 " You can marry Enoch," replied Salka, quickly ; 
 " you owe it, not to me, but to your parents ; it 
 will be your reparation for the wrong you all but 
 did them. Hush!" 
 
 She held up her finger warningly. Enoch was 
 heard descending the staircase. 
 
 " Can you oblige me with a piece of cord } " he 
 asked, stopping at the door. 
 
 " For what purpose, pray ? " asked Salka. 
 
 " I am packing — my train leaves at five to-morrow 
 morning. I cannot afford to neglect my affairs 
 any longer." 
 
 "Wait here a moment," said Salka, hurrying 
 out. " I shall look for some upstairs." 
 
 He took a step forward and stood gazing vacantly 
 into a corner. Suddenly he felt a light touch on 
 his hand. Zillah was quite close to him. 
 
 "And suppose I am one of your affairs?" she 
 asked, with downcast eyes. 
 
 " Zillah ! " he shouted. 
 
 She raised her glance and looked at him solemnly. 
 She saw the tears in his eyes and silently tightened 
 her clasp on his hand. 
 
 Five minutes afterwards Anshel's vehicle pulled 
 up outside the door. Salka stood on the step. 
 
 " News, good news," she whispered to him. 
 
 But Anshel needed no telling. He had guessed. 
 
The Sanken Kingdom. 
 
 WHENEVER he came into the village there 
 was a panic among the children. " Black 
 Anton is here," ran the cry, and in a moment the 
 streets were swept, and the romping, vociferous 
 crew, that just now had been scaring back the 
 twilight shadows, stampeded breathlessly to shelter, 
 and then stood peeping out through the holes in 
 the shutters, to watch the apparition go by. This 
 was the third generation of little villagers to whom 
 the said Black Anton had acted as bogey, and the 
 grandfathers fell into fits of musing as he passed, 
 because it was as though they saw the memory of 
 their youth stalking by visibly, and the world 
 seemed hardly to have grown older; here was 
 Black Anton still coming month by month, bringing 
 his salves and ointments and nostrums, the same 
 that had physicked them through their infant 
 tribulations, and now did the same office for their 
 children's children. Only the epithet to his name 
 was an anachronism, because his hair and beard, 
 jet black as they remembered it, was now as 
 bleached as theirs. 
 
 There was no apparent reason for the fear Black 
 Anton inspired ; it was merely a survival. The 
 little folks grew out of it as they grew out of their 
 short frocks and knickerbockers ; and then they got 
 so busy fighting the real terrors of life that they 
 had no time to hark back to those of their childhood. 
 For all that, it was on record that no inhabitant 
 of the village, unless he could reach the Mezuzzah* 
 if only by standing on tiptoe, had ever had 
 
 * Door-post amulet. 
 
8o THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 
 
 speech with Black Anton, or had ventured to stand 
 within ten yards of him. But that was before the 
 coming of Abner, who, when his parents died, was 
 sent to Hve with his uncle Baruch, the rope-maker. 
 
 " Did you have a bogey in your village ? " was 
 the first question his new acquaintances at Turok 
 asked him. 
 
 " No," answered Abner, looking puzzled. 
 
 " Well, we have," boasted the natives. 
 
 The boast rankled in Abner's mind ; it implied 
 a slur on the completeness of the organisations in 
 his birthplace. 
 
 " Are you very much frightened of him ? " he 
 asked, with a sudden thought. 
 
 " Awfully," replied the natives with much pride 
 and solemnity, " he is quite terrible." 
 
 " What does he do, for instance ? " continued 
 Abner sceptically. 
 
 " Ah, well, you see, he makes you run away." 
 
 " Is that all ? Then I don't believe he is so much 
 of a bogey as you think him. He won't make me 
 run away." 
 
 For answer he reaped a rich harvest of incredu- 
 lous smiles. 
 
 " Where is he ? " queried Abner, with the air of 
 a lion asking for his prey. 
 
 " He does not live in the village ; but he comes 
 here the second week in every month — that will be 
 next week." 
 
 " All right ; I shall be ready for him," said Abner, 
 and nonchalantly turned on his heel 
 
 In the days that elapsed before Anton's monthly 
 visit, Abner was the central object of interest to all 
 the little boys within a radius of two miles. Some 
 ridiculed him, some said he was mad, but all were of 
 opinion that something terrible was sure to befall 
 him. It would serve him right for his presumption ; 
 
THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 8i 
 
 he had no business, stranger that he was, to lay a 
 sacrilegious hand on the traditions of the place. 
 And so the outcome of the adventure was looked 
 forward to on tiptoe of expectation. 
 
 It was towards the end of the second week when 
 two scouts brought the news of Black Anton's 
 arrival ; he had been seen hobbling across the 
 market-place. 
 
 "You had better wait for him here — he will pass 
 by presently," Abner heard some one say : " now 
 you shall see whether he is a real bogey or not." 
 
 The next instant he found himself alone, but he 
 looked at the neighbouring windows and saw many 
 eyes watching his movements, A great feeling of 
 loneliness came over him, a sudden fear that he had 
 not weighed well the full import of his undertaking, 
 and he whispered to himself: 
 
 " Father told me there are no demons in the 
 world, except the Evil Desire that is inborn in man." 
 
 With that he regained some of his composure, 
 and sat down on a doorstep and looked to the top 
 of the street, where Anton was to appear. Five, 
 ten minutes passed, and Abner began to think, not, 
 perhaps, without a suspicion of satisfaction, that 
 Anton had changed his route, or that the whole 
 thing was only a hoax, when he saw something 
 turn the corner, something that was small and bent, 
 with a cataract of white hair about its shoulders, 
 and dressed in a coat of raw sheepskin that trailed 
 on the ground. Slowly it walked on, and when it 
 came abreast of him Abner stepped up, with a 
 curious tremor about his limbs, and his eyes half- 
 shut. 
 
 " Black Anton, I am not afraid of you, Black 
 Anton," he said. . 
 
 If he had had his eyes open he would have seen 
 that it devolved more on Anton to disclaim fear, for 
 
82 THE SUNKEN- KINGDOM. 
 
 he tottered back a pace or two, and his breath came 
 very fast, but that might have been with old age. 
 
 " Why should you be afraid of me, little boy ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Because all the others are." 
 
 " Yes, that is true," replied Anton, and Abner 
 could have sworn he heard a sob. 
 
 " And you are really not afraid of me, little 
 boy ? " asked Anton again. 
 
 " No, I am certain." 
 
 " Then come to my hut, beyond the mill-dyke, 
 you know ; come to-morrow, will you, little boy ? " 
 
 Abner thought he could not trust his ears, and 
 so he took courage and cast a look at the face 
 before him — a thin, wizened little face, sharp-curved, 
 with great angles at the jaws, and the stamp of 
 ineffable age imprinted upon it. And then he got 
 to the eyes, and gave a start of wonder, because 
 they were so much out of keeping with what he 
 had just seen ; they looked so hale and fresh and 
 bright, as though the morning dew of youth had 
 lain upon them but yesterday, and in them he saw 
 a voice that repeated the old man's prayer more 
 clearly than his lips had done. 
 
 " Why sholild I come to you at your hut ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Because you are not afraid of me, little boy," 
 came the answer like the refrain of a song. 
 
 Abner reflected. " I shall come if I can," he 
 said, at length. 
 
 Anton hung his head ; then he lifted it suddenly, 
 and his gaze flashed on Abner's with a wonderful 
 light that held it captive. 
 
 " I shall come," said Abner, speaking like one in 
 a dream. 
 
 " Good little boy ! good little boy ! " muttered 
 Anton. He opened his mouth to say more, but 
 
THE SUiVKEN KINGDOM. 83 
 
 checked himself with a gasp, and passed on down 
 the street, while Abner looked after the trailing 
 sheep-skin, and marked its wake over the dusty- 
 street stones as if he had never seen such a thing 
 in his life. Then he turned to go, all oblivious of 
 the skulkers behind the windows, when suddenly 
 they came trooping out and surrounded him, hold- 
 ing him back with eager little hands, and deafening 
 his ears with their loud-voiced curiosity. 
 
 " What did he say ? What were you talking 
 about ? Strip, and see if he has left the mark of 
 the evil eye on you anywhere." 
 
 Roughly Abner elbowed his way through the 
 crowd. When he had cleared it, he stopped a 
 moment, eyeing them in contempt. 
 
 " You want to know what he said. He said, 
 ' One fool may throw a stone into a heap of rubbish, 
 and a hundred wise men will look for it in vain.' " 
 
 It was early next afternoon that Abner wended 
 his way to the mill-dyke. Anton stood at the door 
 of his hut, as if he were looking for some one. 
 
 " Good little boy ! good little boy ! " he said, 
 stretching out his thin, shrivelled hand and draw- 
 ing his visitor into the hut. "Sit here — no, here; 
 the skins will be softer, and the sun cannot get at 
 you, good little boy ! " and he bustled about so 
 nimbly that Abner could not believe that this was 
 the foot-sore grey-beard of yesterday. " So your 
 name is Abner ? " he went on ; " ' Father of light,' 
 it means. Ah ! I know your tongue, though I am 
 not of your faith and race. A great light shall be 
 born of you, little boy, I prophesy." 
 
 Abner said nothing, and only listened with all 
 his ears. 
 
 " You are silent ; you are amazed at my ram- 
 blings ? " said Anton, with an anxious smile ; 
 " indeed, I know what I am saying ; but only those 
 
84 THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 
 
 who have lived in the wilderness can feel what joy- 
 it is to hear one's tongue shaping words and 
 utterance in another's hearing ; but T shall be 
 silent, if you prefer it, only do not go away, not 
 just yet." 
 
 " What are you doing here, in the wilderness ? " 
 asked Abner. " Why do you not live in the towns, 
 amidst people, where there is plenty of talk 
 going on ? " 
 
 " Is it there less lonely than in the desert ? 
 Noise is not company ; in truth, where many lips 
 speak, the heart is oftenest silent." 
 
 " But why are you here ? You did not grow on 
 a tree, as the saying is," insisted Abner. 
 
 " I have known the world," smiled Anton, evading 
 the question : " but I have forgotten it — you cannot 
 forget a thing unless you have known it, can you, 
 Abner ? " 
 
 And, while Abner was still pondering what reply 
 to make to his strange questioner, he felt him take 
 his hand and lead him to the window. 
 
 "Do you see that pond over there.''" Anton 
 was saying. " I stood by that pond when the 
 timber of the mill-wheels which its waters drive 
 was yet young undergrowth in the forest. And 
 what do you think I did, Abner } I drowned a 
 whole world there." 
 
 "It hardly looks large enough for it," said Abner, 
 dubiously. 
 
 " Ah, but a man's world is not so large as one 
 of God's," went on Anton, very seriously, " and 
 yet mine was a fair size. It was a young man's 
 world, you see, and I had made it into a kingdom, 
 with capitals and palaces and sanctuaries. And 
 then something came that threatened to lay my 
 capitals waste, my minarets were tottering, and my 
 palaces were becoming owls'-nests ; and therefore, 
 
THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 85 
 
 rather than my eyes should be saddened by the 
 ruin, I came here and buried it, while it was still 
 stately and splendid. And thus I have a noble 
 memory to feast my soul on. Was it not wise of 
 me, little Abner ? " 
 
 " Perhaps it would have been wiser if the king 
 had straightway followed his kingdom," said Abner, 
 not because he understood exactly what the old 
 man meant, but because he was evidently expected 
 to say something. 
 
 " Yes, that would have been wiser," said Anton, 
 stroking the little head ; " but I was very ignorant 
 in those days." And then it came out like the rush 
 of a whirlwind : " Shall we be friends, little Abner } 
 Now just look at me very carefully, and see if 
 there is anything in me to make you desire my 
 friendship." 
 
 Abner did as he was bidden, and knew at once 
 what answer to give ; he saw now why the look in 
 the man's eyes was so solemn and splendid — it was 
 the reflection of his sunken kingdom. And there- 
 fore he said nothing, and only held out both 
 his hands. 
 
 " You think, perhaps, I am a poor man," hurried 
 on Anton, seizing them as if he would never again 
 let them go ; " but. you are mistaken. I have much 
 gold to give you — a treasure of millions. I know 
 where it is hidden, and if I live long enough, we 
 shall dig for it deeply. Only you must come again 
 — to-morrow, and the day after, and every day." 
 
 " I shall come — not for the millions, but for you," 
 said Abner. 
 
 " Look here," said Anton, quickly drawing aside 
 a curtain that partitioned the hut at the further 
 end, "these are the mines. Are they not worth 
 coming for ? " 
 
 Abner scanned in amazement the stately array 
 
86 THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 
 
 of books that ran, row on row, along the wall on 
 rudely-hewn ledges. He had seen many books — 
 quite twenty — in his father's house ; his father had 
 been a great scholar, and would have made one of 
 Abner. And if one could gather so much know- 
 ledge from only a score of volumes, how much 
 more from these many hundreds ! 
 
 "Are they not good to look at?" asked Anton, 
 noting his spell-bound gaze. " And how they talk ! 
 The pity is only they are all soul and no body, 
 and it feels good at times to be able to touch with 
 one's hands as well as with one's mind. Stand 
 close to me, Abner." 
 
 It was not till near sunset that Abner left the 
 hut. 
 
 " Do you see that ? " said Anton, at the door, 
 pointing to the glowing west. " This is the hour 
 at which the day seems either the most gladsome 
 or the dreariest ; for it is the time to take the 
 measure of its import, and judge its worth and 
 value. If we have spent it well, that rosy hue is 
 the emblem of hope and solace ; but if we have 
 done otherwise, it shall be the flaming red, which 
 is the badge of guilt and shame. Abner, when 
 you rise at morn, let your first thoughts be of the 
 evening. Life is but a day." 
 
 And Abner hurried home through the gathering 
 shadows, and the eyes which he knew were follow- 
 ing him from the hut seemed to cast a light before 
 him all along his path. But when he came to the 
 pond he stopped for a while and looked in. Quite 
 right ; at the bottom of it there were the palaces 
 and temples, with red banners waving over them 
 m triumph. 
 
 Abner kept his promise faithfully. Day by day 
 he visited the hut, and each time the bonds of com- 
 panionship twined closer round the old man and 
 
THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 87 
 
 the lad. At first nobody took much notice of their 
 intercourse, because Abner was too small a thing 
 to trouble about. It was only when the increase 
 of inches in his stature became more apparent, and 
 his uncle began to think him available for practical 
 purposes, that the matter came up for discussion. 
 
 " Where is he all day?" asked Baruch. " I believe 
 he goes to the Gentile, the ointment-mixer." 
 
 " Because you wake up at midday you think it is 
 only just dawn," said Fryda, his wife ; " I have 
 been sure of it for a long time." 
 
 " How did you find out ? " 
 
 " I asked the boy, and he told me." 
 
 " Well, then, this shall be the end of it," said 
 Baruch ; " to-morrow he starts with me in my 
 rope-walk." 
 
 "Nothing of the sort," said Fryda; "he is too 
 good for hemp." 
 
 " Then what would you have him be — a Gentile ?" 
 
 " There is no fear of that ; I have watched him 
 keenly — he has not departed from the ordinances 
 of our faith, no, not by a nail's breadth. There is 
 no harm in the Gentile ; he is good and wise, and 
 his cure for the colic is excellent. Rather let 
 Abner learn the making of medicines and the 
 preparation of salves, which we can afterwards sell 
 at a great profit." 
 
 "And the poor shall have them for nothing!" 
 interposed Baruch. 
 
 " Selfish to the core you are, Baruch, my hus- 
 band," said Fryda, in annoyance, *' to snatch away 
 from me the merit of a pious resolve — was it not 
 on the tip of my tongue } Yes, Baruch, as I was 
 saying, the poor shall have them for nothing." 
 
 And so Abner was relieved of a great fear, the 
 fear that he would be put to a trade and his oppor- 
 tunities of associating with Anton restricted. But 
 
88 THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 
 
 when instead he found them facilitated, and knew 
 he could give his heart's desire full rein without 
 danger of having to curb it in mid career, then he 
 did marvellous things. Already Anton had given 
 him much knowledge ; the books on the wall were 
 beginning to talk to him in their strange languages, 
 softly and falteringly, it is true, but he was getting 
 to understand them. Now, however, that it was 
 no forbidden thing, his passion seized him with a 
 giant grasp and hurried him on irresistibly. 
 
 " More, more, Anton," he would cry ; " why are 
 you so niggardly ? All that you gw^ me has been 
 but for one tooth, and I have so many teeth." 
 
 And Anton stood by, almost terrified by the 
 ravenous greed he had created, and thanked God 
 that in his own store of provision there was suffi- 
 cient to satiate it. 
 
 So the years passed on in summers and winters. 
 And at last there came a summer when Anton 
 knew he would not hear the reapers' harvest song, 
 because another reaper would forestall them. 
 
 " We shall not work to-day," he said when 
 Abner came one afternoon ; " we shall go out and 
 listen to the sunshine." 
 
 Abner helped him out to the little hillock, which 
 was Anton's favourite basking-place, because from 
 there he could see over to the pond. 
 
 " I feel so young to-day, little Abner," he said, 
 looking up at the sturdy young figure that towered 
 over him, " I could almost start fashioning myself 
 another kingdom." 
 
 " I have fashioned one for you," said Abner, 
 quietly — "in song," he went on in answer to 
 Anton's questioning look, "a song of sovereignty 
 it is. Would you care to hear it t " 
 
 Anton nodded, and Abner took out of his pocket 
 a written sheet, and read from it the tale of a man, 
 
THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 89 
 
 who, if he had chosen, might have been a king over 
 his fellows ; only he thought there was no stability 
 or endurance in such dominion, and therefore he 
 resigned his sway, and dwelt in the wilderness, 
 alone, the monarch of his solitude. But one day 
 there came a little child, and in its bosom he founded 
 a mighty realm, that stood fast in its foundations, 
 wherein he ruled as ruler absolute ; and beneath 
 his sceptre the kingdom widened, until it embraced 
 a whole world, in which there was but one lord and 
 one vassal. And so the song went on, while the 
 sunbeams danced on the singer's face, and the 
 listener's head drooped lower and lower. And 
 when the last great surge of melody had ebbed 
 away, Anton looked up and said : 
 
 " Who taught you that, little boy ? " 
 
 " So you are human, after all?" laughed Abner, 
 with a happy laugh ; " human, with the besetting 
 sin of mankind, which is vanity. You would have 
 me utter your name aloud, shout it to the skies, 
 blazon it abroad to the ends of the earth ? Then, 
 listen : 'Anton, Black Anton It was that taught me 
 the golden glory of the sunrise, the majesty of noon, 
 the grandeur of the darkness — taught me the 
 magic of the seasons, the mysteries of life and 
 death.'" 
 
 And then suddenly he knelt down and put his 
 arm round the stooping shoulders and whispered : 
 
 " For a long time I have been hearing a voice in 
 my heart, struggling for utterance with the cadences 
 of music wherein the song of the lark, the laugh 
 of the flowers and the cry of the tempest were all 
 blended. But I refrained from speaking with that 
 voice till it should be able to give forth something 
 that was worth the hearing, for I had sworn to 
 myself that your name should be its first theme. 
 Tell me, master, have I done well ? " 
 
90 THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 
 
 " You have done exceedingly well — better than 
 the theme deserves or its inspiration might warrant. 
 What I have done for you is such a little, little 
 thing compared to the debt I owe you." 
 
 Abner almost sprang back in his astonishment. 
 
 "The debt you owe me?" he echoed. "You 
 who have made me rich with a treasure of millions, 
 with uncountable, imperishable wealth — you speak 
 of owing me? Anton, you have always deemed 
 me worthy of your truth; do not humiliate me 
 thus." 
 
 Anton struggled to his feet, and his face shone. 
 
 "When I went through the villages," he said, 
 " and saw the little ones fly from me as from a 
 pestilence or a wild beast let loose, I used to ask 
 myself: 'Anton, why has this reproach been put 
 upon you? Why have you been set aside from 
 the rest of men to be an outcast from the places of 
 purity and innocence — the hearts of the children ? 
 Surely there is something imperfect in you, some- 
 thing lacking ; perhaps God has forgotten to give 
 you a soul, and the children have discovered it.' 
 Then you came and stood before me and said, 
 
 * Anton. I am not afraid,' and then I knew I 
 possessed all the attributes, God-born and earth- 
 born, which man should possess. My reproach 
 was taken from me, and when I enter the gates of 
 death, the Recording Angel can no longer say : 
 
 * Here comes the man of whom the children were 
 frightened.' I am no longer ashamed to die — that 
 is the debt 1 owe you, Abner. And now come, it 
 is getting chill, and the sunset is near, very near." 
 
 The next morning when Abner came to the hut, 
 he found the old man stretched on his couch, still 
 and stately ; but in the glazed eyes could be read 
 a proclamation of victory, and from his rigid lips 
 
THE SUNKEN KINGDOM. 91 
 
 one could almost hear and see the paean of triumph 
 ascending : his reproach had been taken from him. 
 
 Years afterwards, a fine gentleman and a beau- 
 tiful lady were standing in the little Christian 
 cemetery, near Turok, before a magnificent tomb 
 of marble, coped high by a golden dome. 
 
 " I could not do less for him," the gentleman was 
 saying ; " it was but the poorest way of honouring 
 the memory of a king. And now that you have 
 seen his grave, come and I shall show you where 
 his kingdom is sepulchred." 
 
 And presently they stood before the brimming 
 pond, that drove the lazy mill-wheels as of old, and 
 looked into its depths. 
 
 " Do you not see the cupolas and the buttresses, 
 with the crimson banners streaming aloft t " he 
 asked. 
 
 The lady looked and saw them distinctly, because 
 she saw everything through his eyes. 
 
 " What his story was } " he asked, in answer to 
 her question. He took her hand in his and went 
 on, dreamily, '' I don't know, Rachel ; he never 
 told me. But, if I may guess, woe to the kingdom 
 whose king has not won the queen with whom he 
 would share his throne." 
 
The Conquest of 
 
 flapon Pittpick. 
 
 1'^HEY were five in number, but all of them 
 lumped together would hardly have made 
 more than the bulk of a large-sized man. Never- 
 theless, black wrath was seething in their bosoms 
 as pitch in a tar-churner's cauldron. They were 
 sitting on the hither slope of the hill where the 
 forest began, and where the trees stood up proud 
 and sturdy, as though they knew they were the 
 advance-guard of the great army behind. 
 
 " What good did you do yourselves by driving 
 away old Tobiah ? " Aaron Pittrick was saying. 
 " Did I not always tell you, ' Let him alone ; don't 
 play tricks on him ; you don't know whom you 
 may get in his place ' ? " 
 
 *' What, we drove him away ? " said Leyb Kutchk, 
 indignantly. " Were not all our tricks of your 
 devising ? Of course, it wasn't you who suggested, 
 in the end, that we should smear his chair with glue, 
 and then you say it's our fault he would not stay 
 with us longer." 
 
 " I won't deny it," said Aaron, gravely ; " I did 
 suggest it ; but then I never thought you would be 
 such donkeys as to take me seriously. Anyhow, 
 did we not have a six-weeks' holiday before they 
 found another in Tobiah's place ? The old rascal 
 went about the whole country and spoilt our repu- 
 tation thoroughly." 
 
THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 93 
 
 " And now we must pay for it," grumbled Itchki, 
 Leyb's brother. " We haven't had an off-day for 
 three months — not even on Rosh Hodesh"^ or on 
 Fast Days. It's nothing now but grind, grind, grind, 
 week in, week out. Does he think we are the 
 Talmud School at Volesen, and does he want to 
 make a Rambam out of every one of us ? " 
 
 " I don't think you have done us much of a ser- 
 vice, Aaron," interposed Reuben Spitzig. " Since 
 Avrom Peltzer has been our schoolmaster I have 
 had no peace at home. Every day there's a dif- 
 ferent misfortune. ' Avrom Peltzer told me you 
 did not know your Rashi yesterday,' says my father. 
 Or again, ' You were half an-hour late.' And out 
 comes his cobbler's strap, and " 
 
 Reuben paused, overcome by the painful nature 
 of his recollections. Enoch Jummler, the remain- 
 ing constituent of the group, said nothing, and 
 only gazed at Reuben Spitzig with a sympathy 
 born of a fellow-feeling. 
 
 Aaron Pittrick sat for a while in silent unconcern 
 at the grave charges levelled against him. Then 
 he smiled in the cunning, world-wise manner he 
 had adopted ever since he had been advanced to 
 the dignity of trousers. 
 
 " I wonder you don't call me your angel of death 
 straight off," he said at length, with a scornful curl 
 of lip. " Of course, you had a fine time of it with 
 old Tobiah, considering he was as deaf as a sauce- 
 pan with a broken handle, and instead of answering 
 his questions one had only to open and shut one's 
 mouth, and he would nod and say, ' You have 
 answered correctly. You will be a glory to Israel 
 and a pride to your parents.' Well, what has been, 
 can be again. You need not have Avrom Peltzer 
 for your teacher a moment longer than you wish." 
 * New Moon. 
 
94 THE CONQUEST OF AARON riTTRICK. 
 
 " How ? Why ? What can we do ? " rose from 
 his Hsteners. 
 
 " That's not my business," answered Aaron. " If 
 you want to cure, you must make your remedy. If 
 I interfere and anything turns out wrong, there 
 won't be a good hair on Aaron Pittrick's head." 
 
 "That's just Hke you," growled Itchki. "If we 
 come to grief over anything, you turn on one side 
 and snigger into your fist. And now you want to 
 make us your cat's paw again ; but I shall tell you 
 one thing: I won't have anything to do with 
 Avrom Peltzer; let him cram our heads to bursting, 
 let him make our fathers flay us alive. If you want 
 to get rid of him, do it yourself." 
 
 " Yes, you are ready with good advice, but when 
 it comes to doing something yourself, you just get 
 behind us and look on," said Enoch, reproachfully. 
 
 " That's as much as calling me a coward," said 
 Aaron resolutely. " Will you make a wager that 
 within a week from now Avrom will not be gone 
 from here ? " 
 
 " Who will make him go ? " 
 
 " I shall," said Aaron, " all by myself— not to 
 please you, but because I hate him. He gives him- 
 self airs as if he did nothing all night but talk to 
 the angels." 
 
 " And what is the wager ? " asked Itchki. 
 
 " If you win, I give you each two carrots ; if I 
 win, it means ten slaps on the face for each of you." 
 
 Itchki laughed. "Why, that's cheap," he said. 
 " Ten slaps for two carrots ! My mother once gave 
 me twenty for half a one." 
 
 " I am glad you think it a fair bargain," said 
 Aaron. " Do you all agree to it ? " 
 
 " Provided you don't make them too hard," inter- 
 posed Enoch, a little anxiously. 
 
THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTKICK. 95 
 
 " Don't be afraid," replied Aaron, assuringly ; 
 "your head won't come off, you are much too stiff- 
 necked for that." 
 
 " Within a week, you said ? " asked Itchki. 
 
 " Not a day later. I tell you, you have had the 
 most of Avrom Peltzer. Of course they will find 
 us another, but he can't be worse, unless it's Satan 
 himself Come, we shall be late for the Havdolah,"^ 
 and then there will be more whacks." 
 
 A minute after they had scampered down the 
 hill and had reached the plain, Avrom Peltzer, the 
 much-discussed schoolmaster, stood on the height 
 and watched them disappear with a strange pucker 
 about the corners of his mouth. He had gone out, 
 that sweet-smelling Sabbath afternoon, so that his 
 lungs might feed on the spice-laden air, and that 
 his soul might feel alive with the myriad souls of 
 turf and flower and water-ripple. And so he had 
 crossed the tree-crested hillock into the hollow on 
 the other side, and there he had lain, half buried 
 in the cradling grass, and fancying himself back 
 again in the far distant village where he had started 
 his life's journey, that had brought him — Whither } 
 How far ? How near to his destination ? He looked 
 up at the great forest giants that must have gathered 
 so much wisdom in their many-centuried lives, but 
 they only went on shaking their towering heads, 
 like seers in doubt. Who, indeed, could tell him 
 why it had been ordained that his should be a 
 life of solitude, a life void of kith and kin and 
 company, that the world should be to him 
 only a peopled desert, with here and there a 
 wayside inn ? 
 
 So he had lain dreaming, until his brain had 
 grown weary with its futile searchings, and became 
 clouded with sleep. He had been awakened by the 
 
 * Blessing at conclusion of the Sabbath. 
 
96 THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 
 
 sound of the boyish voices on the other side, and 
 he had listened to their talk with a spell upon his 
 limbs that kept him from stirring. And when he 
 had heard them depart, he crept to the summit, 
 and there he stood, alone with the sunset, trying 
 hard to fathom which was greater — the glory of 
 God's world, or his heart's wretchedness. This then 
 was the outcome of the zeal and devotion he had 
 expended on his work for the past three months, 
 of the ungrudging, whole-souled effort that was to 
 have borne such glorious fruit. Why had he come 
 here to Uslar } Not because it offered an increase 
 on the miserable pittance by which he had sub- 
 sisted in his former situation, but because there 
 would be an ampler sphere for his energies, a 
 wider range for indulging the fevered craving of his 
 soul, the God-born impulse that gave him no rest, 
 urging him on even as it urged on the prophets of 
 old. Young as he was, he was a skilled workman 
 in his craft ; but he could do nothing without his 
 tools, and these tools were these children who had 
 just now spoken of him, so harshly, so heartlessly. 
 He almost cried as he recollected the phrase of 
 the one : " Not to please you, but because I hate 
 him." Aaron Pittrick it was who had said it. 
 Avrom knew his voice ; he had heard it lifted up 
 against him many a time in defiance. He had 
 thought it was the obstinacy of a child, but from 
 these words there rang the resentment of a grown 
 man. Hatred ! O God, for all the love he had 
 shown in the course of his mission — hatred, that 
 went the length of a conspiracy to chase him from 
 their midst. True, that, no doubt, was only a piece 
 of sheer bravado, for he knew that the " house- 
 masters " held him in high esteem, and he knew 
 furthermore he was not capable of any act to 
 forfeit that. But the battle was hard ; where he 
 
THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 97 
 
 had hoped to find allies, he had found adversaries. 
 Well, he could work on till he succeeded. God 
 would be his ally, for the work was in His cause. 
 
 The classes for the next day were over. The 
 pupils had been strangely quiet and subdued ; they 
 had attended to their lessons without a murmur, 
 without a single interruption. Even Aaron Pittrick 
 had been wonderfully obedient ; for the first time 
 he had refrained from offering insolence, either by 
 word or look, to his teacher. Avrom thought he 
 noticed, though, a curious restlessness in his 
 manner, as if the boy were at issue with himself; 
 but that was, after all, only a fancy, and, at all 
 events, it did not detract much from the improve- 
 ment in his behaviour. 
 
 As usual Avrom had left the schoolroom last, 
 and, on stepping out into the street, he saw Aaron 
 a little distance in front of him going along in 
 deep meditation. Quickly he caught him up and 
 tapped him on the shoulder. 
 
 The boy looked up, and on seeing Avrom, 
 flushed darkly, and his eyes dropped as if they 
 wished to conceal some tell-tale thought. 
 
 " Conning over your lessons, Aaron ? " asked 
 Avrom with a smile. 
 
 Aaron scowled. " No ! " he said shortly ; " I have 
 enough of them in the school. " 
 
 "That is unkind of you," said Avrom, with 
 another smile that seemed the ghost of the former. 
 '• I saw you were pondering, and your thoughts 
 could not dwell on a better theme." 
 
 " That's your idea," replied Aaron gruffly ; " you 
 are a schoolmaster, you make your living by 
 lessons." 
 
 Avrom winced. " It is indeed bread and meat 
 to me," he said slowly, " but not only of the body ; 
 of the soul too. And therefore your merit would 
 
98 THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 
 
 be greater than mine ; you are not paid for it, you 
 see." 
 
 Aaron made no answer, but walked on in silence 
 and surliness, and Avrom continued with his voice 
 of melancholic sweetness : 
 
 " See, Aaron, if I could give you the under- 
 standing of these things, I would be content to die 
 to-morrow, for I have learnt what they are, and in 
 me their end is accomplished. And so I would 
 hand them to you, for you to give to others in due 
 time, and that is the truest life a man can live." 
 
 " I don't see that what you have to give is so 
 valuable," said Aaron stubbornly ; " and if you are 
 tired of your life, that is your own affair. You have 
 almost made me tired of mine." 
 
 The last words were only a breath, but the school- 
 master heard them, and turned even paler than his 
 wont. 
 
 " Oh, I am not tired of my life," he said, with a 
 cheerfulness that rang hollow; "I have only just 
 started it, and I have still a great deal to do." 
 
 And then again his voice changed and became 
 solemn. *' Aaron, have you forgotten that God has 
 made us a nation of priests ? He has driven us out 
 of our land so that we might make the whole 
 world His altar — a sanctuary where we are to 
 teach ourselves and our brothers to offer sacrifice. 
 And what are we to offer up } Not our love, our 
 abnegation, our truth — those we are to keep for 
 ourselves ; but we are to render up our hatreds, 
 our evil passions, our falsehoods, because God is a 
 great Magician, and can make metal out of dross, 
 and ornaments out of abominations. And that is 
 what we learn from our high traditions, from the 
 examples of our great men, and that is why I 
 would have you study their records night and day, 
 till you have caught the echo of their loud-uttered 
 
THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 99 
 
 testimony. A nation of priests we are to be ; 
 Aaron, your namesake was the first and greatest of 
 them — and there shall be no falsehood and hatred 
 amongst us." 
 
 Avrom stood with his tall form reared to its 
 height, and to Aaron's fancy his voice came from 
 among the clouds, and with a shriek, half of anger, 
 half of terror, he tore himself from under Avrom's 
 caressing hand. 
 
 " I won't have you preach to me," he shouted; 
 " you are not our Rabbi — only our schoolmaster." 
 
 And before Avrom could realise the fact, Aaron 
 had darted off, and the next moment he had turned 
 the corner of the street. A full minute the school- 
 master stopped on the spot, then he walked on, 
 smiling to himself and whispering : " I have made 
 him angry, and that is better than hatred ; to- 
 morrow I shall make him ashamed ; shame is 
 better than anger. And after shame there follows 
 repentance, and then — ah, we shall see." 
 
 To-morrow came, but it brought no Aaron 
 Pittrick to the school. It also failed to bring 
 several others — some of them the most regular of 
 the pupils. Avrom thought nothing of it, and 
 made no comment. But the next day his class 
 had dwindled down to half its normal size, and the 
 day after it only contained a few stragglers. He 
 was getting puzzled, and when, the following 
 morning, he entered the schoolroom and found it 
 empty, he knew that the thing was not without a 
 meaning of its own. He never had frequent 
 occasion to be in the streets, but now it struck him 
 that the last few times he had been out and about, 
 the people he had met had looked askance at him, 
 and had ignored his salutations or answered them 
 in an embarrassed, makeshift fashion ; and in the 
 
lOO THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 
 
 Synagogue the row of seats containing his own 
 had suddenly lost all its occupants. 
 
 He sat down on one of the desks, staring in 
 front of him, and racking his brain to think of any 
 shortcoming or dereliction of duty of which he 
 might unconsciously have been guilty. He could 
 not convict himself of anything, though he was not 
 lenient in his judgment of himself And then he got 
 up with a light in his eyes that seemed to spread over 
 his face, and lay upon it like a halo ; and so he 
 walked through the streets, his step firm, his head 
 erect, heedless of the prying eyes and the covertly 
 pointed fingers that gauntleted him on his way. 
 And when he had entered his little room he took 
 down from the shelf the commentary on " The 
 Duties of the Heart," and in a moment he had 
 forgotten himself and the world. 
 
 A tap at the door aroused him, and, in answer to 
 his bidding, there entered lame Chayim, the beadle 
 of the Beth-Din, the ecclesiastical Court. 
 
 Quickly Avrom went to meet him. " Peace with 
 you, Chayim," he said cordially, stretching out his 
 hand ; " you are the first person that has crossed 
 my threshold for three days. Can you tell me 
 what it means?" 
 
 "You are to be at the Court-house to-day at 
 noon, and then you will be told. Don't fail ; it is 
 the order of the Court." 
 
 And without a gesture or word of greeting 
 Chayim descended the ricketty staircase at, for 
 him, break-neck speed. 
 
 Avrom stepped to the window, and scanned the 
 blue immensity that stretched fathomless into the 
 distance. 
 
 "If that is the Court-house, what must the 
 Judge be like ? " he said softly. And then he seated 
 
THE CONQUEST OF AARON PLTTRiCK. j ^lo*'. 
 
 himself back in his chair, and his eyes ran rave- 
 nously over the open pages. 
 
 At stroke of noon Avrom was outside the Beth- 
 Din. The space in front was crowded with rnen 
 and women, and when they saw him coming- they 
 tried to give themselves an air of having been brought 
 to the spot by accident rather than forethought. 
 The schoolmaster passed through them in silence, 
 looking neither right nor left, to save them the 
 trouble of showing him discourtesy, and as he set 
 foot in the Court-room, where Rabbi Binnom and 
 his two assessors sat, his eyes met theirs un- 
 quailingly. 
 
 The Rabbi's voice broke the silence, " Avrom 
 Peltzer," he said, " men do not always know the 
 wolves in sheep's clothing, but God knows and 
 gives a sign to reveal them to our purblind eyes. 
 We have set you in responsibility over the lambs 
 of our flock, and you have undertaken the trust 
 knowing you were not worthy of it, and for that 
 you are here to be condemned." 
 
 Avrom stood up, and his head seemed touching 
 the roof, although there were fully ten inches 
 between the two. " Before one is condemned, one 
 is judged, and before one is judged, one is accused," 
 he said, without a quaver in his voice. 
 
 " Look into yourself and confess, and then you 
 will be spared the indignity of accusation and 
 judgment," said Rabbi Binnom. "No.-*" he went 
 on, as he saw Avrom shake his head in silence. 
 " Then listen. It has come to our knowledge that 
 you have desecrated the Sabbath ; you have been 
 guilty of that which entails the kindling of fire — 
 fire, which is the symbol of all manual labour. You 
 have smoked on the Sabbath." 
 
 An incredulous smile hovered over Avrom's lips. 
 " Smoked on the Sabbath ? " he echoed. " Why not 
 
JD2f;, \THE^. CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 
 
 say rather I have not observed the Fast on the Day 
 of Atonement ? " 
 
 " Bring in the witness," was the curt rejoinder. 
 
 The door at the upper end of the chamber opened, 
 and Aaron walked in with a firm step. Stonily he 
 returned Avrom's look of amazement and stood by 
 the table without a muscle of his face moving. 
 
 " Tell your story," said Rabbi Binnom. 
 
 " Last Sabbath, soon after the morning service, I 
 was walking in the forest," began Aaron, in the 
 manner of one reciting a lesson he had learnt by 
 heart, " and there I espied Avrom Peltzer reclining 
 under cover of the secondmost hillock from the 
 town side, and from his mouth I saw the vapours 
 of tobacco arising ; and then I quickly turned back 
 lest I should shame him with my presence, for I 
 have heard it said that it is a sin for a disciple to 
 bring the blood to his preceptor's cheeks. This I 
 have seen and bear witness to." 
 
 The eyes of the three judges were fixed on Avrom, 
 but Avrom was looking at Aaron with a glancethat 
 brimmed over with wondrous pity and compassion. 
 
 " Answer," came the summons from Rabbi 
 Binnom. 
 
 " Will you take evidence from the mouth of a 
 child ? " said Avrom. 
 
 " He is no child, he is Barmitzvah,"^ his testimony 
 is valid," said Rabbi Binnom severely. 
 
 " Aaron," said Avrom, stretching out his arms to 
 the boy, " we are to be a nation of priests ; do not 
 let there be falsehood amongst us." 
 
 " I have spoken the truth," replied Aaron dog^ 
 gedly. 
 
 Avrom stood silent and pondered, and with a 
 rush the whole horror of the thing flooded his brain. 
 The Satan of perverseness was in the boy's heart, 
 
 * Has attained his religious majority. 
 
THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 103 
 
 and held it captive ; and to that he was to be sacri- 
 ficed, to a childish whim, to a flimsy caprice — oh, 
 God, it was hard and terrible, and quickly Avrom 
 swallowed the sob he felt rising in his throat, lest it 
 should be taken for a wrong sign. So the threat 
 Aaron had uttered to his companions was no 
 bravado — it had been made in dire earnest, and 
 here and thus it was to be accomplished. There 
 was but one resource. 
 
 " I have studied the Book of Synhedrin," he said, 
 speaking in jerks, " and I know what I may de- 
 mand ; let him swear to what he says on the Scroll 
 of the Law." 
 
 Rabbi Binnom nodded, and in a trice lame 
 Chayim had taken the scroll from the Ark and 
 placed it on the table. 
 
 A hunted look came into Aaron's eyes ; he had 
 not reckoned on that. He could play with these 
 men — they were only human like himself; but this 
 was the incarnate word of God. The blood surged 
 to his head and made it tingle. What could he do ? 
 Draw back, and be disgraced for a liar and a 
 calumniator all the days of his life ? No, he would 
 go on with his grim jest, cost what it might, and the 
 anger in his heart swelled furiously against this 
 man, this Avrom Peltzer, whom four months ago 
 he had not set eyes on, and who now had placed him 
 in this terrible jeopardy. And Avrom, meantime, 
 stood watching him, with the firm hope that Aaron 
 would repent at the dread emergency, and already 
 he was in his mind forming the words with which 
 he was going to intercede for him and procure his 
 pardon, when he saw the boy slowly lift up his 
 hand, and with a throb of fear he asked quickly : 
 
 " Aaron, are you going to swear ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Aaron, with a reckless gleam in his 
 eyes. But just as his hand was about to alight on 
 
I04 THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 
 
 the scroll, Avrom snatched it off and cried brokenly: 
 " Hold, there is no need. I am guilty." 
 
 And after that the words of condemnation, bid- 
 ding him quit the town and never tread its streets 
 again, fell unheeded on his ears, and he made his 
 way out, groping in front of him, as if the daylight 
 had suddenly been blotted out. 
 
 Aaron was the hero of the hour, but the praise 
 and flattery that was heaped upon him made his 
 heart turn with a sickening sense of gall and bitter- 
 ness. And so at the first opportunity he hurried 
 away to hide himself in the solitude of the forest, 
 and there to commune with himself and make 
 straight one or two things which just then had to 
 his mind a queer and crooked aspect. And chiefly 
 he wanted to think over the strange incident that, 
 as far as he was concerned, had terminated the pro- 
 ceedings before the tribunal — Avrom's admission of 
 his guilt. Was there really some fact for his fic- 
 tion ? Had Avrom indeed sinned and had he him- 
 self been appointed the executor of God's justice ? 
 The doubt of it racked his head until it almost 
 drove him mad, and unless he found enlightenment 
 . . . . Ah, there he was ! He knew the tall 
 figure going along the country road, knew it, de- 
 spite the bowed head and bent shoulders ; in its 
 hand it was carrying a bundle, pitifully little and 
 spare ; surely it could only just contain his Taleth 
 and Tephilin* and a volume or two. An eager im- 
 pulse came into Aaron's heart. Unless he asked 
 now he would never be told, because, for certain, he 
 would never again set eyes on the man's face. 
 
 So he ran up to him quickly and called " Avrom 
 Peltzer ! " 
 
 Avrom stood still and looked at Aaron with a 
 smile that seemed all torn to tatters. 
 
 * Prayer- Shawl and Phylacteries. 
 
THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 105 
 
 " This Is good of you, Aaron ! " he said. " I sup- 
 pose you have come to say good-bye to me, and to 
 wish me ' God speed ' on my road ? I thank you." 
 
 " I have come to ask you," began Aaron, hurriedly, 
 and then his voice stuck in his throat. 
 
 " Well ? " said Avrom encouragingly. 
 
 " Ask you why — why you did not wait for me to 
 swear on the Scroll. Are you really guilty ? " 
 
 And then he cowered back, because Avrom's eyes 
 grew and grew, till they became as large as the 
 Synagogue gates, and in each seemed to stand an 
 angel with a flaming sword. But his voice sounded 
 like the trickling of balm on a gaping wound. 
 
 " Aaron," he said, " what are we in this world, 
 and what is the opinion of all men compared to 
 one little thought of God ? And I was afraid that, 
 when your day came, this one little thought might 
 be God's recollection of your aberration of soul ; 
 and, therefore, I was willing to let men think of me 
 as little as they might, rather than God should 
 think of you that one little thought too much. 
 Are you glad, little Aaron ? " 
 
 Aaron heard, and his heart heaved right into his 
 mouth, and with a choked wail he threw himself at 
 Avrom's feet. 
 
 " Come back with me ! " he gulped. " I shall tell 
 them all — everything ! Avrom, Avrom, come, oh, 
 come back with me ! " 
 
 Quietly Avrom stooped and lifted him up. 
 
 " No, Aaron," he answered, stroking Aaron's 
 matted hair ; " I am an exile on the face of the 
 earth, and therefore it is no matter to me when I 
 go or where I am, and here I cannot abide any 
 longer. But I have done more in my short stay 
 than I had hoped ; I have given one human soul 
 an understanding which shall never fail — what say 
 you, shall it?" 
 
io6 THE CONQUEST OF AARON PITTRICK. 
 
 Aaron shook his head. 
 
 " Good-bye, little brother," and as Avrom stooped 
 Aaron felt a burning impress on his forehead. Then 
 he stood alone. Long, long he watched the retreat- 
 ing figure until it disappeared where the sky came 
 down upon earth to meet it. 
 
 Five minutes afterwards Aaron met Itchkl and 
 Reuben. The two made a woe-begone face A'hen 
 they saw him. 
 
 " Why, you look as if you had been crying," said 
 Reuben. 
 
 " Something went in my eye," said Aaron. 
 
 " Well, then, I suppose it's our turn to cry," said 
 Itchki ; " you have won the bet, any way — how 
 many slaps was it we wagered — five, wasn't it, 
 Reuben ? " 
 
 Aaron kept silence for awhile and slowly lifted 
 his hand to his face where the warm pressure of 
 Avrom's lips was still abiding. 
 
 " He called me 'little brother,' " he said to him- 
 self, " and this was the seal of his brotherhood." 
 And then he smiled to himself at a sudden thought. 
 " It would please him, if he knew it," he murmured. 
 
 Quickly he turned to his companions. 
 
 " I am willing to forego the stakes on one condi- 
 tion," he said to them. 
 
 " What's that ? " cried both in a breath. 
 
 " A little thing — only that I may kiss you each 
 just once upon the forehead." 
 
Tomards the Sunrise. 
 
 AFTER bestowing both his parents in the 
 grave and his only sister in marriage, Judah 
 Engelsohn was free to do as he pleased. The rent 
 he derived from the dairy-farm he had inherited 
 from his father, late factor to Count Gribalski, the 
 great land-owner, provided him with comfortable, 
 if not over-affluent means of subsistence. And so 
 he said good-bye to the four-footed ruminators who, 
 together with their predecessors, had engorged 
 the first twenty-three years of his life, and came to 
 Warsaw. 
 
 There was a special reason why he chose the 
 Polish capital for his place of abode. Into his 
 boyhood's hermitage there had come from time to 
 time vague echoes, faint after-quivers of the great 
 upheaval that was stirring his people, dazed with 
 suffering, out of their millennial torpor. By-and-by 
 these rumours had changed into tidings of certainty. 
 His soul caught fire : he longed to be present at 
 the awakening, to add his shout to those that were 
 bidding the sleeper arise and array himself once 
 more in the glory of which he had been stripped 
 by the despoiling centuries. And Judah felt it 
 would be base and criminal to remain longer where 
 he was, thrust away out of sight of, out of touch 
 with his fellows in faith, in the solitude where one 
 remembered only by a miracle, or at best by an 
 
io8 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 accident, that one belonged to a great race and a 
 great destiny. 
 
 Judah had no acquaintances in Warsaw ; he 
 brought, however, a letter of introduction to Uriah 
 Vilenski, the doyen of the Jewish Students' 
 Association. On the second day after his arrival 
 Judah called on Vilenski. 
 
 " So you have come here because you want to 
 help Zion?" asked the latter, after the usual 
 preliminaries of identification, looking curiously at 
 his visitor. " What can you do t " 
 
 "I don't know yet," replied Judah. "How can 
 I tell when I am ignorant of what there remains 
 to be done ? " 
 
 " Everything," said Vilenski ; " we have got as 
 far as the beginning. We want men to help us 
 farther. I don't know, you might be one of them. 
 Have you learnt anything .? You speak Russian 
 remarkably well." 
 
 " The tutor of the young counts gave me three 
 hours a week,'' said Judah simply. " I can read 
 Cicero ; I have a fair knowledge of French and 
 German and a tolerable notion of the questions of 
 the day. These are my accomplishments. I have 
 but one natural talent — my love for Zion." 
 
 "That is always welcome, even reckoned as an 
 acquirement," broke in Vilenski. "And that is 
 where your work should lie. You should utilise 
 your talent and impart it to others." 
 
 Judah looked up quickly. " I do not ask for 
 anything better. I could not ask for anything 
 easier. Nothing could be easier in this great city 
 where every third man I meet is linked to me by 
 the memory of Jerusalem's ruins. I shall make 
 them listen to me. I shall go to them one after 
 another and say — " 
 
 " A sort of roving commission," interrupted 
 
TOWARDS THE SUN'RISE. 109 
 
 Vilenski smilingly." "No, friend, we are more 
 methodical than that. Listen, there are about a 
 dozen of us. We call ourselves the Kadima. We 
 have forsworn the seeking of wealth and earthly- 
 honours, and all who would be of us must do the 
 same. We are pledged to Zion body and soul. 
 While our pulses are capable of a throb, while our 
 minds can fashion a thought, we shall toil in her 
 service. She needs many such toilers, many such 
 servitors. I think you would be a valuable recruit ; 
 will you join us ? " 
 
 Judah gazed silently at the floor. "Kadima," he 
 said at last, half to himself, "that means eastward, 
 towards the Sunrise. Yes, that is whither we should 
 be tending — thither, where our new day is breaking, 
 where the shadows will be afraid to follow us. It 
 will be sweet to have a little sunshine again ; we 
 have shivered long enough with the cold. And 
 then you ask me if I would be one of those to lead 
 the way ? I beg it of you as a privilege. Eastward 
 — aye ever eastward ! " 
 
 And so it came that Judah joined the Kadima ; 
 but no, he did not — the Kadima joined him. He had 
 been a little unjust to his natal star in the enumera- 
 tion of his natural gifts. The discovery surprised 
 him as much as the others. At the first meeting 
 of the Kadima which he attended, he had risen to 
 his feet to offer some trivial suggestion. He had 
 thought that a few well-turned sentences would be 
 enough to give it expression, but a quarter of an 
 hour afterwards he was still standing up, still 
 speaking, for to save his life he could not check 
 the flood of eloquence that came surging up from 
 his heart's depths, taking to itself, with every seco.id 
 breath, fresh scope and volume, widening out into 
 majestic eddies of sweeping argument, and anon 
 contracting itself into whirlpools of passionate 
 
no TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 fervour. He was unconscious of his gape-mouthed 
 audience ; he was not addressing them ; he was 
 speaking to himself. These were the culminations 
 of his night vigils, the thoughts and feelings his 
 heart had accumulated these many years, cramping 
 them up, hoarding them jealously till there was no 
 more storage-room. And therefore he spoke, be- 
 cause his words were to him as the air of heaven 
 to a choking man. 
 
 When he sat down there was a momentous 
 silence, followed by a short whispered consultation 
 among the members, and presently Vilenski came 
 up to him. 
 
 " We cannot let you work with us," he said. 
 
 " Why — why not?" queried Judah, taken aback. 
 
 " You are too good for us — too strong for us, and 
 therefore if we are to act in concert, let us work 
 with you. You are a stranger in our midst — a 
 mere probationer ; and already you have shown 
 that you can do in minutes what we could not do 
 in years. We have men amongst us who have 
 given up the marrow of their youth, the sinews 
 of their manhood in our mission — none more so 
 than I. But we must stand aside. If this work is 
 to be achieved, the lesser of us must make way for 
 the greater ungrudgingly, without murmur or com- 
 plaint. Only the best shall hold command. Be 
 our general ; let us follow under your banner." 
 
 That was how the Kadima joined Judah. Nor 
 was it long before his fame had trickled out be- 
 yond its narrow confines. Whenever he was seen, 
 on the Nalevkas, in the street of the Franciscans, 
 or anywhere within the purlieus where the teeming 
 thousands of his co-religionists congregated, men 
 gazed and pointed after him : " There goes Judah 
 Engelsohn." And anyone who noted the massive 
 lion-like head with the broad thinker's forehead and 
 
TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. in 
 
 the fearless eyes — who watched the towering frame 
 striding erect and resolute through their midst as 
 though nothing could deflect it from its path or 
 purpose — added to himself: " Yes, I thought he 
 would look like that." 
 
 Some six months afterwards Judah had occasion 
 to call on Vilenski, to consult with him on business 
 connected with their Association. His friend was 
 out, but was expected back shortly. Judah decided 
 to await his return. Vilenski's room was on the 
 second floor, and overlooked the court formed by 
 the four blocks of buildings that flanked its sides. 
 Judah sat down by the window and gazed out 
 vacantly. The square was deserted ; the men — 
 artisans most of them — had gone to their work ; 
 the women were cooking; the children were in 
 school. Suddenly Judah heard the front-gate shut 
 with a clang, and a moment after Ivan, the red- 
 headed concierge, came staggering into the middle 
 of the court. Judah saw at a glance that the man 
 had drunk heavily, but he did not know what had 
 brought the cunning, murderous look into his eyes, 
 or what he concealed so sedulously under his jacket. 
 The fact was that this happened to be Ivan's saint's- 
 day, and, as usual, he observed it by drinking him- 
 self into delirium tremens. Now, even in his most 
 rational and charitable moments, Ivan could not 
 forgive his wife for not being someone else's wife ; 
 and when in his present condition, he always did 
 his best to rectify her mistake by making himself 
 a widower. He was sure she was in hiding some- 
 where about the adjoining premises, and now he 
 was standing sentry here, waiting for her to appear 
 down one of the staircases. The tenants were not 
 much concerned ; they knew that Ivan's wife had 
 gone to fetch the police, and that in five minutes 
 the danger would be over. 
 
112 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 Judah watched the man attentively ; there was 
 food for reflection in the spectacle. Whatever re- 
 proach their detractors might hurl against his 
 brothers, their malice could not go as far as this. 
 They could not taunt them with effacing from their 
 countenances, as this brute had done, the image of 
 the God who made them. There might be a few — 
 ah ! but it was these few that saved the many. 
 Judah bent forward : the drunkard was standing on 
 the alert — some one was descending. Yes, a young 
 girl stepped out, veiled and richly dressed ; evi- 
 dently she did not belong to any of the tenant 
 families. For a moment she stood wondering at 
 the strange sight that met her gaze. Ivan began 
 to stumble towards her ; he had heard the rustle of 
 skirts, and that was enough to convince him he 
 had his wife to deal with. Then, as the girl realised 
 her danger, she screamed and darted past him to 
 gain the gateway. A glance showed her it was 
 closed, and there would not be enough time to 
 undo the bars. She turned round, but by now the 
 ruffian had intercepted her way back into the court- 
 square. To the left of her was a little door. Judah 
 just gave himself time to see her disappear behind 
 it, when he rushed down, five steps at a time. 
 Ivan's hand had moved under his doublet and 
 there had been a glitter of steel. Judah knew that 
 the door led to a bricked-up flight of stairs, at the 
 top of which the girl would be caught in an im- 
 passe ; he himself had blundered into it at his first 
 visit. He reached it just as Ivan's foot was on the 
 threshold, hauled him back by the collar, jerked 
 the knife from his nerveless grasp, and sent him 
 spinning into a convenient puddle. It was all the 
 work of a moment. 
 
 "You can come down now," called Judah, "there 
 is no danger." 
 
TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. ii's 
 
 She appeared almost immediately ; her face 
 showed very white under her veil, but otherwise 
 her demeanour was calm. She cast a shuddering 
 glance at Ivan, who had sat up, propped on his 
 elbow and whimpering piteously. 
 
 " Thank you," she said, quietly, as she saw Judah 
 forcing back the heavy bolts of the gate ; and 
 Judah did not know whether she thanked him for 
 saving her life, or only for procuring her egress. 
 He took it to mean both. 
 
 " May I escort you home ? " he asked, diffidently. 
 " You are probably a little shaken by this un- 
 pleasant incident." 
 
 " Yes, do come," she said, cordially ; " my father 
 will naturally want to acknowledge his obligation 
 to you. He would scold me, did I not bring 
 you." 
 
 Judah hailed a fiacre, his companion gave an 
 address, and Judah wondered not a little as he 
 heard it. Indeed, he wondered so much that he 
 thought his ears had deceived him. It was a long 
 drive, and for the most part a silent one ; but Judah 
 found enough pastime in studying her face. It was 
 a pleasant study. And then he started wondering 
 afresh as the vehicle pulled up outside a huge man- 
 sion in the Praga suburb. He knew to whom it 
 belonged. So he had not made a mistake. It was, 
 indeed, the daughter of Heinrich Kronemann, the 
 great banker, the greatest Jew in Warsaw, whom 
 he had saved from a terrible fate ! 
 
 A minute or two after, he was sitting in a mag- 
 nificent saloon ; he waited a little, and then the 
 door opened for the banker and his daughter. 
 
 " So you are the hero," said the former, striving to 
 be jocular ; but the trembling in his voice and the 
 moisture in his eyes belied the attempt. " I have 
 many millions of roubles — I can't help people 
 
114 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 knowing the fact," he continued ; " but I have only 
 one child. How can I repay you ? " 
 
 " By saving me the trouble of answering you with 
 commonplaces," said Judah, grasping the banker's 
 proffered hand ; " one can appreciate gratitude 
 better when it is unspoken." 
 
 "There is something in that," replied the banker 
 thoughtfully ; " the best, then, I can do is to honour 
 your wish, Mr. " 
 
 " Engelsohn," expleted Judah. 
 
 " It would be easy to pun on the name under the 
 circumstances," said Kronemann. Then he turned 
 to his daughter, and his tone became more ani- 
 mated. "As usual, it is your fault that I find 
 myself in a predicament. I gave you strict orders 
 not to perform these incognito charitable exploits 
 of yours unaccompanied. I warned you you would 
 play the good Samaritan once too often, and come 
 to a bad end." 
 
 " Annette has a cold, and the people were 
 starving," answered the girl ; " besides " 
 
 " Yes, besides ? " 
 
 " One may be disobedient in a good cause." 
 
 " That sounds horribly Jesuitical, you little 
 rebel," said her father, tapping her cheek smilingly ; 
 " but my head is not fit just now for unmasking 
 the fallacy. I'll do something more simple : I 
 shall ask Mr. Engelsohn to stop to lunch." 
 
 Judah did not answer immediately. Something 
 told him not to accept — a sense of danger which 
 had already begun to possess him towards the end 
 of their drive, and which gained fuel at the 
 prospect of spending more time in the girl's im- 
 mediate presence. He felt ashamed of his appre- 
 hension — as much as if he had uttered it aloud ; 
 it was so puerile. And therefore, to spare his self- 
 respect, he translated it into the necessity of seeing 
 
TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 115 
 
 Vilenski. He told his would-be host that he had 
 an appointment. 
 
 " I am exceedingly sorry," said Kronemann, 
 heartily ; " but I hope you will give me another 
 opportunity of cultivating your acquaintance. 
 Bertha, will you, as hostess, ask Mr. Engelsohn to 
 call again ? " 
 
 " For her sins," smiled Judah. 
 
 But from the tone and manner of her invitation 
 it did not appear that Bertha regarded it in the 
 light of a penance. 
 
 " Would you please leave your card ? " she said, 
 shyly ; " you may want a reminder." 
 
 Judah handed it to her, feeling he had ceded a 
 bulwark of his safety. Once back in the street, 
 he drew a breath of relief Now that he was alone 
 with himself, he need not conceal what it was he 
 feared. He did not want to come under a woman's 
 spell — fall in love, as it was commonly called ; he 
 had heard that was the most terrible accident that 
 could happen to a man. To love Kronemann's 
 daughter? For Judah Engelsohn that would be 
 an irreparable disaster. He must keep mastery 
 over his emotions. He had his work to do — work 
 that should be done well. 
 
 Vilenski was awaiting him anxiously; he had 
 been given a confused account of what had 
 occurred. 
 
 " Do you know who she is ? " he asked, when he 
 had heard the true version. 
 
 " I will tell you on condition that no one else 
 knows," said Judah ; " Bertha Kronemann." 
 
 " What, the banker's daughter ? " 
 
 Judah nodded. 
 
 It took Vilenski a full minute to recover his 
 breath. " And you say that as quietly as if it were 
 the name of your washerwoman ? " he shouted. 
 
Il6 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 " Am I to go into hysterics ? " 
 
 " Why, man," continued Vilenski eagerly, " can't 
 you read the stars ? Don't you grasp the possi- 
 bilities ? You have free access to Heinrich Krone- 
 mann ; you have eloquence enough to talk a fossil 
 into life. If you can convert him to us, we can 
 boldly, safely, write ' Victory ' on our standard." 
 
 " I have thought of that myself," replied Judah a 
 little coldly ; " possibly I may make the attempt. 
 I really don't know whether I shall ever call there 
 again." 
 
 Vilenski stared at him stupefied ; but he asked 
 no questions. He had learnt to look on Judah as 
 an elemental mystery, and therefore took him for 
 granted. 
 
 Week succeeded week, and Judah made the best 
 of them. The Kronemann episode, as he called it 
 to himself, was fading from his mind beneath the 
 stress of work. Occasionally Bertha's face and 
 voice came to trouble him. For antidote he worked 
 harder. But at the end of a month arrived her 
 reminder — the reminder which he had not desired, 
 and which nevertheless gladdened him more than 
 he dared admit. The note ran as follows : 
 
 " You are not paying me a compliment. I have 
 not thanked you for your service. I intended, on 
 your own principle, evincing my gratitude in my 
 friendship. You evidently require neither. And 
 I grieve for it. Bertha Kronemann." 
 
 After that he went, although he guessed what it 
 would mean. He guessed right. He took away with 
 him from his visit the consciousness that he lay in 
 the balance ; a hair's weight might decide whether 
 henceforth he would belong to himself or to her. 
 And that made him struggle on a little longer ; 
 but only a little. The third time he left her a 
 vanquished man, but one who exulted in his down- 
 
TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 117 
 
 fall. It made him strong — even as the giant of old 
 rose reinforced by contact with his Mother Earth. 
 And that justified him in his own eyes. She did 
 not sap his energies ; she fed them till they over- 
 flowed with their exuberance. And because she 
 did that, she was a laudable necessity. But then 
 came a fear, a horrible fear that made him writhe. 
 This spell, this enchantment in which he revelled 
 was precarious ; it hung on a thread. Any day, 
 every day he might lose the right to come to her 
 for his inspiration ; and the rest would be aimless, 
 nameless agony — the slow-gnawing, relentless worm 
 that poisoned and cankered and killed. One even- 
 ing, as they were alone — she had been singing to 
 him — she noticed the ungovernable terror in his 
 eyes. She asked him what it meant. 
 
 " You ought to know," he said almost sullenly ; 
 " you put it there. One thing only can remove it." 
 
 " And that is .? " 
 
 For reply he gave her a look, but no, it was not 
 a look ; it was his soul pointing its finger straight 
 at her. 
 
 ** Myself?" she exclaimed, drooping her head. 
 
 "Yourself. Will you do it? You know how." 
 
 " You have a right to ask the question," she said 
 at last ; *' only it is not of me you should ask it — 
 of my father. And" — a flush crept over her at 
 the words — " ask him soon." 
 
 " To-morrow? " he ventured, scarcely articulating 
 the word. 
 
 She hurried shamefacedly to the door ; from 
 there she nodded assent. 
 
 A minute after he was out in the street, and the 
 dull thud of his footsteps was music in his ears. 
 Everything was music and light and gladness. 
 Perhaps it would be that only till to-morrow, but 
 while it lasted, he would quaff it to the dregs. 
 
Ii8 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 He had forgotten : to-morrow night had been 
 fixed for the great public meeting when the Kadima 
 would submit their programme of propaganda for 
 the first time to the mass of their co-religionists. 
 Judah, as the chief organiser, felt considerable 
 anxiety as to its success ; the blame of a fiasco 
 might fall on him. He was half sorry he had un- 
 dertaken his interview with Kronemann for the 
 following day ; but there was no help for it now. 
 Bertha might put a wrong construction on his 
 dilatoriness. And moreover, in the cool light of 
 reflection, it seemed more desirable to put his fate 
 to the hazard at the earliest. He shuddered : after 
 all it was a hazard, and he might lose. Yet there 
 was one comfort even in that ; if he lost now, there 
 would be nothing else the losing of which need 
 cost him a single pang. Perhaps that was true 
 happiness — to have suffered beyond the climax. 
 
 He had seen very little of the banker ; even 
 when he was in the house he showed himself but 
 rarely. And as Judah, the following afternoon, 
 knocked at the door of his study, he suddenly be- 
 came aware that Bertha's father was comparatively 
 a stranger to him, and that made his task more 
 difficult. But the banker's cheery manner re- 
 assured him. 
 
 " You are the very man I want to see," he said 
 as Judah entered ; " in fact, I was going to send 
 for you. Sit down." 
 
 The banker strode silently once or twice across 
 the room. Then he confronted Judah suddenly. 
 
 " I should like to ask a favour of you," he said 
 quite solemnly; " I want you to marry my daughter. 
 I am perfectly serious," he went on, noting the 
 young man's look of amazement. " I have even 
 gone so far as to first ascertain, very discreetly, her 
 feelings on the subject. And while you think over 
 
TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 119 
 
 my offer, I will give you one or two reasons which 
 prompted me to it. To begin then, I liked you 
 from the first, apart from the claim you had on 
 my goodwill. I liked your keeping aloof when 
 another man, relying on his merits, would have 
 battered my walls in. Bertha wrote you that letter 
 at my instigation. The thought of making you 
 her husband came to me the second time you 
 called ; otherwise I should hardly have thrown you 
 so much into each other's way. You think I know 
 nothing about you, that I am rash in trusting my 
 only child to a haphazard acquaintance. You arc 
 mistaken. A practised reader of character, as I 
 am, hardly needs more than a casual glance or two 
 to draw his conclusions. I inferred you possessed 
 common-sense, backbone, rectitude. That was all 
 I required. I have no sons to keep the house 
 from passing into strange hands after my death. 
 My name would be forgotten. I want you for my 
 successor. I want the firm of Kronemann and Co. 
 to rank with the first in the world. Call it vanity — 
 I desire to raise for myself a lasting monument. 
 Another point, a matter of superstition, perhaps. 
 My own good fortune was the outcome of accident. 
 I was lucky enough to do the founder of the house 
 almost as great a service as you have done me, 
 and married his daughter. I have prospered ; by 
 the same token I prognosticate you will succeed in 
 ratio to our beginnings. You see, I have been 
 candid." 
 
 " O God ! what am 1 to say ? " breathed Judah, 
 with beating heart. 
 
 The banker lifted his finger. " Wait, I have not 
 quite finished ; till then reserve your answer. It 
 has come to my ears that you arc one of the most 
 prominent champions of the so-called National 
 movement." 
 
I20 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 Judah rose eagerly, but the other waved him 
 down and continued : — 
 
 " In view of that I want you to give me a 
 guarantee — your word of honour will be sufficient — 
 that you will once for all sever your connection 
 with these hair-brained hobby-riders. The task 
 which I impose on you is too difficult to allow 
 any division of energy — too matter-of-fact to run 
 smoothly alongside of soap-bubble hallucinations 
 and day-dreamings. In short, I want to safeguard 
 it against any possible rival in your affections. 
 That is my only condition ; no doubt you will find 
 it easy." 
 
 " No, I do not find it easy," Judah burst out, 
 battling with his despair. " You have been very 
 cruel, Mr. Kronemann," he went on more gently ; 
 " you give me a glimpse into Paradise, and then 
 tell me that I can only gain entrance by leaving 
 behind the one thing I held dear on the hither 
 side. Or did you only want to see what a Tantalus 
 looked like ? " 
 
 " Yes, viewed from that point, it certainly seems 
 a little hard," reflected the banker ; " only it is the 
 wrong point. I respect your reluctance ; it is good 
 our ideals should die hard — it is what makes life 
 worth living. And therefore, when the time comes, 
 let us be practical." 
 
 " By all means, then, let us be practical," assented 
 Judah, with a sudden hope. " Tell me, Mr. Krone- 
 mann. have you given much thought to the 
 question of our national regeneration ? " 
 
 " Not much, I admit. I contented myself with 
 listening to its advocacy by others. And what did 
 I hear? Rodomontades in fustian that walked 
 about on stilts to make them look big. And 
 because they walked on stilts they were fairly easy 
 to trip up." 
 
TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 121 
 
 " Quite so," said Judah, his voice quavering ; " I 
 will not presume to put any new aspect of the case 
 before you. I have merely a burning desire to be 
 practical. I will tell you only what I can swear to. 
 I have seen Jewish porters at the railway stations 
 carrying three times their own weight of baggage; 
 I have seen hundreds of Jewish wood-fellers 
 cutting timber in the Lithuanian forests ; I have 
 seen droves of Jewish raftsmen on the Vistula, 
 working their way miles and miles against the 
 current ; and I have seen thousands of Jewish 
 field-labourers harnessing themselves to their 
 ploughs in place of the oxen they had sold to buy 
 seed. You would call these men of muscle, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Yes," conceded the banker, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Again, in the house in which I live there are four 
 students whose gymnasial reports show they were 
 always at the top of their class. There is a little 
 boy who can easily multiply rows of six figures in 
 his head. There is a young artisan who has made 
 the model of a steam crane without ever having 
 handled a book on mechanics. There is also a 
 hawker to whom six weeks ago I gave ten roubles 
 to set him up, and who has made them into a 
 hundred. All that would argue brains, I believe." 
 
 " I see your drift," said the banker. 
 
 " Please note that this is only the result of my 
 own limited observation. These people are not 
 exceptions, they are specimens. Here, then, you 
 have brain and muscle — some of the material 
 which goes to the making of a nation." 
 
 " Yes, some," emphasised the banker. 
 
 " The rest is merely a matter of organisation, of 
 arrangement," continued Judah. " We are sweep- 
 ing away internal misunderstandings and differ- 
 ences ; we are beginning to combine, to collaborate ; 
 
122 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 we are no longer limbs, we are a body. And then 
 there are the necessities of the case. These, of 
 course, are self-evident." 
 
 " No," exclaimed the banker, " I will grant you 
 everything but the necessities. This latter-day 
 exodus is not wanted. It is merely the desire to 
 repeat history. Our Jews here are perhaps a little 
 more ground under heel than the rest of the prole- 
 tariat. If so, it is the penalty they must pay for 
 being as yet only step-children of their country. 
 They must wait and work for their redemption as 
 their brothers have done elsewhere. Possibly," he 
 sank his voice and looked round cautiously, 
 " possibly they may not have long to wait. The 
 signs are in the sky ; the times are pregnant. 
 What births they will bring forth no one can tell. 
 Probably they will have a baptism of blood — some 
 Jewish blood amongst it. We may not live to see 
 it, but, sooner or later, deliverance will come — from 
 within. Till then, patience." 
 
 " Ah, patience ! patience ! " muttered Judah, 
 desolately ; " and in the meantime our mother's 
 heart is breaking to see her sons degraded into 
 cattle, her daughters haled by the hair along the 
 highways." 
 
 " There it is, the cloven hoof," said Kronemann 
 lightly, to loosen the tension that was becoming 
 awkward ; " the sentimentalist revelling in generali- 
 ties. Do you call that being practical ? The man 
 who talks like that is capable of writing his 
 business letters in rhyme." 
 
 Judah stood motionless, his face set and a 
 haggard wretchedness in his eyes. The banker 
 saw it and was touched. 
 
 " I won't press you for an immediate decision," 
 he said, his hand on Judah's shoulder. " I shall 
 give you — say, twenty- four hours. That is as 
 
TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 123 
 
 much as any man wants — I shall be candid again 
 — to reconcile himself to his good fortune. By 
 the way, you will find Bertha in the drawing-room; 
 she may help you to your determination." 
 
 Judah waited. " Is there no compromise 
 possible ? " he quavered. 
 
 " None ; there are two alternatives ; you will do 
 well to keep that in mind. It will save you from 
 complicating your methods of reasoning." 
 
 Gropingly Judah made his way up the escalier. 
 At the drawing-room door he stopped and listened. 
 She was playing the piece she knew to be his 
 favourite. A wild longing came over him ; if his 
 life went forfeit over it he must see her once 
 more. 
 
 She turned at the click of the handle and rose 
 quickly, but as she saw his face, she hung back 
 with her hand to her heart. 
 
 " You have asked father," she faltered at last ; 
 " he has refused and has sent you to me to say 
 good-bye." 
 
 " On the contrary," he replied voicelessly, " your 
 father was good enough to give me the chance of 
 refusal." 
 
 And then he told her quickly what had happened. 
 " You have small reason to be pleased with me/* 
 he ended up ; "I could win you by the stretching 
 out of my arm — and I hesitate because of an 
 hallucination, a day-dream, as your father calls it." 
 
 " That only shows your love is worth having," 
 she said almost inaudibly. 
 
 " Suppose, then, I persist in this day-dream ? " 
 
 "Judah, you will not persist? Oh, say you 
 will not." 
 
 He turned from her with a dumb gesture of 
 despair. She came close to him. 
 
 " Listen, Judah," she whispered ; " I do not call 
 
124 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 it a shadow, an illusion. To me it is a great, 
 grand reality. Many a time the thought of it has 
 set my nerves tingling ; many a time I have said, 
 * Oh, that I could help.' Look, I am turning 
 traitress against my own father. Make con- 
 cessions to his caprice — if only in appearance. 
 Later on, when the irrevocable has happened, you 
 will always find ways and means to be of service 
 to the cause, indirectly " 
 
 He shook his head wearily. " I am to give my 
 word — you have forgotten that." And then he 
 flamed up. " You have made one suggestion, I 
 shall make a second. If my love is worth having, 
 then follow your heart's bidding and none other. 
 You said yourself one may be disobedient in a 
 good cause ; now prove it. You can help the good 
 cause by helping me. Without you I am useless, 
 an empty husk ; with you I could achieve miracles 
 And I promise you, the honour of it shall be yours 
 and yours only. It is in your hands to raise your 
 father a monument a thousand times more durable 
 than the one he dreams of himself. Bertha, I 
 repeat, it is in your hands ! " 
 
 She listened to him patiently, but her voice was 
 very sad as she replied : " I have deserved this — I 
 must not complain. I counselled treachery — you 
 counsel open revolt. A i^w words will answer 
 you : I dare not — for the life of my father — I dare 
 not. A year ago he broke a blood-vessel. Any 
 sudden shock, and I tremble for the consequences. 
 Do you want it to be on my conscience " 
 
 She broke off and buried her face in her 
 hands. 
 
 " Then nothing remains," he said hollowly. 
 
 "Yes, twenty-four hours of reflection remain," 
 came from her quickly. 
 
 " Twenty-four hours of torture," he echoed ; 
 
TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 125 
 
 " would to God I had them behind me — whichever 
 of my two loves they will bury." 
 "Judah!" 
 
 He saw the passionately uplifted hands and 
 went out. The gesture haunted him. Again and 
 again he tried to put it from him. He wanted his 
 mind clear, crystal clear. He had to think — think, 
 when his thoughts were so many snowflakes 
 whirling wildly in the hurricane of his emotions. 
 No, he would let it be for the present. Later on 
 it would come to him of its own accord, without 
 racking, without writhing. This was a useless riot 
 of pain ; he must be calm or he would die. 
 
 Colourlessly the hours dragged by till it was 
 
 seven o'clock. Mechanically he made his way to 
 
 the hall where the meeting was to take place. 
 
 Viltnski looked at his white, wan face, and 
 
 asked : 
 
 " What, you Judah ? Lamp-fever ? Stage-fright ? 
 What are we others to say then ? " 
 
 Judah made a great effort and parried the 
 enquiry. No prying, no questioning, or he must 
 strangle something — himself by preference. As 
 in a dream he watched the huge hall filling 
 steadily. He felt the great subtle waves of 
 excitement undulating through the assembly, at 
 first only distantly, but presently they came 
 nearer ; the first thrill touched his soul, pain- 
 numbing, healing, life-giving. He began to hope 
 again ; yes, his decision would come lo him in a 
 flash, without a throe. And once he had it in his 
 grasp it might k'ili him, but he would not let it go. 
 Better a hell of certainty than an ecstasy of 
 doubt. 
 
 The greatest Jewish scholar in Warsaw occupied 
 the chair. One by one the speakers rose, gripped 
 the ear of the audience, and sent their message, 
 
126 TOWARDS THE SU/^RISE. 
 
 blood-warm, down to their hearts. The waves of 
 excitement waxed into billows of enthusiasm. 
 Judah's speech had been left to the last ; it was to 
 be the climax, the coping-stone on the fabric that 
 was to be reared that night. 
 
 A hush, throbbing with the pulse of its own still- 
 ness, held the gathering as he came forward. Every 
 ear, every eye strained, lest a word, a movement of 
 face or hand should escape it. Judah felt the 
 magnetic silence that argued his power ; but he 
 himself was dissatisfied ; he was wasting breath. 
 This was not what he meant. He was not striving 
 to convince them, he wanted to carry conviction to 
 his own heart. And in that he had failed so far. 
 His utterances seemed to him idle antics of sound. 
 But at last he struck the right note. He touched 
 on the joy of self-surrender, that made a sacrifice 
 of its bleeding heart, and looked on smilingly, as 
 on a thank-offering; that gave up life and love 
 because that was the most one can g\vQ up, and 
 because the best could be fed and fostered only with 
 what was best. His hearers grew frightened, for 
 this was the first time they had seen a human soul 
 stand before them in its white-gleaming nakedness. 
 Judah had conquered, and so he could sing his song 
 of self-victory. 
 
 " The land of Kedem is trembling with joy to 
 its inmost caverns," rose his paean ; " its soil is 
 quickening with prophetic gladness, and mightily is 
 Jordan rearing his waters to pour teeming fruitful- 
 ness into her bosom ; for that the songs of the Lord 
 .shall once more re-echo on his banks, and that the 
 singers' voices might not grow faint for hunger. 
 There is a rustling in the cedars of Lebanon, that 
 have been as cypresses in their desolation ; their 
 branches are whispering one to the other : * Be joy- 
 ful ; the wanderer is returning home, the outcast is 
 
TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 127 
 
 coming into his own again.' And in his rock- 
 dvveUing, Father Abraham is Hstening night and 
 day, that he might be the first to catch the myriad 
 footfalls of his sons, marching eastward. Aye, 
 brothers, up and towards the Sunrise ! " 
 
 Judah stopped, but the vibrating hush continued 
 long after the last word had left his lips. Then 
 came the first ripple of applause, that heralded the 
 coming cataract. Already it had gathered itself 
 into moderate fulness ; already it had started 
 reverberating — but instead of the cataract, it 
 suddenly oozed out into a dull, sullen buzz of 
 consternation. 
 
 " Dead, dead," people were murmuring, " Heinrich 
 Kronemann is dead." 
 
 Judah caught the words, not once, but a dozen 
 times, as he forced his way out through the way- 
 giving throng. In a quarter-of-an-hour he had 
 reached the mansion. A few gaping quidnuncs 
 were hovering round. Judah stopped one of the 
 footmen, who had just come back from an errand. 
 Yes, it was true. A telegram had brought bad 
 news that evening, and the master had had a stroke. 
 Slowly, very slowly, Judah walked back to his 
 lodgings. He was wondering whether it would be 
 counted against him on Judgment Day that he was 
 glad he needed not give an answer to-morrow. To 
 Beriha he wrote: "I shall come when you want 
 me." 
 
 It was a month after that she wanted him. They 
 were standing together at the window, peering into 
 the twilight. 
 
 " I had no compunction in renewing my suit," 
 said Judah tenderly ; " it was not inciting you to 
 revolt. Your father's project, even had he lived, has 
 become an impossibility. The government mono- 
 poly, that wrecked his investments and broke his 
 
128 TOWARDS THE SUNRISE. 
 
 l^eart, took good care of that. You are not going 
 counter to his will." 
 
 " Do you know, Judah," she said solemnly, " I 
 sometimes am afraid his death was God's visitation 
 on his purblindness." 
 
 "Afraid? You should exult — exult that his 
 death has not been useless, if it only strengthens 
 our belief in the providence that watches our destiny. 
 You can say then, he died for our cause. He shall 
 have his monument. His memory shall go with us 
 as we struggle towards the Sunrise." 
 
On the Hoad to Zion 
 
 (Another view of the foregoing, ) 
 
 LEIB, Hirsh, and Wolf were loitering at the 
 street corner, with a vague and purposeless 
 air about them. This was chiefly noticeable by the 
 resolute manner in which they kept their hands 
 inside their trousers pockets, having, apparently, no 
 other use for them. 
 
 " What's the good of having a holiday when you 
 don't know what to do with it ? " grumbled Hirsh. 
 
 The other two answered the question, or, rather, 
 echoed it by their silence. It was indeed a piti- 
 able state of things. Here were three healthy 
 youngsters, totalling as much as thirty years 
 between them ; a clear sky with plenty of sun 
 — the season was late summer — a whole day of 
 perfect, wholesale irresponsibility — in fact, all the 
 ingredients for Paradisiacal bliss without a sauce- 
 pan to cook them in. 
 
 •' Let's go and tie the ropemaker's flax into 
 knots," suggested Leib. 
 
 " We only did that last week," replied Hirsh, with 
 withering scorn at Leib's want of originality. 
 
 " Each time the man passes me he looks murder," 
 attested Wolf. 
 
 " Suppose we find a dead cat and fling it on 
 old Chava's vegetable stall," continued Leib, un- 
 abashed. 
 
 "You'll do nothing of the sort," said Wolf 
 warmly ; " we've got potatoes for dinner to-day, 
 and I don't know if mother has bought hers." 
 
I30 ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 
 
 " Torba, the butcher's wife, has hung out her 
 washing," Leib went on to remark dreamily, leaving 
 the others to gauge the scope of the possibilities 
 connected with the event. 
 
 " Yes, but when she does, that bull-dog of hers 
 walks about loose — ever since that time," Hirsh 
 reminded him, the reminder opening up a black 
 vista of iniquity. 
 
 Leib shrugged his shoulders and sighed. That 
 sigh was his lament over the finality of earthly 
 things. A pathetic silence followed his heroic 
 attempts to infuse interest into their dreary 
 existence. Then he stamped his foot, and shouted 
 fiercely at Wolf : — 
 
 '' Where's that rascal of a Noah ? You must 
 know — you live in the same house. If we only had 
 him. . 
 
 " I've already told you I don't know," inter- 
 rupted Wolf, unconcernedly ; " since last night he's 
 invisible." 
 
 " Not as far as I can see," put in Hirsh, shading 
 his eyes and peering ahead ; " why, here he comes." 
 
 " Where ? " cried the other two in a breath. As 
 a rule, Noah's arrival on the scene — any scene — 
 was heralded by a ringing whoop. This time 
 there was no whoop, and that rather staggered 
 them. 
 
 " To be sure, there he is," they were compelled to 
 admit the next instant, despite the absence of the 
 customary evidence. 
 
 " He's got cramp in his legs, he walks so slowly," 
 observed Hirsh solemnly. 
 
 " If he has, it isn't from tight boots," remarked 
 Wolf, with a covert allusion to Noah's bare feet. 
 Any other time he would have raised a laugh, but 
 there was something portentous in the funereal pace 
 at which Noah was locomoting himself 
 
ON THE ROAD TO ZION, 131 
 
 " Bless me, he's turning the other way ! " cried 
 Leib in amazement ; " what's happened to him ? " 
 
 And then he lifted up a stentorian voice, and 
 called him loudly by name. Noah evidently heard 
 him, for in response he shook his drooping head, 
 and continued the sorrowful tenor of his way. 
 The trio became thoroughly alarmed ; the mystery 
 of Noah's demeanour had its terrors. In a 
 moment they had scampered to his side ; but 
 Noah waved them off with a gesture of unspeak- 
 able grief. 
 
 "Anything wrong at home?" asked Leib 
 hurriedly. 
 
 " Worse," breathed Noah. 
 " Tell us," came in unison. 
 
 " Not here," said Noah wearily ; " somewhere 
 where we shall be all alone." 
 
 That was easy enough ; if their little native place 
 was rich in anything it was in uninhabited environ- 
 ment, amidst which it lay — a dot in the infinite. 
 
 " This will do," said Leib, making halt at a dis- 
 used barn. 
 
 Noah acquiesced, and somewhat ostentatiously 
 brushing away an imaginary tear, he began : — 
 
 " I am disgraced for life. Last night — you know 
 what happened last night ? " 
 
 The trio looked conscious ; they, as well as a 
 certain pear-tree, could have told what happened 
 for one thing. 
 
 " Last night," recommenced Noah, intently 
 studying the shrunken grass at his feet, *'was a 
 meeting of the Brothers of Zion. All the grown-up 
 people went to hear that wonderful Maggid* that's 
 been all over the world, trying to preach us Jews 
 back into Jerusalem. So I just slipped in as well, 
 to see if he was really worth the fuss they are all 
 
 * Itinerant preacher. 
 K 2 
 
132 ON THE ROAD TO ZION, 
 
 making about him. Well, I can only tell you he 
 is. The way he kept twisting up his face — each 
 time differently — and rolled his eyes, and swung 
 his arms round, jabbering all the time, was a thing 
 I wouldn't have missed for a pot of beet-root soup." 
 
 And Noah drew a long breath, and sat lost in 
 the reminiscence of the spectacle. 
 
 " Well ? " urged his hearers impatiently. They 
 were getting sorry they had not been there as well, 
 despite the successfully exploited pear-tree. 
 
 Noah pulled himself up as though dragged back 
 into a horrible reality. 
 
 " Yes, I enjoyed myself while that Maggid 
 lasted," he continued ; " I didn't feel a bit inclined 
 to make a move, even if we hadn't all been jammed 
 in as tight as raisins in the straining-cloth. But 
 after him, Simcha, the cobbler, got up, and talked 
 at us through his nose, and that made me fidgety. 
 I shifted a leg — just so much — and at once one of 
 the men in my neighbourhood turned round and 
 said if I kicked him again 1 should not live to be 
 Bannitzvah. And presently another of them said 
 that if I went on digging my elbow into his ribs I 
 should fit a small coffin. So all I could do was to 
 sit there wagging my head ; and suddenly — upon 
 my word, I couldn't help it — Satan came and 
 jogged my voice, and out I burst with a 'kickerikee' 
 that went bang, right through the place. Well, 
 then you should have seen the hoUabaloo. Shmaya, 
 the beadle, bustled up, took me by the scruff, and 
 pommelled me out of the hall, saying that if I was 
 a cock-a-doodle-do he would use me as a ransom- 
 offering for the Eve of Atonement." 
 
 " Yes, that's very sad, I'm sure," commented 
 Wolf, with the suspicion of a smile ; he was glad 
 that, after all, the pear-tree had been the best 
 policy ; " but there's no reason to be so disheartened 
 
ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 133 
 
 about it — don't you think so ? " he appealed to the 
 others. 
 
 " Not by any -means," assented Leib ; "you get 
 even with Shmaya as soon as you can, and there 
 the matter ends." 
 
 " That's your idea of it," replied Noah disconso- 
 lately ; " you think it's nothing to be called a woe 
 and a disgrace to Israel, to be cuffed and 
 pommelled in sight of the whole town, like a — like 
 a " 
 
 The power of comparison failed him for the 
 moment, and no one thought of helping him out. 
 " I shall never be able to lift my eyes up again," he 
 concluded dismally. 
 
 The others sat quiet, awed into silence by this 
 exhibition of moral sensitiveness of which they had 
 never considered Noah capable, 
 
 '' Well, what can you do ? " asked Wolf at length. 
 
 " I was just making up my mind when you dis- 
 turbed me. At first I thought of slaughtering all 
 the people in the place, but that wouldn't do, would 
 it?" 
 
 His hearers agreed that it was too radical a 
 measure, and that its possibility was doubtful. 
 
 " Then I had another plan, but " 
 
 " Speak out," said Hirsh, encouragingly. 
 
 " But you must promise to help me. I might do 
 it alone, only I'm not selfish. I want you all to 
 have some of the glory." 
 
 "Glory?" echoed Leib suspiciously, "are you 
 sure it won't be something else ? " 
 
 " If you're frightened, of course " and Noah 
 
 stopped eloquently short. 
 
 Leib took the aspersion on his courage with philo- 
 sophic calm. 
 
 ** ' Buy the cat in the bag and you'll find it's 
 blind,' " he quoted ; " any way, let's hear." 
 
134 ON THE ROAD TO ZION, 
 
 With conspirator-like caution Noah looked round 
 him. He knew there could be no eavesdroppers, 
 but he did it for effect, and succeeded. Their 
 curiosity redoubled. 
 
 " I got the idea of it from what the Maggid said 
 last night," he confided to them in a whisper ; " he 
 said this wasn't our proper home, and that we had 
 no business to live anywhere but in Jerusalem." 
 
 " Well, then, why don't we ? " interrupted Hirsh. 
 
 " Because we can't get in, that's why. There are 
 some people there that believe in the moon and 
 don't keep Passover; they've made themselves quite 
 at home in the place, and if they let one or two of 
 us in, they think they're doing us a great favour. 
 And so we've got to stick here and give money 
 to the burgomaster not to let the Christians smash 
 our windows." 
 
 "That's certainly most unfair," observed Wolf ; 
 " but where's that glory you were talking about ? " 
 
 Noah put on his most impressive manner. 
 " That's coming. Look here. It's all very well for 
 the Maggid to go on spouting by the hour, but 
 what's the good of it ? It's only wasting time— the 
 moon-people can't hear him, and so they don't know 
 what we want. Suppose we let him go on spouting 
 and calling them names, while we, the four of us, 
 take a little walk over to them, and — are you 
 frightened, Leib ? " 
 
 " Go on," said Leib, his ears quick-set. 
 
 " And say to them : ' You're a pack of thieves- 
 just clear out of here ; this place belongs to us, and 
 we're going to have it. If not we'll send you Moses, 
 and he'll make it lively for you with plagues.' Or, 
 perhaps, we might talk to them more politely — 
 something like this : ' Would you mind kindly 
 moving to another country — because our parents 
 want to come back here — they aren't at all com- 
 
ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 131; 
 
 fortable where they are, and they would be much 
 obliged to you for it. You can take your moon 
 away with you — we've got one of our own.' Well, 
 Leib, what do you think of it } " 
 
 " But the glory ? " insisted Wolf. 
 
 "Don't you see, you blockhead.?" resumed Noah. 
 " Of course they'll say Yes, and then we'll come 
 back and tell our people : ' It's all right about 
 Jerusalem — we've got it. Pack up your bundles 
 and say good-bye to the burgomaster. He'll be 
 sorry to see you go ; he won't have anybody to 
 give him roubles now. And then, you see, we'll 
 all be petted and stuffed with honey-cake — ^just as 
 the Maggid is now — and when we grow up they'll 
 make us wardens of the Synagogue. Only you 
 mustn't forget to let everybody know that it was 
 my idea — ^just to show them I can do something 
 more than cry ' kickerikee.' " 
 
 The trio looked at Noah, and then turned their 
 glances on one another. 
 
 ** There's something in it," said Leib, tentatively. 
 
 " Something ? " iterated Noah, scornfully. 
 
 " Well, something^' said Leib, with more emphasis. 
 
 " If it comes off it might be a good thing for all 
 of us," was Hirsh's opinion. 
 
 " At any rate, it would give us something to do 
 for the day," put in Wolf 
 
 The last remark carried great weight. It almost 
 convinced Leib. 
 
 " How far is it to Jerusalem ? " he asked. 
 
 " Is that you, Leib } " said Noah, with affected 
 surprise. " I shouldn't have thought it, not for a 
 moment. A proper man like you does things first 
 and asks questions afterwards. However," he con- 
 descended to inform the inquirer, " it can't be so 
 very far, because, when you' stand on the hill and 
 look straight in front, you can see where the world 
 
136 ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 
 
 comes to an end and the sky begins. I should 
 think we could be there and back by bedtime." 
 
 " It's a good idea, distinctly," Leib now stated 
 with great positiveness. The subtle flattery of 
 being called a proper man had wormed its way 
 deep into his soul. 
 
 " What do you say ? " asked Noah, of the two 
 others. 
 
 "We might have a try," replied Hirsh, thought- 
 fully. 
 
 '* But what about dinner ? " interposed Wolf. 
 
 Even Noah, in his idealist mood, was bound to 
 concede the practical nature of the question. 
 
 " Oh, we'll wait for it — plenty of time to start 
 afterwards. Only you mustn't say anything at 
 home ; it would come nicer as a surprise. And 
 don't let us wait for each other ; let's walk back 
 here singly ; people might suspect something if 
 they saw us march out in a body." 
 
 His enthusiasm had magnified the outward as- 
 pect of the skimpy little band into that of a 
 devastating army. 
 
 Then they returned home, and drove their respec- 
 tive mothers frantic with clamourings for the accele- 
 rated appearance of the midday meal. When they 
 regathered at their place of assignment, Leib 
 had girded himself with a tin sabre, Wolf bore in 
 his hand a trumpet which blew two distinct 
 and separate notes, and Hirsh was found to be 
 possessed of eleven copecks, which discovery was 
 hailed with universal acclamation. Only Noah 
 appeared unaugmented, and consequently thought 
 it incumbent on him to extenuate the fact. 
 
 " You see, I've brought my mouth with me," he 
 said, " because I shall have to do the talking when 
 we get there." 
 
 The others generously refrained from pointing out 
 
ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 137 
 
 that he was makincr a virtue of a necessity, and im- 
 mediately formed themselves into a council of war. 
 
 " I suppose I am going to be captain," said Hirsh, 
 without preliminary. 
 
 "You — why?" came indignantly from Leib and 
 Wolf 
 
 " Because I've got the money to pay the travel- 
 ling expenses." 
 
 " That's not what makes people captains," said 
 Leib, loftily ; " it's this." 
 
 He drew his sabre from its sheath, and brandished 
 it vehemently. 
 
 " What's that good for ? " cried both Wolf and 
 Hirsh. 
 
 " To frighten the moon people if they should 
 take it into their heads to say ' No,' " was the 
 ready answer. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! you've got to get at them first ; and 
 that's where I come in," jeered Wolf 
 
 " How — with that rotten trumpet of yours ? " 
 screamed Hirsh and Leib, one after the other. 
 
 " Certainly. Suppose the place is locked up ? 
 Who's going to blow down the walls as they did 
 at Jericho ? " 
 
 Noah had held aloof from the altercation, partly 
 from chagrin at the rank ingratitude which so cal- 
 lously ignored his own overwhelming claims, and 
 partly from fore-knowledge how the squabbling 
 would end, namely, by leaving things as they were. 
 
 " Suppose we're all captains ? " he remarked 
 quietly. 
 
 The others looked stupefied. Why hadn't they 
 thought of that before ? Yes, Noah was a great 
 man — only they didn't tell him so, for fear he 
 should get too conceited. 
 
 " All right, let's get on," said Leib, sheathing his 
 sword and striding on resolutely. Thus the four 
 
138 ^ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 
 
 mighty adventurers started on their mission of 
 conquest. They felt brisk and buoyant ; the con- 
 sciousness of their high purpose annihilated all 
 possibility of failure. The sun, too, was in very 
 good form that day and made itself agreeable with- 
 out becoming a nuisance ; apparently it had also 
 just had a good dinner. 
 
 They kept to the high road, and had been walk- 
 ing a quarter of an hour when they met a pedlar. 
 The latter, suspecting them to be the offspring of 
 potential customers, thought it policy to be polite 
 to them. 
 
 " Good morning, young gentlemen," he sang out. 
 
 " Is this right for Jerusalem ? " asked Noah, by 
 way of reply. 
 
 The pedlar was hot and hungry, and the thought 
 that they were trifling with him made him vindictive. 
 
 " Impudent little rogues," he muttered, and then 
 he added aloud : " Yes, quite right ; keep straight 
 ahead, as far as ever you can go." 
 
 " I told you so," said Noah triumphantly to his 
 comrades. 
 
 "If it is the right road then we may as well walk 
 faster ; the days aren't so long now, you know," 
 observed Wolf. 
 
 " Never mind, there's sure to be a moon to-night," 
 said Noah reassuringly, " and if there isn't we'll 
 borrow one from the moon-people to use for a 
 lantern." 
 
 " Are they very tall — these robbers ? " asked Leib. 
 
 " Not taller than we ; when they stand up their 
 legs reach down to the ground, and ours do the 
 same," replied Noah speciously. 
 
 " But suppose they don't understand our lan- 
 guage," continued Leib. 
 
 " Then you must make your sabre talk to them," 
 said Noah, a littie maliciously. 
 
ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 139 
 
 Leib did not remonstrate, but began to entertain 
 some doubts whether he had been altogether wise 
 in giving such prominence to his possession of the 
 weapon. 
 
 On and on they went, with short intervals of rest, 
 through the declining afternoon. Several vehicles 
 laden with garden produce, on the way to next 
 day's market, passed them, and a general feeling 
 gained ground that Hirsh ought to justify his boast 
 of financing the enterprise. Just then a waggon- 
 load of luscious plums came lumbering on. Noah 
 was spokesman : " I say, Hirsh, this will be the 
 last of them." 
 
 " Last of what ? " 
 
 " Of the fruit waggoners. If you don't buy of 
 him we may not get another chance." 
 
 The cart had come abreast of them, and Hirsh 
 felt that unless he seized the opportunity he might 
 forfeit a good deal of his popularity. 
 
 " How much will you give us for eleven co- 
 pecks ? " he accosted the driver. 
 
 " Eleven copecks ? " said the man. " Oh, a whole 
 orchard. Let's have the money." He pulled up 
 and reaching down grabbed the coins Hirsh im- 
 prudently held out to him. Then he dived, 
 chuckling, under his box, and pulled out a greasy 
 little paper bag, which he threw to Hirsh. 
 
 " These are only stones — I want plums," said the 
 latter indignantly. 
 
 " Quite so — if you plant them you'll have a whole 
 orchard in time, as I said." 
 
 " But " began Hirsh again. 
 
 " Now, that's enough — skip," said the man, and 
 raised his whip threateningly. 
 
 Chafing and chop-fallen, Hirsh skulked back to 
 the others. They had witnessed the whole trans- 
 action, and therefore it was unnecessary for him to 
 
140 ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 
 
 go into the humiliating details. But if he expected 
 sympathy he was disappointed. From their cold 
 looks and freezing disdain he could gather that 
 their opinion of his business capacities and know- 
 ledge of human nature had sunk below zero. 
 
 It was on Leib that the unfortunate episode fell 
 most heavily. He had eaten herring at dinner, 
 and was becoming reminded of the fact by an ever- 
 increasing thirst. Greedily his eyes travelled to 
 the right and left of him on the chance of lighting 
 upon some opportunity of quenching it. 
 
 " Look, what's that ? " he asked suddenly, point- 
 ing to a little rivulet, the waters of which were 
 tinged dirty white from the clay stratum of its bed. 
 
 Noah went close up to it. Presently he gave a 
 great cry. " As I live, we're getting there," he 
 gasped. 
 
 " Where ? " asked the others. 
 
 " To the Holy Land. Does not the Bible say it's 
 a land flowing with milk and honey ? And here is 
 the milk. Taste it, Leib." 
 
 Leib's thirst, together with the clay, gave colour 
 to the theory. Without another thought he threw 
 himself flat, and shutting his eyes took a good 
 deep draught of the fluid, and before he had time 
 to realise its untasty quality, a mouthful of it had 
 found its way into his interior. He scrambled up 
 hastily. 
 
 " Isn't it milk } " asked Noah, anxiously. 
 
 "Yes, it's milk, milk of a kind — I mean very 
 ^ood milk ; won't any of you try a drop?" 
 
 But the others had seen the wry mouth he had 
 made, and preferred to take his word in guarantee 
 of its excellence. 
 
 The quartet of patriots marched on, a good deal 
 less sanguine and jaunty than they had appeared at 
 the start. A slight tension also began to manifest 
 
ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 141 
 
 itself in their attitude towards one another. Talk 
 was scarce and chiefly monosyllabic. It was Hirsh 
 who all at once made up for the long silence by a 
 tremendous howl. The others turned on him with 
 startled faces. 
 
 " Oh, I'm killed," wailed Hirsh, his hand to his 
 nose ; " I'm stung to death." 
 
 " Stung, did you say t " asked Noah, eagerly. 
 
 " Yes, a big big bee," said Hirsh, toning his voice 
 down to a whimper. 
 
 A transfigured look came over Noah's face. 
 " Aren't you convinced now ? " he cried, exultantly. 
 " Don't you see we must be near our destination? 
 Where there arc bees there is honey. I wasn't 
 quite sure when Leib found the milk, but here is 
 the honey too. Come on, we shall soon be there." 
 
 His enthusiasm did a good deal towards gal- 
 vanising their drooping spirits back into life. But 
 only for a little time, for by now the sun had got 
 down to the uttermost rim of the sky ; their shadows 
 became grotesquely long and their faces followed 
 suit. They were all weary and footsore, and more 
 and more frequently misgivings as to the outcome 
 of their errand flitted through their minds. But 
 Noah held them on to it sturdily. He had not lost 
 hope ; the horizon was becoming swallowed up by 
 the outer edge of the darkness, and that made it 
 appear less and less distant. Jerusalem must be 
 quite near now ; it surely could not be situated on 
 the very brink of the world, or else it would have 
 toppled over long ago. Ah, there was the moon 
 too — ^just a bit of it — and further on 
 
 Noah uttered a shout of triumph. Right across 
 their path lay a vast stretch of masonry in the shape 
 of high bleak walls relieved only by a number of 
 little windows near the top. He did not know that 
 these were the huge granaries of Rostock, which 
 
142 ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 
 
 supply all that part of the world with wheat ; to 
 him they were the battlements of Jerusalem, the 
 City of ^Promise. 
 
 They had come quite close and looked with 
 beating hearts. There were no gates, because the 
 approaches were all on the other side. Then, after 
 a little pause, Noah whispered to Wolf: 
 
 " Now out with your trumpet, and blow as they 
 blew at Jericho." 
 
 Wolf tried hard to beat down the sinful pride 
 that throbbed through his bosom at the words. So, 
 after all, he was the greatest of them ; it was he 
 who was going to gain his nation entrance into 
 their heritage. He raised the trumpet to his lips ; 
 at first his wind refused him service, but then he 
 made a great effort, and out came a squeaky dis- 
 cordant noise that made them all shiver. But it 
 did not make the walls shiver; they stood firm, 
 uncompromisingly firm. The second blast, how- 
 ever, issued a little more like what a healthy blast 
 should be, and Wolf was just in the middle of the 
 third, a glorious success. Noah could have sworn 
 he saw the brickwork near one of the windows 
 tottering, when suddenly something that looked 
 like a child's head came hurtling through the air, 
 struck Wolfs trumpet, and drove it halfway into 
 his gullet. Simultaneously came a voice growling 
 in very plain Russian : 
 
 " What do you mean, you ragamuffins, by start- 
 ling an honest, hardworked man out of his sleep ? 
 I wish I had had a brick handy instead of that 
 cabbage." 
 
 The rest of the harangue was wasted, for it found 
 not the listeners for whom it was intended. These 
 latter were scampering away along the road they 
 had come like so many scalded cats. But at last 
 they had to slow up ; they hadn't any legs left to 
 
ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 143 
 
 run with. So they crawled along without a word 
 or a look to one another. But by-and-by, as they 
 were getting more assured that they had escaped 
 the impending doom, whatever shape it might have 
 taken, little black thoughts popped up in the hearts 
 of the trio, and wicked little voices whispered in 
 their ears. Something about Noah they whispered. 
 Leib heard them say quite distinctly that it was 
 through Noah that he had been nearly poisoned 
 with ditch-water. Hirsh they told that it was 
 Noah's fault he had been stabbed almost mortally 
 and had been rendered a pauper ; and Wolf they 
 asked whether, had it not been for this same Noah 
 he would have got that trumpet rammed so dis- 
 agreeably down his throat. And presently Hirsh, 
 in whom the desire for revenge was strongest, be- 
 cause of the preponderance of his wrongs, made 
 certain overtures to Leib in a subdued voice. Noah, 
 who was slinking along in front, caught a word or 
 two with ears sharpened by a nameless apprehen- 
 sion ; but when, a little later, he found that Wolf 
 had also joined the conclave, then he knew that 
 there was need of quick action to avert his evil 
 destiny. 
 
 " We took the wrong road, that's all," he said, turn- 
 ing round nonchalantly ; " I remember now " 
 
 That was as far as he got. " I'll give you some- 
 thing to remember," Hirsh said, hurling himself 
 furiously on the author of his misfortunes ; " I'll 
 teach you to take us on a fool's errand." 
 
 Wolf and Leib were not long in reinforcing 
 Hirsh's efforts to impart to Noah the afore-men- 
 tioned instruction ; and Noah was just considering 
 if he had not better sham being dead, and then, as 
 his assailants drew off to contemplate their handi- 
 work, to make a desperate dash for it, when all at 
 once there was heard the shouting of many voices, 
 
141 ON THE ROAD TO ZION. 
 
 lights were flashing in all directions, and a minute 
 after the four knight-errants were doing penance 
 across the knees of their distracted fathers. 
 
 The infamy resulting from his outrage on the 
 Brothers of Zion did not attach to Noah for very- 
 long. The following week already he eclipsed it 
 by sending the President of the Holy Society for 
 Preparing the Dead for Burial to Shmaya's house 
 on the strength of a premature announcement of 
 the latter's decease. 
 
The Glotbes-Ppop of 
 GpandmotbeF Hii^delab. 
 
 THE household of Kolba Klamm, of Yarotsin, 
 consisted of himself, his wife Esther, his 
 little boy David, and the drink-devil that was 
 Kolba's own private familiar. The latter was by 
 far the most important member of the household, 
 and took up the most room, which is the custom of 
 drink-devils, especially of those who endenizen 
 themselves in homes of small girth and compass. 
 And the way in which he had obtained the right 
 of residence in Kolba's house was as follows. 
 
 Years before Kolba married he was, by pro- 
 fession, a carter of turf and timber to the town. 
 He used to go with his conveyance to the hill 
 forest of Kastivitch, ten miles up, buy his cartload, 
 and drive back to Yarotsin. The way between 
 the two places goes along a strip of high table 
 land, on the right of which a bleak steep wall of 
 slate rock rises massively, whereas the left slopes 
 abruptly to the plains below. And so when Kolba 
 drove his vehicle along the road in winter, he had 
 the full benefit of the keen-edged frost-wind 
 butting itself headlong against the fock barrier 
 that impeded its onward course. And with every 
 blast Kolba felt himself cut in halves. Many a 
 time when he arrived back in town he had to be 
 lifted down, stiff as one of his own logs, and lay 
 before the fire till he thawed himself back into life. 
 
146 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 And SO the idea gained hold of him to take a little 
 fire along with him on his journeys, if it was only 
 the liquid fire which goes by the name of vodka. 
 The new departure turned out a great success — 
 that is, for the immediate purpose in hand. As 
 Kclba sat on his box-seat and heard the merci- 
 less wind whistling about his ears, while the cold 
 was nibbling with a thousand needle-like teeth at 
 his toes and finger tips, he merely had recourse to 
 his bottle, and immediately he felt as if he had lit 
 a blazing furnace inside him, which sent its flames 
 undulating through the length and breadth of his 
 body. And when the blaze flagged he poured 
 down a little more fuel, chuckling to himself, and 
 thinking what a clever fellow he was thus effec- 
 tively to foil the malice of the elements. And 
 curiously enough when the summer came, and the 
 sun was a huge armoury from which red-hot 
 spears and javelins hurtled down on the hapless 
 wayfarer, Kolba became scientific, went in for 
 homoeopathic notions, and kept on with his vodka, 
 because he fancied it acted as a refrigerating 
 medium. And so all the year round the furnace 
 inside him was ablaze, and in it was generated 
 the above-mentioned drink-devil, in the same way 
 that salamanders are manufactured, according to 
 the statistics of the " Go-and-See-Book," by inces- 
 santly fuelling a smelting oven for seven years and 
 a day. The only good the drink-devil did Kolba 
 was to preserve his life, by keeping the horses in 
 the straight road and thus from sliding down the 
 precipice on the left, two hundred feet to the bottom, 
 while their charioteer lay snoring on his seat. 
 And so rt was that Kolba had now to be lifted 
 irom off the waggon both in summer and 
 in winter, and whereas before he had met with 
 much sympathy and commiseration, he now began 
 
GRANDMOTHER HINDELAH. 147 
 
 to be looked upon a? a mangy sheep, which might 
 spread contagion among the flock. 
 
 Consequently, when he made up his mind to 
 settle down and wanted some one to preside over 
 his homestead, it was but natural that the scope of 
 his choice should be restricted. Not that he thought 
 it worth while to grow grey hairs over that, because 
 his choice had been made long ago, with the con- 
 sent of the chosen party, and when Esther had 
 finished her contracted years of service in the house 
 of Rabbi Myer, the ecclesiastic head of Yarotsin, 
 she at once fulfilled her next contract, which was 
 to throw in her lot with Kolba, The only stipula- 
 tion she had made was that Kolba should give up 
 his open-air occupation, and follow a calling where 
 a man is not thrown so much on the society of a 
 waggon, two dray horses and a bottle of vodka. 
 And so Kolba took again to the shoemaker's craft, 
 of which he was master, and which he had dis- 
 carded from a feeling of false shame at its humble- 
 ness and the restraint it imposed on him. Kolba 
 humoured his wife, because by that time he had 
 become tolerably indifferent to notions of pride and 
 liberty, and in his sober moments he sat at his last 
 and made a living, or would have made one, if the 
 drink-devil had not proved so great a discount on 
 the family resources. 
 
 No, Esther's plan did not work ; the evil passion 
 had engrafted itself too deeply on Kolba's system, 
 and required more than a mere change of occupa- 
 tion to extirpate it. But what she thought of it 
 all, and whether she regretted her marriage and 
 upbraided her adverse destiny, no one ever knew. 
 Esther refused to be pitied at all costs. Kolba was 
 entirely her own business ; if he suited her, he 
 would have to suit everyone else. There was no 
 other course in the matter. Homes for inebriates 
 
148 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 and such-like luxuries of civilisation are unknown in 
 that part of the world. The afflicted are allowed 
 to die of delirium tremens, or paralysis, or spon- 
 taneous combustion — it is so much cheaper and 
 healthier for every one concerned. Only once, and 
 then with very good reason, Esther had made a 
 confidant ; it was when Benjamin Gatzel, the local 
 Marshallik's son, came home for a week after 
 finishing his studies at Charkov University, and 
 his own parents did not recognise him behind his 
 gold-rimmed pince-nez and under his appellation 
 of Dr. Berthold Sonnenthal ; it was then that 
 Esther had gone to him and entreated him, for the 
 sake of all he held dear in this world and all he 
 hoped for in the next, and for the sake of the days 
 when they had been playmates together, to cure 
 her husband, inasmuch as the fame of the doctor's 
 cleverness in these things had spread to the ends 
 of the earth. 
 
 Dr. Berthold Sonnenthal had looked at her very 
 seriously and had said : " My good woman, nothing 
 but a violent shock to the cerebral nerve-system 
 has been known to effect a radical reaction in these 
 cases. If I had the necessary apparatus at my 
 disposal here, I might experiment on him, but — " 
 And the doctor shrugged his shoulders in a way 
 which doctors have when they think they have 
 said enough to say everything. 
 ' And Esther had gone away, feeling very vague 
 in her mind as to what the learned professor meant 
 by the long words in pure high German, and know- 
 inef for certain that all she could do now was to 
 redouble her supplications to the Healer of all 
 disorders, who has His remedies always ready to 
 hand. 
 
 It was on festivals and days of rejoicing that 
 Esther felt her lot sorest, when she saw the light 
 
GRANDMOTHER HIND EL AH. . 149 
 
 and gladness in other dwellings, and knew that her 
 own was darkened by the shadow of an unspeakable 
 sorrow, despite the air of unconcern she gave 
 herself — an air which cost her so much striving 
 and wrestling of soul, and which merely aggravated 
 the neighbours. If the calendar only contained 
 more fasts and other national anniversaries of 
 tribulation, the strain of living would not be so 
 tense, because there would be less occasion for her 
 to do violence to her feelings. And just now it 
 was Purim, the holiday in honour of her namesake, 
 Esther, the Queen. 
 
 Kolba and little David were sitting in the 
 synagogue that was crammed with a large 
 congregation on the morning of the festival- 
 Right at the rear sat the two, almost elbowing 
 the professional beggars, and David wondered 
 in his heart why his father was content to rub 
 shoulders with the riffraff of the town instead of 
 taking his place among the respectable house- 
 masters. He would have asked his father, only 
 the latter was so deep in thought, staring before 
 him with a far-off look in his eyes, and seemingly 
 unconscious of all around. And, indeed, Kolba 
 was musing on many things, so intent on his 
 meditations, that he had lost the place in the 
 reading of the Megillah, the Record Book of the 
 great deliverance in the days of Ahasuerus. His 
 scroll lay before him, almost where he had unrolled 
 it, and the voice of the Reader, intoning the 
 stirring events of the great historical drama in the 
 city of Shushan, fell unheeded on his ears. Kolba 
 mused — he was thinking what a wreck he had 
 made of his life, and how he might have fashioned 
 it far otherwise. He was wondering what had 
 become of the good resolutions, the virtuous 
 intentions he had manufactured in such quantities 
 
150 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 at the time of his marriage, when he thought he 
 had fairly and finally settled accounts with the 
 past ; and then he remembered that they were still 
 there, all of them, only they were waiting for their 
 accomplishing, and the past was still the present. 
 Was it then so impossible for him to make one 
 firm stand against the insidious enemy that was 
 stealthily — nay, no longer stealthily — undermining 
 him, his home, his heart's dearest and best ? God 
 knew he had tried and failed, had tried again, 
 failed again, till it had become patent to his quail- 
 ing heart that he was doomed, and that it was 
 a destiny of his own doing which now undid 
 him. What caused him to think of these things, 
 now of all times? The sight of the scroll before 
 him. To-day, eight years ago, his bride had 
 given it to him, the only heirloom testifying to the 
 departed greatness of her house, which traced its 
 descent from Jacob Elchanan, the great cabbalist 
 and wonder-worker. And Esther had given him 
 the scroll, without waiting till, as her husband, he 
 might take lawful possession of it, because, as she 
 said, it contained her name so many times and 
 might act as a charm against his forgetting it- 
 And he had sworn to her that he would make her 
 a life, which, for happiness, all the queens of the 
 world, living or dead, would look on with envy. 
 What a perjurer he had been — what a traitor to 
 himself and to her. And that was the deepest 
 humiliation of all — it was left to his own heart to 
 reproach him ; the rebuke would never come from 
 her lips. Any other wife would long ago have 
 slammed the door in his face, and have preferred 
 the chance of starving. She, she would suffer^ 
 keep silent and die. 
 
 He looked curiously at the scroll. It was so 
 long since he had looked at it and given it a 
 
GRANDMOTHER HINDELAH, 151 
 
 serious thought. It embodied so many things — a 
 new chance in life a merciful Providence had 
 offered him, a happiness that might have been, a 
 thousand regrets, a world of impotent despair — it 
 was the cemetery of all these. That made it 
 worth looking at close enough to see that the blue 
 silk which lined it at the back was getting faded — 
 it was the same silk with which Esther had edged 
 the corners of his prayer-shawl, and of which 
 her wedding dress had been made. The wedding 
 dress had long ceased to exist, but he remembered 
 it now, as he remembered so many other things — 
 his little David, for instance, with his wan cheeks 
 and big, patient eyes, that sometimes made his 
 father tremble when they were fixed on him with 
 their questioning look ; and just then it struck 
 Kolba that one day the dumb question would be 
 spoken and would have to be answered. And 
 Kolba thought it was time to provide for that day^ 
 so that he might be able to give an account of 
 himself Well, he would start making provision at 
 once. He clenched his teeth, for he knew what 
 this undertaking meant ; he knew he would have 
 to go through a great deal more clenching of teeth 
 before it would be at length achieved. He would 
 battle with the malignant demon inside him, he 
 would exorcise him, he would rid himself of his 
 tyranny, though the revolt would shorten his life 
 by half its span. And this time, with the help of 
 God, the questioning eyes of his little son and his 
 martyr-wife, with the help of the silk-lined scroll — 
 this time he would succeed. 
 
 Kolba looked up ; the cantillation of the Megillah 
 had come up to the enumerating of the ten sons of 
 Haman, which must be read in one gulp, and 
 leaves the Reader choking and breathless — to sym- 
 bolise, no doubt, the state of the sons of Haman 
 
i52 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 when Mordecai and the children of Israel had 
 finished with them. And before Kolba could 
 realise the rapid lapse of the time, the congregation 
 was rising, doffing the paraphernalia of prayer, and 
 sallying out. 
 
 " May I carry the Megillah ? " asked little David, 
 timidly. 
 
 Kolba nodded assent, and David gleefully laid 
 hold of the scroll, rolled it up tightly, and placed 
 it in his doublet ; it was such a pretty plaything, and 
 he was allowed to handle it but one day in the year. 
 
 Kolba walked on with hanging head, and in 
 pensive silence. He had a task before him for 
 which he was no adept, and which required careful 
 preparation. Esther had just finished setting the 
 breakfast things on the table when her husband 
 entered, alone, because David had remained 
 behind to exhibit his beautiful scroll to everyone 
 whom he could inveigle into bestowing a glance 
 on it. Kolba had still not determined on his plan, 
 and so to save himself further racking of brain 
 he went up to his wife and kissed her twice on the 
 mouth. 
 
 " It is our wedding day," he explained awk- 
 wardly, interpreting her look. 
 
 " To be sure — I had forgotten." she answered 
 quietly. 
 
 " I thought I had given you enough cause to 
 remember it," said Kolba in a husky tone. 
 
 Esther looked at him in doubt. Was it a taunt 
 or regret he had uttered ? His next words told her. 
 
 " Esther," he said, casting down his eyes, " I have 
 made a heap of ashes out of your young life. No 
 wonder you do not care to think of the cursed day 
 that gave me the power to do it." 
 
 " I have not cursed the day," said Esther, seeking 
 his eye^ that avoided hers ; " it was a day like any 
 
GRAND MO THEN HIND EL AH. 153 
 
 other that God gives, bearing in its womb good 
 and evil." 
 
 " Then you must cur.-,e me, because I was the 
 evil which it bore you," said Kolba. 
 
 Esther looked at him in wonder. Never before, or 
 at least not for a very long time, had his words con- 
 tained that ring of contrition. What did it mean } 
 
 " Kolba," she said, " I have never opened my lips 
 in ill speech against you, whether in your hearing 
 or out of it. I have borne with you. I shall bear 
 with you as long as I have strength. It is not my 
 affliction I grieve for, it is yours." 
 
 "Because in mine you have already sufficient 
 cause for sorrow, you mean. Esther, you shall not 
 sorrow any more." 
 
 Esther felt a sudden thrill of fear. " Shall you 
 divorce me .-* " she asked. 
 
 Kolba laughed — almost a happy laugh. " What 
 put that thought into your head ? " And then his 
 voice took a sharp turn of apprehension, and he 
 went on : " Unless you desire it ? " 
 
 She shook her head. " Did I not say I would 
 bear with you ? " she said. 
 
 " And you shall find it easy," said Kolba, putting 
 all his soul into his words. " A resolve came to me 
 to-day — straight from heaven it must have come, 
 for I feel that with it there has been given me the 
 endurance to make it good. Esther, you know 
 what I mean, your tribulation is ended." 
 
 Esther hung her head. Was that all ? Kolba 
 had merely made another promise that he would 
 turn over a new leaf, and eschew temptation. Ah, 
 she knew his promises. What was the use of 
 buoying herself up with an empty hope, and storing 
 up for herself another and speedy disappoint- 
 ment ? Kolba read the doubts of her heart. 
 
 '* Nay, Esther, I do not ask you to believe me ; 
 
154 THE CLOTHES-rROP OF 
 
 only look on and see. And yet," he continued 
 tremulously, "it would help me if you believed, 
 only a little, that I could help myself. It would 
 make me doubly strong." 
 
 " How can I trust you } " almost wailed Esther, 
 twining her fingers convulsively. "One of these 
 days I shall trust too surely and you will deceive 
 me, and my heart will break." 
 
 "But you shall not again be deceived," cried 
 Kolba, hoarsely, stretching out his shaking hand 
 for hers, "you shall not, Esther; what would you 
 have me swear by } Ah," his face lit up as the 
 door opened, and David bounded in. " Do you 
 see, Esther," he went on exultantly, " God has 
 shown me whereby to make my oath —by his life ! " 
 And he laid his hand on David's head, as though 
 it were an altar. 
 
 The boy looked up wonderingly into the faces of 
 his parents, but he could make nothing of them, 
 and he was too frightened to ask. He only saw 
 his mother nodding her head in silence and big 
 tears welling into her eyes. And when his father 
 and he were sitting at breakfast, David wondered 
 still more, for though the tears were still glittering 
 in his mother's eyes, she moved about so briskly, 
 )with such a springing step and so joyous a smile 
 on her face. And that was a new thing to him, 
 for he had watched her weeping at other times, 
 and then she had sat with tight-drawn lips, rigid as 
 a statue of stone, and gazing blindly into space. 
 And somehow he felt so much happier to see her 
 weep in this fashion, and the dry, coarse, bread he 
 was eating tasted as though it had an inch-thick 
 layer of honey upon it. 
 
 Presently Kolba got up and said to his wife, 
 a little shamefacedly and with subdued voice : 
 " We are making a poor festival of this day ; and 
 
GRANDMOTHER HIND E LA H. 155 
 
 the fault is not yours, Esther. There was no need 
 for us to be up to our neck in poverty." 
 
 " I am rich, in riches that pass all counting," 
 returned Esther ; " there was more gold in the 
 words you spoke to me than is in all the world's 
 treasuries, and that makes me content with my 
 poor estate." 
 
 " That is neither here nor there," said Kolba, 
 cheerily ; " this is a day which must be celebrated 
 in all due honour." 
 
 " Would that we could — but how ? " asked 
 Esther. 
 
 " Leave that to me, incredulous one," smiled 
 Kolba, stroking her cheek ; " I am going up to the 
 Big House to ask payment for the pair of riding- 
 boots I made for the farmer. At noon to-day I 
 was to come — I am belated already. I shall go 
 forthwith and return quickly." 
 
 A great fear rose in Esther's bosom : Kolba 
 would have money at his disposal — much money, 
 for in his better moments he was a skilful work- 
 man, and people paid him well. And this would 
 be the first trial his determination would encounter. 
 
 " Let me go with you," was on her lips ; but she 
 checked the words. Had he not asked her to 
 believe him. and was she to let him think that her 
 faith in him did not reach beyond the threshold of 
 their dwelling } That would only defeat her own 
 ends. 
 
 And so Kolba went alone to the Big House, 
 where the farmer dwelt, got the six roubles, the 
 stipulated price, and started on his way back. He 
 was going to take home all that was needed for 
 the feasting — a pound of calf-liver, almonds and 
 raisins, flour and sugar for the fritters, and all the 
 other delicacies which were the order of the day. 
 But nothing to drink — not a thimbleful ; that was 
 
156 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF, 
 
 why he was making the long detour to avoid the 
 drink-shop at the outskirts of the town, and . . . 
 what was the meaning of this — was it his evil 
 genius that had befooled him so ? For here he 
 was right before the tavern — a dozen steps would 
 take him to the door, and the voices of the 
 roysterers inside could be heard quite clearly. 
 Kolba's heart grew bigger and bigger in his bosom, 
 and thumped like a sledge-hammer ; the dew of 
 fear stood in thick drops on his forehead, and 
 he could feel himself growing white as chalk. 
 With a tremendous wrench he tore himself from 
 the spot, staggered a few paces with tottering 
 knees, and just as he was about to take the first 
 long stride that would bring him into safety, he 
 heard a shout of some-one calling him by name. 
 He tried to lift his hands in order to stop his ears, 
 but he seemed to have no arms, and the sleeves of 
 his coat were hanging empty ; and soon another 
 voice joined the first in calling him, and then 
 another, until a dozen throats were shouting : 
 " Kolba, come and drink with us ! " 
 
 Like a hunted deer he gazed at the faces throng- 
 ing the window of the tavern and at the hands 
 that beckoned him on. He knew these men ; they 
 were Chassidim, whose prototypes were the 
 Pharisees of old, and who believe in a religion 
 made up of long caftans, broad waist-girdles and 
 love-locks and generally play antics with the 
 grand old faith of Sinai. 
 
 " Come, Kolba, let us see how you can drink/' 
 called one of them. 
 
 A wild rage came over Kolba at these words ; so 
 that was to what he had sunk — to make sport for 
 these madmen in their drunkenness. But his anger 
 was not so much against the men as against him- 
 self, for the impotence of resisting which was 
 
GRANDMOTHER HINDELAH. 157 
 
 creeping over him, and he prayed quickly that God 
 might either send Elijah to bear him out of tempta- 
 tion in his chariot, or to be struck dead in the 
 instant. So he stood there shaking his head in 
 idiotic fashion, and mechanically the words came 
 from him : " No, no, I have left off drinking. I 
 told Esther so." 
 
 " Nonsense, Kolba," cried another, " you are 
 only beginning ; you are quite young yet ; if you 
 go on drinking till you are eighty you will live to 
 be an old man." 
 
 Kolba listened in silence to the jeering, and only 
 went on shaking his head. That exasperated the 
 Pietists ; Kolba's refusal was a distinct breach of 
 the observances of the day. 
 
 " Heathen, apostate, abomination ! " rang from 
 all lips. But above all the rest was heard the 
 voice of hump-back Issar, the most rabid and 
 fanatical of them all. 
 
 " Do you not know that it is an obligation on us 
 to drink and be drunk this Purim Day till one 
 cannot distinguish between Haman and Mordecai ? 
 Gentile ! Do you want to bring ruin on the 
 congregation by your irreverence ? " 
 
 A trembling like that of ague seized Kolba ; he 
 felt the iron chains with which he had fettered his 
 desire were snapping one by one, and that pre- 
 sently, if no help came, his evil instinct would 
 break out and bear everything before it. " God, if 
 not on me, have mercy on my wife and child," he 
 prayed with his last remaining strength. 
 
 Issar watched him, fuming. " Oh, I have it," he 
 muttered to himself Quickly he snatched up a 
 glass of liquor and held it out of the window. 
 
 " Look, Kolba," he shouted, " the best grog ever 
 brewed ; look at the vapour of it — like the incense 
 of myrrh ! " 
 
158 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 Kolba looked, and the odour of the beverage 
 came wafted to him and drew him on with unseen 
 tentacles, as the scent of blood draws on the wild 
 beast. A heave and a tremor shook him from 
 head to foot ; he cast a mad, frightened look 
 to where he knew his wife Esther was waiting for 
 him in their dwelling, and with a groan that to his 
 own ears was like the groan, of his good angel 
 writhing in mortal torment, he flung himself 
 through the open door of the tavern, knowing that 
 it was as the entrance to a living grave. 
 
 Kolba was right ; Esther was, indeed, waiting 
 anxiously for his return, listening for the sound of 
 his footsteps, with her heart in her ears. David 
 was keeping her company, and had just finished 
 tiding over his dinner appetite by a continuation 
 of the breakfast victuals. After that he sat 
 musing for a while. 
 
 " It is just a year ago," was the upshot of his 
 ruminations. 
 
 " What is ? " asked Esther. 
 
 " Don't you remember ? I mean when father 
 came home, took the beautiful suet-cake and the 
 Haman's-hats you had prepared and dashed them 
 on the floor, and afterwards poured the beet-root 
 soup out of the window, although yt u had taken 
 three eggs to make it mellow. Why did he do 
 that ? You would never tell me when I asked." 
 
 Esther's hand fluttered to her heart. " Because 
 it is not good that little folks should ask questions 
 except at the Passover table," she said with a wan 
 smile ; " still, this time I shall answer you. It was 
 a jest of your father's — nothing more. You know 
 it is lawful to play jests on one another on Purim 
 feast." 
 
 " But that was a jest to weep over, not to laugh 
 at," said David with a pout ; " I hope father won't 
 
GRANDMOTHER HIND EL AH. 
 
 159 
 
 take it into his head to jest like that to-day. It 
 makes me hungry again merely to think of it." 
 
 " His mind is not bent on jests to-day," said 
 Esther ; " he was very serious this morning." 
 
 But despite her reassuring words, Esther felt a 
 shiver of doubt. Had Kolba been indeed serious } 
 She dared not think — she could only hope and go 
 on praying for it. 
 
 Little David had fallen back into his reverie. 
 
 " And then there is another thing, mother," he 
 blurted out suddenly, " it is quite a long story, and 
 it happened about two months ago. You had 
 sent me up to bed as you always do when you are 
 waiting up for father ; but that night you had such 
 a sad look on your face that I could not fall asleep 
 for thinking of it. And then I heard father come 
 in, and immediately he began shouting and stamp- 
 ing till I got frightened and crept downstairs to 
 see what was the matter, and through the chink of 
 the wall I saw father had one hand in your hair, and 
 the other he had lifted up like this — as if to strike 
 you un the face, and you were saying : ' Kolba, not 
 that, not that — everything but that ' ; and then he 
 let go and crouched down in the corner and sat 
 weeping. And at that I got still more terrified and 
 quickly went back to bed and pulled the coverlet 
 over my ears. Was that another of father's jests ? " 
 
 And the little fellow paused, out of breath with 
 the hurry of his words, and sat anxiously gazing 
 at his mother for an answer. But she sat gazing 
 back at him, with both hands to her heart this 
 time, and at last she gasped : " What are you 
 saying ? You are mad ; it is not what you saw, 
 you only dreamt it, because you had not said your 
 night-prayer properly." And then her voice broke, 
 and with a sob she concluded : " Believe me, little 
 son, it is not true, you only dreamt it." 
 
i6o THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 David kept his lips tightly together, for fear 
 they should frame another question — his questions 
 received such strange answers. But Esther's heart 
 was in a wild panic. So it was coming at last, 
 what she had been trying to prevent, knowing it to 
 be an impossible task — her son was beginning to 
 find out things for himself. All through her 
 troubles this had been her only consolation — her 
 child was blessedly ignorant of the black shadow 
 that spread its wings over their home. The 
 thought which had that morning come to Kolba as 
 an inspiration had been an ever-present incubus 
 upon her mind. One day her son would stand 
 before her and ask : " Woman, what is this thing 
 you have given me for a father ? " And she had 
 often prayed that it might be at her graveside 
 her son should ask that question. O God in 
 Heaven, had Kolba been serious? If he had, why 
 was he not back from his errand ? It was two 
 hours' journey to and from the Big House, and he 
 had been gone three. But he might have had to 
 wait, he might be chatting to an acquaintance, a 
 thousand things might have happened to delay 
 him ; let it be ten thousand — only not that one. 
 
 So the afternoon wore on apace, it was three 
 o'clock already, and Esther waited on, sometimes 
 with a blank heart and brain, and sometimes 
 feeling she must burst with the fulness of her fear 
 and impatience. But she did not show it by so 
 much as the twitching of a muscle. She might 
 have gone forth to meet him, to look for him, only 
 she was too proud to let people know of her 
 anxiety, and, moreover, it would have been an ill 
 way of showing the faith and trust she had pro- 
 mised her husband. Suddenly her eyes fell on 
 David, who sat there, squirming with the restless- 
 ness of youth, and a thought struck her. 
 
GRANDMOTHER HINDELAH. i6i 
 
 " Why do you not go out ? " she asked. 
 
 " I am afraid to leave you — you look so lonely," 
 said the seven-year-old sturdily. 
 
 " Then I shall tell you what you are to do ; go 
 here and there about the town and make search 
 for your father ; but when you see him, don't say 
 that I sent you, unless he asks — do you under- 
 stand ? " 
 
 David nodded, and jumped up merrily ; after 
 all his heart was as yet too small to have room for 
 many troubles, and the sun was shining outside for 
 all he was worth. 
 
 " What is that bulging in your doublet ? " asked 
 Esther. 
 
 " It is — it is only the Megillah Scroll," he said 
 with a quaver; " I shall be so careful of it, mother." 
 He was under great apprehension that she would 
 take it from him and replace it in its usual recep- 
 tacle. But Esther only flushed with joy; it was a 
 happy omen ; under the auspices of this wedding- 
 gift of hers, which she had tendered her bridegroom 
 in love and hope and happiness — it was fitting that 
 her son should thus go forth on the errand that 
 would bring back to her the promise of all these 
 things, or annihilate them for ever. 
 
 So David sallied out into the balmy spring after- 
 noon, feeling as proud of his mission as any am- 
 bassador sent to adjust the international interests 
 of a continent. The secrecy which his mother had 
 enjoined on him seemed to hint that there was 
 need of great tact and diplomacy in the business. 
 To scour the neighbourhood for some one, and then 
 when you meet him to pretend that the meeting 
 was the result of quite a fortuitous conjuncture of 
 circumstances, was a new experience to our 
 emissary. And so, having determined to enjoy the 
 situation to the utmost, he asked the first man he 
 
1 62 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 came across if by any chance he had seen his 
 father. The man shook his head surlily, and passed 
 on. Nothing daunted, David asked the second — 
 in the little town everybody of course knew every- 
 body else, and could give an account of his neigh- 
 bour's genealogy back into dim generations. The 
 second man took the question more kindly, going 
 to the extent of shrugging his shoulders, and say- 
 ing : " Better for you you had never been born." 
 
 That was a curious way of giving the desired in- 
 formation, thought David ; the man must be mad 
 to talk so absurdly. And then, laughing at his 
 foolishness, he straightway accosted another passer- 
 by. This one, at least, was a sensible man, and he 
 told David that he would find his father in the 
 hostel just outside the town. David made a sour 
 face, because it meant a good hour's journey for 
 him. Still, there was nothing to be done, so he 
 pulled up his stockings, and set out with a stout 
 heart. Presently he came to the fishing weir, 
 where the frogs used to sit and tell each other 
 fairy tales in the cool of the summer evenings. 
 There were no frogs about just then, but Grand- 
 mother Hindelah was washing what she called her 
 clothes outside her little loam hut, two or three 
 stones' throw from the pond. David was shocked 
 — the wicked old woman, to be washing clothes on 
 a holiday, when no one thought of doing any work. 
 No wonder the children called her the Machsheifah, 
 the witch. Poor old Hindelah ! If the youngsters 
 only knew what the older folks knew, they would 
 not hoot her, and bespatter her with mud when 
 no grown-up was looking. Ever since her only 
 son had died, twenty years ago, the world had lost 
 its shape and symmetry in her eyes ; everything 
 seemed topsy-turvy, and times and seasons were 
 all jumbled up together. So how was she to know 
 
GRANDMOTHER HTNDELAH. 163 
 
 it was Purim, since no one took the trouble to tell 
 her? 
 
 David stopped and watched her for a while at 
 her task. Then his righteous indignation got the 
 upper hand, and he called out : " Witch Hindelah, 
 you will wash yourself into Gehennom for your sins." 
 
 The old woman worked on stolidly. 
 
 " Witch Hindelah, your hands will drop off your 
 wrists, so that you can never wash any more," he 
 called again. 
 
 There was still no answer, and then David be- 
 came naughty, and his mind was filled with evil 
 thoughts. He would show the witch what it was 
 to treat him with contemptuous indifference. A 
 few yards from him stood Hindelah's famous wash- 
 ing pole, rearing its smooth-planed height to the 
 heavens. It was famous for the mysterious affection 
 which Hindelah bore it ; not for love or money 
 could any of the housewives procure its services on 
 washing day. Hindelah guarded it zealously, and 
 when she did not use it herself it was stowed away 
 safely in the wattle loft of her habitation. Hindelah 
 had herself forgotten why it was so precious to her ; 
 only sometimes, in her clearer intervals, she con- 
 nected it vaguely with her dead son. Probably it 
 was he who had brought it home to her from the 
 forest, and had trimmed and planed it so neatly ; 
 and this was all the legacy he had left his mother. 
 But the thing that recommended it to the attention 
 of the youngsters of the town was the beautiful 
 two-pronged fork at the top with which it gripped 
 the clothes-line and steadied it in the strongest 
 bluster of the north wind. With a strip of india- 
 rubber tubing fastened to each prong it would make 
 a splendid sling — as good as that wherewith David's 
 namesake slew the giant Goliath. But Hindelah had 
 suspicions of their base designs, and kept a sharp 
 
i64 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 look-out when any of the marauders were in the 
 neighbourhood. David she was not much con- 
 cerned about — he was too small and skmny to do 
 harm to her treasure ; and so when she looked up 
 and saw him tugging the pole out of the ground 
 with all the strength of his little arms, she set up a 
 desperate yell, and came hobbling, to the rescue, 
 her eyes as big as saucers, and her face the colour 
 of purple. David quickly sprang back and made 
 off to a safe distance, for he had never seen the 
 witch look so terrible ; and there he stood laughing 
 at her grimaces, and the mien of impotent malice 
 that contorted her features. At last Hindeiah 
 found her breath again, and began to talk in short 
 little gasps that made David feel she was spitting 
 her words in his face. And the louder he laughed 
 the swifter and more confused grew her speech, and 
 therefore David was astonished to hear himself 
 catch the drift of one of her sentences quite dis- 
 tinctly. 
 
 " The prop, the prop, you shall have it upon a day, 
 but more of it than you shall want," she mumbled. 
 
 This was getting uncanny, and David's laughter 
 died on his lips, and he hurried away, casting back 
 shy, anxious glances at Hindeiah, who stood shaking 
 her forefinger threateningly. And so he was very 
 pleased when a little way further up he came across 
 a group of his schoolfellows, playing the game of 
 odd and even with nuts, as is the custom of the 
 day. David had no nuts with him, and so he had 
 to stand by and look on idly and curiously. Then 
 as the excitement of the gambling gained hold of 
 him, he suddenly remembered that he had a ball of 
 glazier's putty in his pocket which might be negoti- 
 able for barter. So he went up to one of the boys 
 and made overtures. 
 
 " Simcha, give me twenty nuts for this." 
 
GRANDMOTHER HIND EL AH. 165 
 
 Simcha, whose father was the treasurer of the 
 congregation, looked him up and down, and 
 answered : " In the first place I do not want to 
 change my nuts for your putty, which you have 
 stolen, and secondly, if you had a million nuts I 
 would not allow you to play with us." 
 
 David kept his temper, despite the false charge 
 and the insolent rebuff. 
 
 " Why not, Simcha t " he asked quietly. 
 
 " Because your father is a drunkard and beats 
 your mother, and it is not becoming that respectable 
 children should associate with the son of such a one." 
 
 "My father a drunkard — beats my mother?" 
 echoed David in blazing anger. " That is the 
 last word you shall speak for a long time." And 
 the next moment he had Simcha by the throat, 
 and Simcha, who was an arrant coward, began to 
 scream for help although he stood a head taller 
 than his adversary. And presently all the boys 
 came rushing to Simcha's assistance, because a rich 
 man's son has always more friends than a poor 
 man's, and it would have gone hard with David — 
 but just then a howl like that of a mad wolf rang 
 out, and when the frightened children gazed in the 
 direction whence it came, they saw a fearful thing 
 bearing straight down upon them — its tongue loll- 
 ing out of its mouth, its hair a bushy tangle about 
 the face, and even at that distance they could see 
 the eyes gleaming blood-red. But the greatest 
 horror of all was that the monster brandished in its 
 hand a long pole, which could be none other than 
 Grandmother Hindelah's clothes-prop. However, 
 they did not stop to make sure, but scampered off 
 in wild pell-mell, shrieking and squeaking like a 
 drove of sucking pigs under the lash of the driver. 
 
 David had been so busy throttling Simcha, that 
 he had no time for more than a moment's glance 
 
l66 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 at the apparition, but when he saw the others take 
 to their heels, he ran Hkewise, his only thought to 
 escape the danger that came careering on behind 
 him. Now whether he had not sufficient start, or 
 because his legs were shorter than those of the 
 others, he gradually saw himself lagging in the 
 rear, completely out-distanced by his fellow-fugi- 
 tives. And all the while the lumbering horror at 
 his back was coming nearer and nearer — he could 
 feel the ground tremble under its tread — he 
 thought he already felt the tip of the pole in the 
 small of his back, and with a sob of despair he 
 thought that only one chance of safety remained 
 to him — to swerve aside and let the pursuer race 
 past him in the wake of the others, because if he 
 came up with them he would have more victims. So 
 he suddenly took a sharp curve to the left, and a 
 moment after he saw the monster lurch heavily past 
 him with the impetus of its own weight, and already 
 he was thanking God for his deliverance, when, 
 horror of horrors, he heard the pursuing tread stop, 
 recover itself and veer off into the direction he was 
 taking. Mad with fear he staggered on, panting, his 
 heart fluttering into his throat and back again with 
 each pace he took, and already he could descry the 
 first houses in the town ; another minute or two and 
 someone would surely come along the road and stop 
 the murderous brute behind him — and the next 
 moment he had stumbled over a gnarled root 
 growing out of the ground and lay sprawling on 
 his back. Then he knew it was no use fighting 
 against his destiny, and struggling to his knees, he 
 held up his clasped hands, not to pray for his life — 
 he could see that was useless, but to be killed 
 quickly and be done with the horror of it. And 
 before he could gather his wits fully, he saw the 
 terrible face loom down upon him, and his tongue 
 
GRANDMOTHER HINDELAH, 167 
 
 clove to the roof of his mouth, for despite its awful 
 aspect there was something strangely familiar 
 about it ; and then it flashed upon him — was it — 
 could it be — ah yes, it was his father, and Simcha 
 had been right, his father had gone mad with drink, 
 and was about to kill his poor little son. This, 
 then, was the meaning of Witch Hindelah's strange 
 words ; she had cursed him as he had deserved for 
 making mock of a helpless old woman, and there- 
 fore he was now going to die by her clothes-prop. 
 He looked at the cruel point into which it tapered 
 off at the bottom end, charred and hardened in 
 the fire — it was but a matter of moments before 
 he would feel it go crashing through his chest, and, 
 O God, he did not know how the prayer for the 
 dying ran, the prayer without which no one could 
 get into the Garden of Eden. He knew it was 
 contained in his morning-prayer, but what it was, 
 or how it began, had gone clean out of his memory. 
 And then a thought struck him : surely God would 
 be satisfied if he died with any utterance of the 
 sacred tongue on his lips — and quickly he pulled 
 out the Scroll of the Megillah from his doublet, 
 unrolled the first page and began to read with 
 quaking voice that halted and stumbled over the 
 words, because they were written without the vowel 
 points : "And it was in the days of Ahasuerus, the 
 
 Ahasuerus who ruled from Houdu lo Kush " 
 
 High up he held the scroll, so as to hide from 
 his sight the terrible face above, and so that he 
 might not see the blow when it came, and read on 
 meanwhile as fast as his half-palsied tongue could 
 wag. 
 
 Kolba stood swaying from side to side, his 
 weapon poised for the thrust, giving himself time 
 to take steady aim. And then his eyes fell on the 
 face of the figure crouching at his feet, and a 
 
i68 THE CLOTHES-PROP OF 
 
 malignant joy came into his heart. This was a 
 great stroke of luck. Why, here was the goblin 
 who had haunted his memory, and had troubled 
 his soul with vague, uneasy suggestions that he 
 was doing somebody a great wrong, that he had 
 done something that was foul and damnable — this 
 was the goblin who had been always at his ear, 
 and had whispered reproaches that made him feel 
 angry with himself ; but this was the last of him, 
 he would pin him to the earth, and leave him there 
 writhing, and be rid of him for ever. And just as 
 he was drawing his arm back for a stronger lunge 
 he saw the goblin pull something from his bosom 
 — something that was blue ; did goblins as a rule 
 carry strips of sky about with them ? Or else was 
 there something wonderful and magical about this 
 stretch of blue colour that lay across Kolba's eyes? 
 For somehow it made his senses clearer and 
 steadier ; he could look back into things that had 
 happened before and see them take definite shape 
 to themselves, he could weigh words and actions, 
 he could hear voices and see faces that he knew, 
 and he became conscious that the voice and face 
 before him belonged to someone, not to a goblin, 
 but to someone the thought of whom ever made 
 his heart beat with quickened throbs of gladness — 
 and then with a final wrench his mind broke 
 through the clouds and vapours of his drunken 
 stupor, and he saw his son David holding up in 
 his little hands the Megillah Scroll — the emblem 
 of the glad and happy days which he had turned 
 into days of mourning. And from him he glanced 
 at the implement of murder in his hand, and the 
 next moment it had clattered to the ground, and 
 Kolba was on his knees straining David to his 
 bosom, and crying amid sobs and laughter : 
 
 " By your life I had sworn the oath, and ^ere- 
 
GRANDMOTHER HINDELAH. 169 
 
 fore God was pitiful, and preserved you for a 
 token that my oath was acceptable and shall not 
 be made void — by your life." .... He got no 
 further, for a darkness swept over his eyes, and 
 just then the men whom the tale of the terror- 
 stricken children had sent in search of Kolba 
 came up and carried him home while the swoon 
 that had been sent him held him in its merciful 
 embrace. 
 
 ^ -X- ¥: f: 
 
 Some years later, Dr. Berthold Sonnenthal, the 
 famous pathologist, while lecturing in the Clinicum 
 at Charkov, said among other things : 
 
 " I must here instance a most peculiar case of 
 alcoholophobia, which I came across in my native 
 town of Yarotsin. The subject was a confirmed 
 drunkard, and in my opinion nothing but a con- 
 centrated shock to the nervous system of the 
 brain would induce a beneficial reaction. Unfor- 
 tunately, I did not have my galvanic appliances 
 with me at the time to make the experiment, and 
 when I visited the place again in the recent 
 summer vacation, I was'certain that nothing would 
 be left of him but his tombstone. To my surprise, 
 however, I was told, and saw with my own eyes, 
 that the man had become a model member of 
 society. And what do you think had taken the 
 place of the Leyden jar battery I wished to 
 administer to him ? A simple clothes-prop. Ah, 
 you may laugh, gentlemen ; you do not associate 
 galvanism with clothes-props. Wait and you shall 
 hear. One day . . . ." 
 
 But why dish up again the cabbage of yesterday's 
 cooking ? Do we not all know the story of Kolba 
 Klamm's regeneration, and of the part Granny 
 Hindelah's clothes-prop had played therein ? 
 
The l^eclaimed Pledge. 
 
 NOBODY in the town seemed to know him, 
 although he was evidently no stranger in 
 Ilikov. So much was apparent from the first 
 question : 
 
 " Does Anshel, the leather-dealer, still live in the 
 same house ? " 
 
 " No," answered the interrogated shopkeeper. 
 " Old Anshel has been living in Garden Eden for 
 the last two years ; but his daughter occupies it 
 with her husband — only it's a brick house now, the 
 old one was pulled down when " 
 
 The stranger gave him a short nod, which at 
 once acknowledged his obligation and told his in- 
 formant he knew as much as he desired to know. 
 Then he walked on. The shopkeeper stared after 
 him, trying hard to give the well-dressed, prosperous- 
 looking stranger a place in his recollections, until 
 a sudden demand for dried herring interfered with 
 his probing the depths of his memorj'. 
 
 Leisurely the stranger passed through the town, 
 till he came to the extreme end of it, where it made 
 a gallant spurt to redeem itself from utter insigni- 
 ficance and rose to the height of a three-storeyed 
 red-brick building. Here, then, it was that Anshel's 
 daughter lived. 
 
 " Life has gone well with her too, it seems," self- 
 
THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 171 
 
 communed the stranger ; " I am glad, very glad. I 
 think she will be pleased with my errand and the 
 tidings I bring her of myself. Is it not all her 
 doing.?" 
 
 He mounted the three doorsteps and stood 
 waiting. 
 
 " Father has gone to the fair at Leipsic," said a 
 bright-eyed little girl who just then came out of 
 the room on the right. 
 
 " Is your mother in ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, here," said the child. 
 
 Quickly the man entered the indicated room. A 
 lady sat at the table and sewed, and three other 
 children — two brothers and a sister of the first — 
 were playing in the corner. It was a pleasant 
 scene. 
 
 " My husband " began the lady. 
 
 " I know," he cut her short; " my business is with 
 you. I have come to claim my pledge. I should 
 have come before, only I wanted to make quite 
 ?ure first." 
 
 The lady gave a gasp and turned pale for an in- 
 stant or so ; then she rose quickly, unlocked a little 
 cupboard and took from it a large, uncouth-looking 
 pocket-knife, with a rough horn handle and rust- 
 eaten blade. The children looked on in gape- 
 mouthed wonder : this knife had been a sacred 
 thing in the house ever since they could remember ; 
 and now it was to be given back to the owner. He 
 had come at last then, the stranger for whom their 
 mother, as she had always told them, had kept it in 
 trust all these long years. But why should he kiss 
 her hand so humbly, and what meant the tears in 
 the eyes of both ? The children learnt the mean- 
 ing of it afterwards, and in case other children 
 might like. . . . 
 
 Ilikov was a poor town, even for a town in the 
 
17^ THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 
 
 Pale of Settlement ; still it was not poor enough to 
 be without its Hekdish, its alms-house. True, the 
 said alms-house was thrust away in some odd nook 
 of the burial-ground, but that was no more than 
 happens to all poor-houses in that part of the 
 world, and no Hekdish has ever had the face to 
 remonstrate agciinst the arrangement. More pro- 
 perly the Hekdish partakes of the nature of a 
 house of call, for its object is not to give permanent 
 shelter, but to afford a pied-a-terre to the numerous 
 troops of itinerant mendicants who traverse the 
 country in caravans and in rags. But occasionally 
 a piece of human wreckage, weary of drifting, casts 
 anchor there and becomes a fixture. Thus it is 
 that the Hekdish sometimes accumulates a popula- 
 tion. For instance, that of Ilikov contained three 
 occupants — old Genendel, crazy Solomon her hus- 
 band, and Jonah. 
 
 Jonah was now sixteen — that is, by the look of 
 him ; personally, he was totally ignorant of the fact 
 that there were conventional divisions of time. All 
 he knew was that dark alternated with light, 
 summer with winter, hunger with satiety. Eight 
 years ago they had forgotten to pack him up with 
 the other beggar children — whether by accident or 
 of purpose is no matter ; the fact remained, and 
 Jonah remained. He was a fine child, with a fine 
 pair of lungs, and soon the whole town was adver- 
 tised of his abandonment. Precedent was followed 
 in the shape of lots cast among the house-masters 
 with less than three olive branches of their own, as 
 to who should adopt the vociferous stranger. Jonah 
 was allotted a parent, who three months after 
 managed to pass on his adopted son to another 
 house-master for a consideration of fifty roubles 
 paid to the latter. Three months aft^^rwards Jonah's 
 second parent palmed him off on a third, and 
 
THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 173 
 
 thought the transaction cheap at seventy roubles. 
 The third had to keep him for a year before he 
 could muster up the hundred pieces of silver re- 
 quisite for disposing of him elsewhere. So Jonah 
 made the round of the town householders, infusing 
 a certain amount of vitality into the local finances. 
 The man who made the best bargain was Jonah's 
 last parent, who took him over at the price of one 
 hundred and eighty roubles, kept him for a week, 
 and then, miraculously discovering that his foster- 
 son had arrived at the age of thirteen, the years of 
 religious majority and social self-responsibility, 
 pitched him out of doors to commemorate the 
 event. And Jonah, finding himself played out 
 as an article of merchandise and traffic, and not 
 having sufficient enterprise to do business for him- 
 self, betook himself to the Hekdish. 
 
 The reasons which induced Jonah's various 
 parents to dispose of him by hook or by crook 
 hardly, as might be suspected, redounded to his 
 credit. One found him unreliable in his notions of 
 " mine " and " thine " ; another could not get him 
 to say his prayers, and would not have his house 
 defiled by the presence of a heathen ; a third was 
 unkind enough to object to Jonah garotting his 
 foster-brothers, even as a matter of frolic. But, 
 however much they differed in their counts of in- 
 dictment, they were all unanimous on the point 
 that Jonah was a confirmed vagabond and idler, 
 who would never do anything wherein an honest 
 man could honestly take pleasure. 
 
 " He is a hump to our back, which we must carry 
 for another two or three years," said the house- 
 masters to one another : " then we shall send him 
 to the soldiers and be rid of him for ever. In the 
 meantime, keep your stables locked." 
 
 The last injunction was due to the fact that one 
 
174 THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 
 
 day Jonah had been met riding the butcher's black 
 mare on the high road to Klom. Jonah asserted 
 that the mare had begged to be taken out for a 
 ride, and that he had mounted her out of sheer 
 kindness of heart. But as there happened to be 
 a horse fair at Klom, and as the butcher's mare 
 said nothing to corroborate Jonah, a somewhat 
 different and less charitable construction was put 
 on the incident. 
 
 So Jonah became the outcast he was. For the 
 last three years he had had no communication with 
 the townspeople except when they called him 
 to act as scavenger to their pantries. His only 
 associates were the old shrew Genendel and her 
 half-witted husband, and their association, as a 
 rule, only extended to their sleeping under one 
 roof. Ail day long Jonah prowled about in the 
 town and out of it, wild-eyed, straggle-haired, a 
 sack slung across his shoulder wherein to bestow 
 anything that seemed to him treasure-trove, from 
 old iron to dead cats. He had never troubled the 
 house-masters for his pruttahs, the Hekdish dole 
 to which he was entitled once a week, not because 
 it was too much labour to collect the little pieces 
 of lead, four of which went to make a farthing, 
 but because it would have put him on a level witn 
 Genendel and Solomon, and the vagrant beggar 
 folk, and when Jonah thought of that, he pulled 
 his waist belt tighter, in order to bottle up his 
 pride inside him more securely. But work he 
 would not ; the demon of unrest bubbling up in 
 his gipsy blood made him rebel against the sug- 
 gestion of restraint. By hit or by wit, by toil or 
 by spoil — so long as one lived, what did it matter 1 
 And so he grew up, lank, lean and gawky, with 
 hatred for his fellow-men, the mark of the pariah, 
 imprinted large on his forehead, for all men to see 
 
THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 175 
 
 he was an Ishmael; and the mothers of the place, if 
 they happened to catch sight of him on a Friday, 
 went and took an extra large lump of the Sabbath- 
 dough for a burnt thank-offering to God that such 
 a destiny had not been put on any one of their 
 offspring. 
 
 It was a broiling summer afternoon, and every 
 one who could afford it held siesta after dinner. 
 Jonah, though he had had no dinner, did not see 
 why he should be done out of his siesta as well ; 
 so he lounged in the mud of the pool where the 
 people came to do their washing in the evening. 
 Not another soul was in sight, and Jonah could 
 undisturbedly chew the cud of his reflections in 
 the absence of better chewing material. And, 
 therefore, he glanced up angrily when he heard 
 steps approaching — could he not be left at least 
 to do his hungering in peace.? But his glance 
 became a glare when he saw who the comer was, 
 and his hunger was swallowed up in the depths of 
 his resentment. Was this fellow any better than 
 he .'* Jonah was as good a name as Joseph, and 
 Joseph was, like him, only a Hekdish child, whorn 
 Avrom, the hemp merchant, who had no kith or 
 kin, had adopted, and now, they said, Joseph was 
 Avrom's factotum, and Avrom, when he died, was 
 going to leave him his big bags of mone3^ Why 
 was no one going to leave Jonah big bags of 
 roubles ? He also would know how to spend them 
 — on bread, loaves of bread a mile long, at which 
 one could munch and munch without ever coming- 
 to the end of them. And just then Jonah felt he 
 could jump on Joseph and bite a good mouthful 
 out of his body. 
 
 Joseph seemed cordially indifferent to Jonah's 
 presence ; he came to a stop two or three yards 
 further down, calmly deposited his basket of un- 
 
176 THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 
 
 washed hemp on the ground, and rolled up his 
 shirt-sleeves prior to beginning the soaking process. 
 Jonah watched him at first in sullen silence, his 
 pent-up rage issuing from him in long-drawn snorts. 
 Joseph went on busily with his washing, humming 
 cheerily to himself as if he had not a care in the 
 world. Then Jonah burst out : " How sleek and 
 plump you look, Joseph — like a goose that is fat- 
 tened up for Tabernacles. To think ihey have 
 let you come out of your coop all by yourself." 
 
 Joseph gave his bunch of hemp a final twist, and 
 silently took up another. 
 
 " Oh, you miserable, mawky drudge ! " continued 
 Jonah. " Haven't you more self-respect than to be 
 content to go on wrenching your arms out of joint 
 on a beautiful summer's -day like this? Now, look 
 at me — how comfortably I am lying here — free as 
 the air, my own master, sleeping or waking, just as 
 the fancy takes me. But with you it's hemp, hemp, 
 hemp all day long — why, it's enough to make a 
 tombstone laugh right out." 
 
 Joseph still made no answer, and from humming 
 took to whistling — whistling as only a man with a 
 full stomach could do it. Jonah dug his elbow 
 frantically into the mud — if only it were Joseph's 
 ribs instead ! But Joseph continued unconcerned. 
 
 " Earth-scum ! " shouted Jonah ; " carrion-body 
 that has no ears to listen when a man is talking 
 sense to it! That's right! Go on slaving your 
 lungs and liver out of yourself; there w^ill be less 
 of you to bury then. What gentlemen we are ! 
 On Sabbaths we go in fine state to the Synagogue, 
 holding up old Avrom's ragged coat-tails, and 
 currying favour with the housemasters, so that one 
 of them might give you his hump-backed, duck- 
 footed daughter for a wife." 
 
 Here Jonah had to interrupt himself, because his 
 
THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 177 
 
 voice was rising to a height much above its normal 
 pitch. Joseph had just finished soaking his 
 hemp, and was packing it tidily into his basket. In 
 another minute he would be out of earshot, and that 
 made Jonah furious ; thus far his words had 
 produced as much effect upon Joseph as paper- 
 pellets on a rock. So he prepared for a final effort. 
 
 "Who in the world are you?" he screamed. 
 " Look at him, giving himself airs — the grovelling, 
 dust-eating garbage sweeper ! A thousand bad 
 dreams into your body-joints — why don't you 
 answer me ? " 
 
 Joseph had succeeded in again poising his basket 
 on his head, and was striding away. 
 
 "Answer you, you horse-thief? " he replied, with 
 a backward glance, and showing all his white teeth 
 in his quiet smile. 
 
 With a howl Jonah leapt up, and hurled himself 
 forward, but Joseph just reached out, and the next 
 moment Jonah was sent spinning back into his 
 wallowing-place. 
 
 There he lay a full half-hour without moving — 
 his face pressed tightly into the soil to absorb its 
 coolness. Then on all fours he crept into the under- 
 growth a little higher up, and there he sank down, 
 loose-limbed and spent. rte was conscious of 
 nothing — neither anger nor hunger, only a great 
 emptiness in his soul and body. That was no doubt 
 how people felt when they were dead, and therefore 
 it was good to be dead, because in this emptiness 
 there seemed no room for aches and pains. True, 
 he had heard others talk of feeling happy, but they 
 must be of a different make to him, and have special 
 organs for it — not a body that was all vacuum, and 
 a soul that was just one big unuttered curse of 
 things human. 
 
 A waking stupor came over him that kept him 
 
178 THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE, 
 
 hopelessly motionless till the cool shadows of the 
 evening refreshed him somewhat. Then he 
 staggered up, because his fast of thirty-six hours 
 was gripping him with desperate agony. And so he 
 tottered on, his eyes roving ravenously in search of 
 something eatable, until he came to the extreme 
 end of the town, where the house of Anshel, the rich 
 leather dealer, stood looking out across the open 
 field. At the back of it was a large farm-yard, 
 emptied of the labourers because the day's toil was 
 done. Cautiously Jonah ventured in. Outside the 
 fowl-house he saw a trough full of dry barleycorns, 
 presumably to-morrow's breakfast for the feathered 
 population. 
 
 Jonah snatched up a handful and devoured it, 
 crouching behind a big cheese barrel. It tasted as 
 the manna of old must have tasted. Another 
 handful disappeared, and yet another, and then 
 Jonah gave a start, because he heard light footsteps 
 coming swiftly to his hiding-place. 
 
 He looked up ; over him stood Malka, Anshel's 
 seventeen-year old daughter, and a pucker was on 
 her lips, like that of one who does not know whether 
 to laugh or cry. 
 
 " I saw you from the window," she explained 
 hurriedly, '* and I brought you this. Quick, take it, 
 and go away before anyone catches you here." 
 
 Mechanically Jonah snatched at the gift and 
 scurried away, without a look or word of gratitude, 
 because he was frightened out of his wits. Had it 
 been some bullying ostler by whom he had been 
 surprised, he would have known how to tackle him ; 
 but the soft voice and softer eyes of the girl had 
 dumbfounded him and sent him running in un- 
 reasoning terror, till he thought he had put leagues 
 and leagues between the apparition and himself 
 He threw himself into the long grass, and for the 
 
THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 179 
 
 first time looked to see what he was holding in his 
 hands. It turned out to be half a wheat-loaf and 
 a whole curd-cheese, and before he knew he had 
 begun on them, he was already licking his fingers 
 — his usual dessert. Then he sprawled on his back, 
 and lay looking up at the stars that came trooping 
 out joyously, like children let out into the play- 
 ground after a heavy day's schooling. Jonah 
 watched them patronisingly ; no doubt they were 
 well off, but not so well off as he was just at present. 
 He was afraid he had grown a stranger to himself 
 — his frame of mind was so different from what it 
 was ordinarily. Other people had given him food, 
 and he felt he would first like to throw it in their 
 faces, and eat it afterwards ; but just now a 
 marvellous meekness and humility had come over 
 him ; he would have liked to say the Benedic- 
 tion after his meal, only he did not know how 
 it ran. And then it struck him that probably 
 it was not so much the gift as the manner of 
 the giving that had impressed him so wonder- 
 fully. He was only angry with himself that he 
 had not been brave enough to stop and take just 
 another little look, as close as the first, at the 
 giver's face ; it would have done him good — he 
 could swear to that. • 
 
 And then he lay quite still, pondering for some 
 pretext to see that face again. Of course, the sim- 
 plest way was to go and beg alms of her ; but once 
 he did that, he knew he could never again lift his 
 eyes to hers, and thus would defeat his own purpose. 
 And presently what he considered the right thought 
 came to him ; but there was enough time to put it 
 into action the next morning, and therefore he curled 
 himself up contentedly and went to sleep, with the 
 spacious earth for his bed, and the spreading, star- 
 embroidered sky for his coverlet. How he pitied 
 
l8o THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 
 
 old Genendel and crazy Solomon in their asthmatic, 
 narrow-chested Hekdish dormitory ! 
 
 He awoke with the dawn, and jumped up nimbly ; 
 he was almost too late. A ten minutes' run brought 
 him to the Hekdish. Genendel and Solomon were 
 snoring for all they were worth. Quickly Jonah 
 seized the little bundle wherein Genendel had 
 wrapped up her precious winter petticoat, the sole 
 relic of what she affirmed had once been an ex- 
 tensive wardrobe, and the next moment he was 
 again in the open and taking the road to Klom. 
 When he got there the shopkeepers were just un- 
 fixing their shutters. Jonah took his parcel to an 
 odds-and-ends shop, and exchanged it for a clasp- 
 knife, an ungainly aft'air, which the shopkeeper 
 was only too glad to barter for an article ten times 
 its value. 
 
 Happy as a king, Jonah went back home ; he 
 had been trudging for eight hours, but that was a 
 minor consideration with him. It vanished alto- 
 gether at the stroke of luck that befell him imme- 
 diately he set foot again in the town ; one of the 
 housewives called him to her door and gave him a 
 big basin of gruel, and another commissioned him 
 to despatch the remains of last Sabbath's mac- 
 caroni pudding. He had settled accounts with 
 the day now, and bestowed his energies on impa- 
 tiently awaiting the evening, in order to achieve 
 his project. 
 
 Malka sat at the window in the twilight, with a 
 curious look of expectancy on her face. Jonah 
 would have thought she was looking out for him, 
 could he have worked himself up to a sufficient 
 pitch of absurdity. He had been watching her 
 from afar for the last half-hour, lacking heart to 
 approach nearer before he might do it with more 
 safety under cover of greater darkness; and then 
 
THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. i8i. 
 
 again he chafed at the thought that the darker it 
 became the less chance he would have of sating 
 his eyes on her countenance. At last he could 
 possess himself no longer, and so he shambled up 
 in an aimless fashion, thinking his gait wonder- 
 fully steady considering that throbbing heart of 
 his was trying to jerk him this way and that way 
 and all ways. And suddenly it gave him quite a 
 tremendous jerk, for Malka had got up from the 
 window, and immediately afterwards reappeared 
 at the farmyard fence, and stood beckoning to him. 
 With two more heart-jerks he was at her side. 
 
 " I suppose you are hungry," she began. 
 
 " No," said Jonah ; and then he suddenly fetched 
 out the clasp-knife from his pocket and pressed it 
 into her hand. 
 
 Malka was just going to scream, but she thought 
 better of it in time. 
 
 ** What's this for?" she asked in wonder, holding 
 up the weapon or instrument — it might have been 
 either. 
 
 " For you," said Jonah hastily. " It will be use- 
 ful — you can do such a lot of things with it — make 
 
 cross-bows and arrows, or bulrush whistles, or 
 
 I thought you would like it." 
 
 Malka smiled. Poor Jonah ! He evidently wanted 
 telling that there were some slight differences of 
 taste between boys and girls ; how was he to know, 
 though } But she left off smiling when he went on, 
 almost shamefacedly : 
 
 " You see, you have been kind to me. Did you 
 not speak to me with a soft voice ? " 
 
 " And now you want to take all the grace out of 
 the thing by making me accept payment for it.^" 
 she asked quickly. " I would rather have your 
 thanks in words." And before Jonah knew it, she 
 had thrust the knife back into his hands. 
 
•182 THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 
 
 Dejectedly he turned to go. She took a pace or 
 two after him. 
 
 " But I am glad of it all the same," she continued. 
 " I shall know what to think of you after this. 
 The world says many harsh things of you, Jonah — 
 I am afraid not without justice. But that is only 
 because you are not just to yourself; there is good 
 in you — you have let me see it — although you may 
 not know it yourself There have been other 
 foundling boys" — Jonah wondered why her voice 
 just then became a trickling sweetness — "other 
 foundling boys who have made their lives a joy to 
 God in Heaven. Do like them ; try hard, and I 
 will help you. No food to-night.? Then come 
 to-morrow, after nightfall, and look there, behind 
 the grindstone ; you will find something that will 
 be worth the eating." Dazed and distracted, Jonah 
 slunk away, groping before him with both hands, 
 because a great light seemed to be shining before 
 his eyes which blinded him. And that was why 
 he stumbled so clumsily against a man coming 
 towards him. He gave a glance ; it was Anshel, 
 Malka s father, and he was carrying a whip. 
 
 Anshel recognised him in the same instant. " Is 
 that you, you vagabond ? " he said. " Remember I 
 have just had a new whipcord fixed, and if I find 
 you loitering here again you will tell me how it 
 tastes." 
 
 Anshel spoke harshly, and yet Jonah felt as if he 
 would like to throw his arms around his neck— only 
 he was afraid that Anshel would set up a cry of 
 murder. 
 
 So he tramped on, his heart full to overflowing, 
 his lips quivering for speech. He must go and 
 talk to some one ; if not he would become dumb. 
 Swiftly he made his way back to the Hekdish. By 
 the smouldering flare of a tallow stump he saw 
 
THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 183 
 
 Genendel sitting up on her couch, rocking herself 
 to and fro in lamentation. 
 
 " Here comes the thief," she shrieked, as Jonah 
 stepped in ; " what have you done with it ? Give 
 it back at once — at once. Have I not seen you 
 casting big eyes on it for a long time t Only I 
 was watchful ; but in an evil hour — where is it — 
 where is it ? " 
 
 Jonah was taken aback ; he had forgotten all 
 about his theft. 
 
 " I have nothing of yours — let me alone," he said. 
 
 But Genendel had only just started. " So truly 
 may you live till to-morrow," she answered. And 
 then out came her maledictions and vituperations, 
 yards and yards of them. 
 
 Jonah was silent, he could answer nothing — he 
 who usually was so fluent wherever there was evil 
 talk, especially when his was the wrong cause. 
 Strange that it should seem so manifestly wrong to 
 have appropriated Genendel's belonging — it was a 
 new sensation to him. There was a lot of good in 
 him, Malka had said. Perhaps this feeling was 
 some of it ; if it was, he did not know it — had she 
 not said that as well ? And if he knew not how 
 much good he contained, he probably also knew 
 not how much evil ; and more than all, how could 
 he tell which was the good and which was the evil ? 
 And the way to be a joy to God in heaven was, no 
 doubt, to distinguish between the two, separate the 
 grain from the chaff, and he would want someone 
 to show him how to handle the winnowing fan. 
 Was that what she had meant when she had 
 assured him of her help ? 
 
 Meantime Genendel's imprecations were whizzing 
 round his head, threatening him with undreamt of 
 visitations ; but for all he heard of them, they 
 might have been phrases of endearment. And 
 
l84 THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 
 
 when Genendel thought she had cursed him enough, 
 she threw herself back on her pillow to watch for its 
 speedy effect. Jonah seized upon the lull. 
 
 " Tell me, Genendel, dear," he said timorously, 
 " You are so old in the wisdom of the world — what 
 does it mean when one is always thinking of a 
 woman, and can't get her out of his mind ? " 
 
 Genendel laughed shrilly. *' Can't get her out of 
 his mind ? " she squeaked ; " listen to that ! The 
 fool has fallen in love with a girl, and asks me what 
 it means. Let me tell you one thing, though : take 
 care it is not Malka, Anshel's daughter, because 
 to-morrow night she will be betrothed to Joseph, 
 that is no better than you, being a boy of the 
 Hekdish. Did you hear, Solomon? Jonah has 
 fallen in love — what do you think of it ? " 
 
 " I don't know," moaned the idiot. '* I can't find 
 it at all — in all the three Tractates there is no 
 passage that you may not bake bread wherein 
 barley and wheat are mixed. I can't find it, Rabbi 
 Nahum — the heat has melted it away." 
 
 Jonah was holding his head tightly with both 
 hands ; otherwise it must have burst asunder. 
 Could it be true ? Could Providence make a 
 human being the victim of such devilry ? But it 
 was no use questioning ; he might as well leave 
 to-morrow to give him the answer. Till to-morrow, 
 then, he would hope ; there would be plenty of 
 time for despair afterwards. 
 
 With the first break of dawn he was up and out 
 in the woods where he lurked — only to be in 
 solitude, so that no chance word might reach his 
 ear confirming the dread tidings. She had told 
 him to come at dusk ; he dared not disobey her 
 and come before. How slowly the day crept on — 
 it seemed to have got entangled in the branches of 
 the trees, and could not make its usual headway. 
 
THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 185 
 
 But at last the darkness came down, and Jonah 
 stood outside Anshel's house. He looked at it ; 
 was there any meaning in the many lights and the 
 sounds of bustle and gaiety that came floating out 
 on the evening air? Stealthily he crept through 
 the hedge of the courtyard to the shed where the 
 grindstone stood. Eagerly he groped in the dark 
 for the parcel which Malka had promised to leave 
 for him there ; he found nothing — he had come a 
 fool's errand. He gnashed his teeth ; so much for 
 her promises. 
 
 Already he was back at the fence, but then his 
 jealous fear held him to the spot with an iron grip. 
 He would at least find out if this was true concern- 
 ing her and Joseph. I fit was 
 
 Outside the house stood an apple tree ; hand 
 over hand he scrambled to the top, and rode out 
 upon the longest branch to the very end, risking 
 life and limb. And then he had his reward ; he 
 could see it all quite plainly — the roomful of 
 laughing guests, Joseph and Malka in the centre, 
 their hands clasped, her head on his shoulder. . . . 
 For an instant he hung on the sight, till his heart 
 had had time to get numbed and petrified, and then 
 with a muttered curse he swung down again to the 
 ground. During the few moments of his descent 
 his plan had ripened in his mind. Quickly he 
 wrenched open his clasp-knife and tested it on 
 edge and point ; it was blunt as a drumstick. But 
 that could be remedied. Back again he crawled 
 through the hedge to the shed, moved the grindstone 
 into position and commenced turning the handle 
 with his right hand while his left held the blade ; 
 and with every gyration of the machine his blood 
 eddied in him more tumultuously, circling through 
 him in a maddened vortex, carrying his senses 
 with it in its furious whirl. He was glad of it: now 
 
i86 THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 
 
 he felt ready for everything — this was the fitting 
 mood in which he ought always to face the world 
 and wreak his vengeance on it. 
 
 Cunningly he chuckled to himself What a 
 sensation it would make ! How everybody would 
 talk ! He, Jonah, whom they all had passed off 
 with a discreet shoulder-shrug, would be on every 
 man's lips ; it was glorious. And so he ground 
 on, till the sparks flew from the glittering steel — 
 and all at once he became aware of another light 
 that was hurrying towards the shed, and the next 
 instant he saw Malka running up breathlessly, with 
 a small stable lantern in one hand. 
 
 " Are you there, Jonah ? " she whispered. " I am 
 so sorry I forgot about your provisions, and so I 
 stole away now on some pretext — here they are ; 
 eat them in honour of my day of joy — why, Jonah, 
 what is it ? " 
 
 The gleam of the lantern had lighted on Jonah's 
 face, and she saw his eyes set so staringly, his 
 cheeks ashy pale, and his hand was clenching the 
 murderous implement. 
 
 " What is that for ? '* she asked, pointing to it. 
 
 Jonah kept silent for a moment, and then his 
 words rushed forth in a torrent : 
 
 " That was for your Joseph — I was going to wait 
 till he came out, and I would have stabbed him to 
 the heart there and then — but for your sake, Malka, 
 for your sake. . . .'* 
 
 A cob wrenched itself from his bosom — another 
 and then his head was buried in his hands, and his 
 body shook and heaved with the working of his 
 soul. 
 
 She bent down and whispered in his ear: "Don't 
 you see, Jonah ? This is God's finger laying itself 
 on your life and pointing to the spot whence it is 
 to turn its current. Have mercy on yourself and 
 
THE RECLAIMED PLEDGE. 187 
 
 follow the bidding, and I shall do what I can to 
 make it easier for you. Here are ten roubles of 
 my savings — go far from here, where the shadow 
 of the past cannot reach you. This thing," she 
 stooped and picked up the knife that had fallen 
 unheeded to the ground, " this thing I shall keep 
 in pledge for you, and one day you shall come to 
 claim it — one day when you shall have gained the 
 mastery over your evil desires, your baser thoughts, 
 of which this is the emblem. Good bye, brother 
 of mine — and may your life go well with you." 
 
 The next morning Genendel nearly had a fit 
 when she woke up and found two roubles, neatly 
 wrapped up in a piece of paper, by the side of 
 her bed ; but the last thought to enter her mind 
 was to connect them in any way with Jonah's 
 mysterious disappearance. 
 
 As for Jonah — well, be it remembered that the 
 end of this tale was told at the beginning. 
 
]V[ummet^ and ]V[oPalist. 
 
 EVERYBODY in the town called them 
 "Mella" and "Uscher," which is Yiddish for 
 *' Darby and Joan," or, more correctly, "Joan and 
 Darby," the Yiddish here showing off to greater 
 advantage than the English by its place aux dames. 
 This might give rise to the misapprehension that 
 Mella and Uscher were a married couple. So let 
 it be stated at once that both members of the 
 combination belonged to the male sex ; but as 
 they were more inseparable and did almost as 
 much quarrelling as most husbands and wives, 
 they had a fairly good right to the appellation. 
 Indeed, the nickname had so engrafted itself on 
 their own minds that they neither knew nor called 
 each other by anything else. The two had come 
 to Borstchick on their travels — the idea must not 
 suggest tourist tickets — and either Mella or Uscher, 
 they had long forgotten which — had fallen ill and 
 had been nursed well again at the '* Hekdisch," 
 the itinerant paupers' ward. Out of gratitude they 
 had resolved to make the town a gift of their 
 valuable presences. They were now almost middle- 
 aged men, and acted as factotums to the little 
 place. They went errands, executed commissions, 
 did a little corn-brokering, helped to make the 
 prayer-quorum at houses of mourning, and by 
 
MUMMER AND MORALIST, 189 
 
 all sorts of odd jobs tried to keep their balance- 
 sheet even. 
 
 If they could at all be said to have a profession, 
 apart from being jacks-of-all-trades, it would be 
 that of "batchan," or " poyatz," or " marshallik," 
 all of which mean accredited buffoons who s^ive 
 their entertainments on occasions of family 
 festivities. In private, the two had come to look 
 upon each other as flesh of one flesh and bone of 
 one bone, and the scurrilous abuse which they 
 levelled against one another on most occasions 
 was merely the overflow of their mutual affections, 
 besides keeping their hands, or, rather, their 
 tongues, in at their business. So, for instance, 
 Mella was small and wizened, Uscher large and 
 fleshly, and this would give rise to comments of 
 this sort : — 
 
 " Mella, I have an idea you will never die ; and 
 why ? Because it is only people with souls that 
 die — but where is there room for a soul in a midget 
 like you?" 
 
 "And when you die, Uscher,'* would be the quick 
 retort, " the angel of death will ask the Almighty 
 for a new slaughtering-knife ; and why ? Because 
 he will think he has slaughtered a pig in error." 
 
 " Transgressor in Israel ! " 
 
 " Eater of swine's flesh ! " 
 
 " Apostate ! " 
 
 " Sabbath-drudge ! " 
 
 " That reminds me," continued Uscher as if 
 nothing had happened, " that reminds me that 
 you have not yet breakfasted ; you must be 
 hungry. Let me run to Lieb Klapka, the huckster, 
 and fetch bread and herrings." 
 
 "No, Uscher, let me go myself — it is very wet: 
 your boots leak, and you have a cough." 
 
 " Don't prate, I 3hall go." 
 
190 MUMMER AMD MORALIST, 
 
 " Mo, I shall." 
 
 " Obstinate." 
 
 " Sheep's head." 
 
 " Fool's carcase." 
 
 " Beast of the field." And so the tussle would 
 begin over again. 
 
 But despite the numerous strings to their bow, 
 things were sometimes very fine-cut m the Mella- 
 cum-Uscher household, especially in winter, when 
 open-air transactions became very irksome. And 
 therefore it seemed to them a special dispensation 
 of Providence that just in winter should fall the 
 Jewish festivals whereon merry-making is much 
 encouraged. First, though somewhat early in the 
 season, comes the Rejoicing in the Law. Then 
 there is the Festival of Lights, on which the 
 memory of the Maccabees is made much of, and 
 finally the Feast of Lots. Of the three, Mella and 
 Uscher preferred the Festival of Lights by a long 
 way. For one thing, it spreads over eight days, 
 and therefore gives wide scope for a good harvest. 
 It is also a favourite time for engagement parties 
 and marriages, when the hearts of men are light, 
 and a copeck or two is not a matter of much 
 account. Consequently, Mella and Uscher made 
 good use of their opportunities, mapping out a 
 seven nights' programme ; the eighth, of course, 
 was accounted for by the intervening Friday eve, 
 when the handling of money, even in charity, is 
 among things forbidden. Every evening they 
 made a raid on another house, confining themselves 
 to men of note in the congregation, and, by 
 preference, to those who were celebrating some 
 joyous event. 
 
 When Uscher came home on the day preceding 
 this particular Festival of Lights he found Mella 
 looking thoughtful and downcast. 
 
MUMMER AND MORALIST. 191 
 
 " What ails you, you scum of the earth ? " he 
 asked solicitously. 
 
 " I will tell you," replied Mella, for once neglect- 
 ing to return the compliment. " I have been 
 thinking over this poyatz business of ours, and I 
 have become very dissatisfied with it." 
 
 " No doubt," jeered Uscher, " you would prefer 
 to be made warden of the congregation — an evil 
 spirit into your father ! " 
 
 "Not that," went on Mella, heedless of the 
 imprecation ; " but it has struck me it is not fit 
 and proper for men of our years to play antics in 
 public, and call each other names, and to bespatter 
 one the other with abuse just to make people laugh. 
 Of course, what we do when by ourselves, and 
 for our own diversion, is a different matter. But 
 yesterday I found a grey hair in my beard, and — 
 and Uscher, as I live, I blushed and thanked God 
 I have no children. 
 
 " Yes, it is true," agreed Uscher, becoming very 
 serious ; " but how is a bear first made to dance ? 
 He is put on an oven-plate, with his forefeet over 
 the fire, and when they begin to feel hot, he tries 
 to stand upon his hind-feet, which are on a spot 
 where the oven is cold. In the same way I feel 
 hot and cold at one and the same time, when I 
 think of how to get my livelihood — and, therefore, 
 I dance. What are we to do ? " 
 
 " That is the difficult part," said Mella mourn- 
 fully. " I have been racking my brain over it all 
 the morning. If we had a few hundred roubles 
 we might set up a shop and make good bargains 
 and live respectably. But who is to %yw^ us a few 
 hundred roubles .-* " 
 
 " Who ? " echoed Uscher, in sepulchral tone. 
 
 The two sat silent. After a while Mella re- 
 sumed. " I have an idea. We can certainly not 
 
192 MUMMER AND MORALIST. 
 
 give up the poyatz business for the present ; but," 
 and a hopeful look came into his eyes, " we can 
 improve it." 
 
 Uscher looked up interrogatively. 
 
 " Yes," continued Mella, " instead of playing 
 farces and buffooneries, can we not concoct a piece 
 that has a moral in it — something to instruct and 
 elevate the minds of those who listen ? What else 
 does the Maggid, the travelling preacher ? He 
 tells the people stories, and from them they draw 
 a conclusion how to act and how not to act. And 
 you see with what respect he is treated wherever 
 he comes. Let us try also to please and teach 
 people, without making a laughing-stock of our- 
 selves. Look here." 
 
 He rummaged in a tattered portfolio, until he 
 succeeded in fishing out a dilapidated manuscript. 
 
 " This is from my elder brother, who is Precentor 
 and Slaughterer in Skulm — a great scholar," he ex- 
 plained with pride. " He sent it me three years 
 ago, it may be — see, it is written in the holy 
 language. Ah, poyatz though I am, I have not 
 forgotten all I learned in the Talmud Academy at 
 Vilosen. Come, listen." 
 
 He spread the sheet carefully on the table, took 
 out his horn-rimmed spectacles, and translated : 
 
 " To my beloved brother, towards whom my 
 soul is stretching out its arms in loving desire. 
 Verily, it is a long time since news has passed 
 between us, and I write this to ascertain if thou art 
 indeed yet to be counted among the living." 
 
 " What has that to do with your idea ? " queried 
 Uscher, impatiently. 
 
 "Wait a minute," said Mella, and read on 
 leisurely : 
 
 " It is in truth a sad and sorrowful thing that 
 sons of one father and mother should dwell 
 
MUMMER AND MORALIST. 193 
 
 asunder. But complaint is the fool's remedy for 
 sorrow. Rather will I proceed to give thee tidings 
 concerning myself In the first place, then, my 
 wife has — praised be the Name — borne me yet 
 another daughter, so that the number of my 
 offspring has risen to twelve — a holy number, 
 inasmuch as such was the total of the tribes of 
 Israel." 
 
 " May the tribes of Israel be damaged," shouted 
 Uscher recklessly ; " why don't you come to the 
 root of the matter ? " 
 
 " I am coming to it now," and Mella resumed 
 with much more expedition : " As to the question 
 of my fortunes, they are such as they are, only 
 somewhat worse than they should be — praised be 
 the Name — especially as Peretz Wedel, who was 
 the butcher of most account in the neighbourhood, 
 has left the tov.n, so that there has been great abate- 
 ment in my source of income from slaughtering." 
 
 " May you and your brother and Peretz Wedel 
 all meet in Gehennom," cried Uscher, exasperated. 
 
 " Presently, presently," said Mella, preoccupied 
 with his letter, which continued thus : — 
 
 " But the way and manner in which Peretz Wedel 
 left the town is a thing calling for special comment, 
 and I shall relate to thee in all detail in what 
 fashion he parted from his wife. For I was at the 
 time in my slaughter-house, sharpening my knife 
 for the geese which at this season are killed in 
 great numbers, and it happens that the poultry- 
 shambles are divided from Peretz Wedel's dwelling 
 only by a thin partition. For he lived close by, 
 he being: the Treasurer for the Krupka, the killing- 
 tax, to wit. So listen, for it will give thee great 
 insight into the ways of certain men in the treat- 
 ment of their wives." 
 
 Mella paused, out of breath, and looked sig- 
 
194 MUMMER AND MORALIST. 
 
 nificantly at Uscher. Then he recommenced his 
 reading, and Uscher at first listened with a sullen 
 look on his face. Then gradually his eyes bright- 
 ened with interest, and as Mella ran on, the 
 narrative gripped him and held his attention till 
 the end. 
 
 " I see your meaning now," he said, when Mella 
 had stopped; "you would have us rehearse this 
 scene which took place between Peretz and his 
 wife, so that husbands may take warning not to go 
 and do likewise." 
 
 " That was exactly my meaning," replied Mella ; 
 " let us learn the words such as they are transcribed 
 in my brother's letter, and when we go into the 
 houses and are called upon to entertain the as- 
 sembly, we shall set forth this thing as it happened. 
 And there will be no need to make grimaces, but 
 we must speak the words with a countenance no 
 less staid than the Maggid's." 
 
 " I am of your mind entirely," said Uscher, " only 
 let us hasten, for to-morrow the festival begins." 
 
 " And to-morrow, too, is the Tnoyim at Benjamin 
 the baker's, when his daughter is to be promised 
 in marriage to Rummle Klinker, the cattle dealer, 
 and there is to be a great feast. And where is it a 
 more fitting place to speak of these things than in 
 the presence of those who are shortly to be joined 
 in wedlock ? " 
 
 " Where, indeed ? Tell me, Mella, who is this 
 Rummle Klinker?" 
 
 " There you know as much as I do — how he 
 came here two, or it may be three, years ago, and 
 being possessed of some little wealth, as it appeared, 
 and being withal no stupid-head, soon became a 
 man of note in the congregation ; and being, more- 
 over, a bachelor, though no more in his first youth, 
 he was in great request for a son-in-law among the 
 
MUMMER AND MORALIST. 195 
 
 masters of houses. And now he Is going to marry 
 Blumah, the baker's daughter, the prettiest girl in 
 the town." 
 
 " They say there is not much love in the mat- 
 ter—on her side," said Uscher in a half-whisper. 
 
 " They say," echoed Mella scornfully. " I can 
 swear to it ; not for nothing have I gone in and 
 out of Benjamin's house these many years. The 
 bridegroom she would like to have is Rophel the 
 sexton's son — a golden young man, I tell you — a 
 head on wheels ; did he not pass all the eight 
 classes of the Gymnasium in two years — over- 
 night, so to speak? But, then he is poor, and a 
 poor man's knowledge dies in his belly, as the 
 saying is. I should give two copecks to the charity 
 box if some miracle should happen and Rophel 
 should marry Blumah after all." 
 
 " What is the use of talking about miracles ? " 
 said the more matter-of-fact Uscher ; " can you 
 perform miracles? \{ you can, pray make me a 
 millionaire immediately. What difference does it 
 make who marries Blumah ? Rather let us come 
 to, the business in hand." 
 
 Thereupon commenced an eager discussion how 
 the whole thing was to be arranged. The appor- 
 tioning of the parts was an easy question, in which 
 they were mainly guided by their respective phy- 
 siques, Uscher being cut out for the husband, and 
 Mella for the wife. The question of costume was 
 also satisfactorily settled. All that was necessary 
 would be a skirt and a shawl for Mella, and though 
 his scraggy little beard somewhat discounted him 
 as a type of perfect femininity, all the more scope 
 would be left to the audience for exercising their 
 powers of idealisation. The whole day long they 
 went hammer and tongs at the rehearsing of their 
 parts, and on the morrow they felt certain that this 
 
196 MUMMER AND MORALIST. 
 
 new departure in their line of business would effect 
 a great sensation. 
 
 The whole town was astir with the engagement 
 of Blumah, the baker's daughter, to Rummle 
 Klinker, the rich cattle dealer. " Bread to meat, 
 a good match," the joke went round. Everybody 
 who was anybody had been invited and intended 
 coming; and in honour of the occasion old Ben- 
 jamin had baked a Sabbath loaf, which for dimen- 
 sions, was the eighth wonder of the world. In 
 the evening the reception-room was lighted up by 
 nine candelabra, seven of which Mother Riffka 
 borrowed from the neighbours. 
 
 At the head of the table sat Blumah and 
 Rummle ; the former pale, her eyes downcast with 
 a suspicion of redness, the result of weeping, about 
 them. But then it was natural ; was she not soon 
 to leave her parents' house? Rummle had a smug 
 and complacent air, an impression produced chiefly 
 by a lavish expanse of loud-coloured waistcoat. 
 Every now and then he shot a sideway glance at 
 his silent bride, to find out what caused that 
 startled shiver to run through her each time he 
 took her hand in his. At the farthest end of the 
 room, crouching back deep into the window niche, 
 sat Rophel, the gymnasiast who had passed the 
 eight classes of the High School in two years, 
 and wondered if by passing eight more he might 
 learn how to drive the gnawing pain out of his 
 heart. 
 
 Suddenly a stir ran round the gathering. 
 
 " The players have come," went from mouth to 
 mouth ; " now we shall hear something — no doubt 
 they will excel themselves to-night." 
 
 A burst of uproarious laughter greeted Mella 
 and Uscher as they entered. They were used to 
 this kind of reception, and therefore did not feel 
 
MUMMER AND MORALIST, 197 
 
 disconcerted. So they waited till the merriment 
 had subsided, and then Mella stepped forward and 
 said : 
 
 " My masters, it has hitherto been our custom to 
 amuse you with clown tricks and with things that 
 provoke much laughter. But, henceforth, it is our 
 resolve to be no longer poyatzes, but, by enacting 
 scenes of serious import to teach you lessons with 
 regard to the ordering of your lives. And for a 
 sample we shall submit to your approval a tragedy 
 entitled, ' The Deserted Wife.' " 
 
 Scarcely had he finished, when the laughter 
 broke out again with redoubled force. Mella and 
 Uscher play a tragedy — the " Deserted Wife," with 
 Mella, as was evident from his get-up, in the title 
 role — it was too funny ! Even the sad-faced 
 Blumah indulged in a momentary smile, and 
 Rophel, who was devouring her from behind the 
 window-drapery, felt a sullen anger shoot through 
 him ; how could she smile when he was aching 
 himself crazy with secret sorrow ? The only one 
 who, to the watchful eye of Uscher, seemed to be 
 taking the matter in its proper light, was the 
 bridegroom himself. He kept quite serious — 
 indeed, so serious, that he could pour himself out 
 a glass of neat brandy with a steady hand, and 
 swallow it at one gulp. And Rummle Klinker was 
 probably old enough to know what a dangerous 
 thing it is to pour raw spirits down one's throat, 
 if one feels the slightest inclination to laugh. 
 Mella was right — Rummle was, indeed, no stupid- 
 head, and therefore would, Uscher hoped, value 
 their services at their full worth. 
 
 Much encouraged by this reflection, Uscher 
 determined to put his heart and soul into the busi- 
 ness. Quickly a space was cleared for the stage, 
 and the requisite scenery furnished in the shape of 
 
198 MUMMER AND MORALIST. 
 
 a stool. The piece bep^an with a soliloquy of 
 Mella, who, seated on the said stool, commenced 
 to rock himself violently, pulled at his hair with 
 great gusto, and gave other indications of being in 
 a perturbed state of mind. 
 
 " Oh, a sorrow has come upon my young years — 
 a destruction and a blight on my innocent blood," 
 he wailed. " Woe, woe is me — what have I done 
 to deserve this } Have I not duly taken tithe of 
 the dough for the Sabbath bread — have I not 
 sanctified the candles every Friday eve — have I not 
 strictly kept apart the crockery that may be used 
 for meat, and that which may be used for butter ? 
 Have I not observed all the injunctions which our 
 Holy Law has laid upon us housewives ? But it 
 was all in vain, and I shall be left solitary with my 
 two little children whom their father has cast off, 
 for an evil spirit has crept into his understanding — 
 Vy, vy, vy, woe is me ! " 
 
 This was the cue for Uscher to come on ; but it 
 was taken up instead by the audience, which had 
 been struggling with its mirth, and now let it 
 escape in a tremendous guffaw. The idea of Mella 
 performing the duties of a Jewish matron, Mella 
 deserted with two little children — it was scream- 
 ingly absurd ! 
 
 Uscher looked round indignantly. The block- 
 heads ! Could they not grasp that all this was 
 meant in earnest } And then he caught Rummle's 
 face ; it looked sober and serious. Here at least 
 was a man of intelligence, who saw the drift and 
 purpose of their action, and no doubt would 
 explain it to the others. So seizing on a momen- 
 tary lull, he strutted up and addressed Mella. 
 
 " Art thou not a piece of folly ? What is the use 
 of thy lamentations? I tell thee my resolve is 
 fixed ; not all the rains ^hat fall between Holy 
 
MUMMER AND MORALIST. 199 
 
 Convocation and the first day of Passover shall 
 wash it away." 
 
 At this place Mella did not give the audience 
 time to laugh, but went on at once : 
 
 " Peretz, why art thou determined to put this 
 shame upon me? When I shall go out, the 
 women will point their fingers at me and jeer : 
 ' Look, there she goes Who gave her husband the 
 topmost of the potatoes, and the bottommost of 
 the soup, and, therefore, he has left her to her own 
 devices.' " 
 
 " I do not care what the women will say — that is 
 their business ; but as for me, I cannot help that 
 God has put this distaste for thee into my heart. 
 And, therefore, is it not the best thing for the pair 
 of us that I should get me gone, inasmuch as it 
 will save us wrangling and quarrelling such as 
 must need result where the husband and wife are 
 not of one understanding ? As soon as I can, I 
 shall send thee the divorce by two witnesses." 
 
 " I shall not take thy divorce," shrieked Mella. 
 " I shall wait till God has changed thy mind and 
 thou returnest. Oh, Peretz. what is to become of 
 me and our two little ones ? " 
 
 " What is to become of you ? " cried Uscher, with 
 great show of exasperation. " Do ye go and die 
 the healthiest death ye can find ; and do not wait 
 for my return, for I am going away to find myself a 
 maiden with a face and a pair of shoulders " 
 
 Uscher could not go on, for here a great burst of 
 hilarity interrupted his speech. Trembling with 
 anger, he cast his eyes round the gathering, which 
 had turned into a screaming, kicking, side-shaking 
 mass of laughing humanity. But when he looked 
 at Rummle, a great fright came over him, for 
 Rummle's face was the colour of chalk, and his 
 eyes were starting from their sockets. 
 
200 MUMMER AND MORALIST. 
 
 " The bridegroom — look," he cried, at the top of 
 his voice, pointing to Rummle. In an instant 
 every gaze was fastened on the latter. 
 
 " It is nothing," said Rummle, thrusting away 
 those who had rushed to his assistance ; " the heat 
 has overpowered me — see, I can stand again firmly 
 on my feet, but I beg you will excuse me for leaving 
 you. A good night's rest will be the best medicine 
 for me. Let not the festivity be interrupted on my 
 account." 
 
 A great confusion followed his words, in the 
 midst of which he made his escape. The guests 
 prepared to take their leave — it was stupid : who 
 ever heard of an engagement party without a bride- 
 groom ? And when the young men who had 
 followed Rummle to his house came back and 
 reported that he had locked his door and would not 
 admit anyone, there was much whispering and 
 shaking of heads ; it did not seem as though the 
 blessing of Heaven rested on the match. Rophel 
 had somehow elbowed his way to Blumah, and if 
 they clasped hands for a moment and looked deep 
 into each other's eyes, there could be no wrong in 
 it. Had not Rummle gone away without putting 
 a ring on Blumah's finger } 
 
 Mella and Uscher slunk home as disconsolately 
 as wolves with scalded hides. They had been 
 hustled out somewhat unceremoniously, and, of 
 course, there could be no thought of making the 
 customary collection. 
 
 " Satan, the envious, has caused this confusion," 
 said Mella, sadly ; " he was afraid that the moral 
 of our tale would turn the hearts of men from 
 evil. For he knew how cunningly we had tricked 
 it out with words of advice and exhortation, and 
 the best part was yet to come. Ah ! the moral of 
 it — the beautiful moral of it." 
 
MUMMER AND MORALIST. 201 
 
 " Pickle your moral in vinegar and onions," 
 growled Uscher, who took the occurrence less 
 philosophically ; " for, at this rate of payment, it is 
 all you are likely to have for breakfast, dinner and 
 supper." 
 
 " Do not lose heart," said Mella reassuringly ; 
 " remember this is only the first eve of the festival ; 
 we shall recoup ourselves on the others." 
 
 This was Mella's honest intention, which only 
 one unforeseen circumstance interfered with. On 
 the following morning he found that, consequent on 
 the difference of temperature between the warm 
 room and. the cold night air, he had contracted a 
 severe chill, which in turn contracted his throat, 
 and only allowed his voice to come forth in the 
 shadow and semblance of its usual self This 
 naturally precluded any immediate idea of repeating 
 the performance. Uscher watched him, looking 
 haggard and woe-begone, but without a murmur at 
 their ill-luck. About mid-day he went out for a 
 little while to fetch provisions, and when he came 
 back his face had the air of one who brings strange 
 tidings. 
 
 " Do you know, Mella, that the bridegroom of 
 yesterday, Rummle Klinker, has left the town > " 
 
 "Well, he will come back," croaked Mella 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " That he will not, because he has disposed of his 
 household and his business. Very early this 
 morning he came to Lieb Klapka, the huckster, 
 who just told me the tale, and before the people 
 had come from the morning service the whole 
 transaction was done — Lieb had bought the 
 property, not at a loss to himself, as he says, and 
 Rummle had started on his journey. Whither he 
 has gone no one knows." 
 
 " What does one not hear ! " said Mella, shaking 
 
202 MUMMER AXD MORAL /ST. 
 
 his head as much as his stiff neck would allow 
 him ; " and now, perhaps, Rophel will marry 
 Blumah." 
 
 " My trouble," commented Uscher, implying it 
 was not his trouble, and that he had other things to 
 concern him. 
 
 And, indeed, all day he was busy nursing his 
 comrade, poulticing him, applying fomentations, 
 and attending to his every little want, the same as 
 a mother to her sick child. When the evening 
 came, Mella grew restless. 
 
 " Are you in pain .? " queried Uscher. 
 
 " No, but I think you should go out and see 
 what you can do for the earning of a few copecks. 
 I don't speak for my own interest. Remember I am 
 sick, and my appetite is not over great, but hunger 
 will press heavily on you who have a healthy 
 stomach." 
 
 " What, go out and leave you alone with your 
 sickness?" cried Uscher, indignantly. "If I 
 should hunger, all the more necessity is there for 
 me to make you well as quickly as possible, so 
 that we may both go speedily about our business." 
 
 Mella did not insist, only when Uscher brought 
 him the hot gruel, he caught his hand and pressed 
 it tightly, and looked at him with tear-g;littering 
 eyes. 
 
 However, despite Uscher's ministrations, Mella's 
 illness dragged for over a week, and then his con- 
 valescence required almost another week for itself 
 On the first day he could sally forth he received a 
 surprise in the shape of a letter from his brother, 
 the precentor and licensed slaughterer of Skulm — 
 the first one since that which had given him the 
 suggestion of becoming a great moralist. 
 
 " To my dear loved brother, the sight of whom 
 may God grant me as a balsam for my soul," Mella 
 
MUMMER AND MORALIST. 203 
 
 read aloud for the benefit of Uscher, who looked 
 inquisitive. 
 
 " Though it be only after the passing of much 
 time that my hand is stretched forth to give thee 
 tidings, verily in my heart thou art not forgotten. 
 These then are the things I have to tell of. 
 
 " In the matter of children I have no further 
 increase to report. The two eldest are wedded 
 happily, and the others are growing up as cedars 
 on Mount Lebanon, gladdening my eyes with their 
 goodliness. Also in the matter of my livelihood I 
 have — praised be the Name — tidings of a joyful 
 nature ; and the improvement thereof is due to the 
 same cause to which was due the falling-off. And 
 the wonder of the whole thing is so strong upon 
 me, that I must needs relate to thee the matter in 
 all detail. Perhaps it still dwells in thy memory 
 what I wrote to thee in my last epistle concerning one 
 named Peretz Wedel, the same who was Overseer 
 of the Krupka, with regard to the casting-otf of his 
 wife. As for the woman, she herself is virtuous and 
 God-fearing, a pearl among the matrons of Israel. 
 And all during her husband's absence she uttered 
 no word of reproach, but spent her time in fasting 
 and praying that God might make him of a better 
 mind, nor did she teach her children to curse the 
 name of their father, as might well betide under the 
 circumstances. And who shall say that the Lord 
 of the Universe does not hearken to the voice of 
 His righteous ones ? For listen what miracle was 
 effected on her behalf 
 
 " A week ago, or a little more, I happened to be 
 seated in my slaughter-box, sharpening my knives 
 as usual when there is nothing to do ; and suddenly, 
 from the other side of the wall, where is the apart- 
 ment wherein the woman dwelt with her children 
 — one single room, whereas before she had inhabited 
 
204 MUMMER AND MORALIST. 
 
 the whole house — suddenly, as I said, I heard a 
 shriek, so loud that my hand swerved and a serious 
 blemish was caused to the knife, which it cost me 
 an hour's labour to remove. And subsequent 
 upon the shriek I heard a man's voice speaking, 
 and my soul shook within me, for I recognised it 
 as the voice of Peretz Wedel, the runaway husband, 
 and the words he was saying were these : — 
 
 " ' Channa, I was within a hair's breadth of com- 
 mitting a great sin which would make me accursed 
 in the world to come, but God had mercy on me, 
 and in a good hour sent me a sign from Heaven. 
 Therefore have I come back to thee, and if thy 
 heart is not poisoned against me by my cruelty to 
 thee and my little children, take me back, and let 
 all be forgotten.' 
 
 " And then there was a sound of sobbing, inter- 
 spersed with such detonations as are caused when 
 two kiss each other on the mouth violently. 
 
 " But this is not all ; for from certain indications, 
 I have ascertained that during his absence, Peretz 
 abided in the town of Borstchick, which is the self- 
 same town where thou art a house-master, respected 
 and beloved by all, as thou sayest, for which God 
 be thanked. And to recall him to thy mind, if his 
 name be not familiar to thee, I shall ^\m^ thee 
 certain marks of his appearance. He is of great 
 girth about the waist, and on his forehead is a wart, 
 not so large as the horn which God caused to ap- 
 pear on the forehead of Queen Vashti when she 
 was summoned into the presence of King Achash- 
 verush, but certainly of considerable size. And over 
 his left eye there is no hair-covering, for the brow 
 was singed away when he was quite a boy " 
 
 Mella paused suddenly and looked at Uscher, 
 who returned his glance dispassionately. 
 
 " Don't you see, Uscher ? " he cried excitedly. 
 
MUMMER AND MORALIST. 205 
 
 " See what ? " 
 
 " Whom he means — the hairless eyebrow, the wart 
 on the forehead — don't you see who it is ? " 
 
 " Then speak, in God's name — who is it ? " cried 
 Uscher, catching the excitement. 
 
 " Why, none other than Rummle KHnker ; has 
 he not a wart on ? " 
 
 " Cry shame on my stupidity," gasped Uscher, 
 throwing up his hands. " I have a pumpkin on me 
 for a head — of course it is he, and " 
 
 " And the sign from Heaven is the piece we acted, 
 giving the exact words of his disownment, such as 
 my brother transcribed them to me faithfully," 
 shrieked Mella. 
 
 The pair stood gaping at each other in dumb- 
 founded wonder. At last, Mella opened his mouth 
 and shouted triumphantly : 
 
 " Ah ! I knew it — the moral, the beautiful moral ; 
 has it not come home ? Have we not done more 
 than what ten Maggidim, preaching ten days, with 
 tongues ten yards long, could have effected ? " 
 
 "Yes, and we have received as much pay," 
 sneered Uscher. " Are you not an ass, Mella ? 
 The only one who has been benefited is Rummle's 
 wife — go and get your payment from her." 
 
 " It is enough for me to have been made the in- 
 strument of Providence," said Mella, piously. 
 
 " The instrument of Providence ! " echoed Uscher, 
 hotly. " Say, rather, you have meddled with Provi- 
 dence that intended you for nothing but a poyatz, 
 and certainly not for a moralist. And, therefore, 
 have you been punished ; for if you had kept to 
 your proper trade, what would have happened ? In 
 the first place, there would have been no disturb- 
 ance at Benjamin's house at the party, we should 
 not have frightened Rummle away, and we should 
 have been handsomely rewarded by him, not only 
 
206 MUMMER AND MORALIST. 
 
 at the Tnoyim, but also at the marriage feast which 
 was to have followed shortly. And further, you 
 could have made an orderly exit from the house, 
 duly protected against the night air, and then you 
 would not have fallen ill, and all the money we 
 might have earned during the festival would not 
 have been lost. And now," he flapped his arms 
 violently to beat down the protest he saw rising to 
 Mella's lips, " and now what have you got .'' Nothing 
 — nay, you are poorer by the two copecks which 
 you have vowed to the charity box, if Rophel 
 should marry Blumah ; and that he is going to 
 marry her I have on good authority. You see, 
 the blessing of God was not upon your doings. It 
 is willed we should eat our bread in humiliation." 
 
 Mella stood annihilated. " If it is indeed God's 
 will that I should be a poyatz all my lifetime, well 
 then, in God's name let it be ; but " 
 
 A knock at the door cut him short. It was the post- 
 man, who left a packet addressed to the two of them. 
 
 " Look, Uscher, it is franked and registered," 
 cried Mella ; " what does it contain ? " 
 
 " Open and see, you besom-stock," answered 
 Uscher, out of all patience. With trembling fingers, 
 Mella broke the seals and took out the contents — 
 brand new rouble notes, dozens of them ; five 
 hundred roubles in all. Right at the bottom lay a 
 scrap of paper with a few words scrawled on it, and 
 when Mella had blinked the tears of joy and terror 
 out of his eyes he read : 
 
 "A token of gratitude from one whom, by a patent 
 miracle of God, you saved from a great transgres- 
 sion." 
 
 " Say, Uscher," asked Mella, when he could feel 
 his words come less flutteringly, "do you still 
 think it is God's will we should be nothing but 
 poyatzes — laugh-makers ? " 
 
The GrandcbildPen. 
 
 GRANDMOTHER stood at the window, 
 mending a boy's coat. The coat could 
 hardly be called a thing of beauty ; there 
 was so much patchwork in it that you could not 
 distinguish the original material, though you 
 looked with two pairs of spectacles. The room in 
 which grandmother stood was of a piece with the 
 garment ; it was also made of rags, loam rags for 
 the walls and flooring, straw and shingle rags for 
 the roof 
 
 Grandmother's arms felt very tired ; she had 
 been holding them up for half-an-hour before she 
 had succeeded in threading her needle. Of course, 
 neither Yankel nor Yenta were at home to perform 
 that office for her ; they never were when she 
 wanted them, and always when she did not — 
 especially when they came back with empty 
 stomachs, and found that the emptiness had 
 become extended to the larder. Then Yenta 
 would cry, and Yankel would slink into the nearest 
 field and steal for himself a turnip. That was the 
 manner of life they led, the three of them, and it 
 was not a pleasant one. Grandmother thought so 
 just now ; she thought so at least three times in the 
 day, at the hours which properly constituted house- 
 holds set aside for meals. And so it had been ever 
 since her daughter and her daughter's husband had 
 been carried off by the dread plague, which had 
 made that part of the land a great charnel-house 
 five years ago ; and Yankel and Yenta and their 
 poverty were the only legacy they had left her. 
 
2o8 THE GRANDCHILDREN. 
 
 It was Yankel's coat she was at work on. She 
 was calculating : in four years he would be a Son 
 of the Commandments, and would be able to earn 
 a few copecks by helping Mordecai, the pedlar, 
 carry his packages through the neighbouring 
 villages ; and Yenta would be twelve, and could go 
 into service, if only to black boots and polish the 
 knives. That would be glorious — money coming 
 in from all sides, at least ninety copecks a week, 
 and then Granny herself could live at home in 
 luxury, instead of having to scavenge the little 
 town for odds and ends of victuals, in scorching 
 heat and drenching rain. It would be paradise to 
 rest her brittle limbs, instead of trudging down to 
 the Synagogue and standing outside to wait for her 
 dole, hustled and rough-shouldered by the other 
 beggars. She would be able to hold her head high, 
 on a level with other grandmothers whom God had 
 given sons and daughters to keep from the shame 
 of charity bread. Patience, patience ; she had 
 waited for a little happiness so long — hundreds of 
 years, perhaps — and now she had only four more 
 to wait — a mere fleabite of time, as one would say 
 — and she was quite young yet, only eighty, and 
 down in the village she knew three women who 
 had been grandmothers when she was yet a girl. 
 
 Once more she took up Yankel's coat and looked 
 to find a proper joining for the new patch. Hm ! 
 she must hold it a little higher to the light — it sud- 
 denly had got very dark — higher still — why, this 
 was a curious thing ; the higher she lifted it the 
 less she could see — a great shadow was floating 
 down from the ceiling across her eyes, across the 
 sun, across everything — surely it was not night } 
 It could hardly be more than two hours past noon, 
 for Yankel and Yenta had not yet come home for 
 their meal — ah, something went snap, snap in her 
 
THE GRANDCHILDREN. 209 
 
 head, tearing her brain to tatters. There was just 
 time for her to grope her way to the straw pallet 
 by the chimney — and there she lay : her happiness 
 had come to her sooner than she had thought. 
 
 Ten minutes after, Yankel and Yenta came 
 bounding into the room. 
 
 ** Give us our dinner," shouted Yankel, at the 
 top of his voice. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Yenta, with her finger on her lip. 
 There was a funny noise in the room — a husky rattle, 
 or rather a bubbling as of water through a blow-pipe. 
 " It's only the old woman asleep/* said Yankel, 
 indifferently. " Heigh, there ! " he shouted, ** leave 
 off snoring and give us our dinner — what do you 
 mean by sleeping in the middle of the day ? " 
 
 There was no answer, save the continued bub- 
 bling. Angrily Yankel stepped to the couch and 
 laid his hand on grandmother's shoulder ; it felt 
 stiff and edgy. 
 
 " If you don't get up instantly I shall break the 
 window, and then you will get toothache in your 
 joints from the draught," he cried. 
 
 This time there was a different answer. The 
 bubbling changed to a long-drawn-out breath, half 
 gulp, half sigh, and after that there was no more 
 bubbling, and no gulping or sighing. 
 
 Yankel stepped back, terrified at the sudden 
 silence. 
 
 " Get out of the light, Yenta," he whispered. 
 Yenta stepped round to the other side of the 
 pallet and bent down. 
 
 " Look how white she is — and how her jaw 
 drops, and she does not move or twine her fingers 
 in and out as she always does when she sleeps," she 
 remarked. 
 
 A thought had come to Yankel, and he uttered 
 it with fluttering voice. 
 
210 THE GRANDCHILDREl^. 
 
 " Yenta, I don't think she is asleep — I think she 
 is dead." 
 
 « Dead ? What's that ? " 
 
 " It means that she cannot give us any more 
 dinners, or go begging for bread and money," re- 
 plied Yankel. 
 
 And then he sat down and fell into a reverie, 
 lie had never much loved this grandmother of his. 
 She had given him too little food, and had made 
 him say too many prayers. All day long it went, 
 " Yankel, have you said grace after your meal — 
 have you said the afternoon service } Yes } I don't 
 believe you — say it at once — a little louder, I cannot 
 hear you — it is the beginning of the month to-day, 
 be careful to insert, 'May our remembrance rise.' " 
 Or, again, it would be : " To-day is Monday and 
 Thursday" — though, of course, it could only be 
 one or the other — " don't forget to say in full, 'And 
 He, being merciful.' " Sometimes he had come 
 home from the Talmud-school fainting and famish- 
 ing, and there had been nothing to eat, and all the 
 answer he had received to his threats about break- 
 ing the furniture and pulling the house down was 
 usually : " Sit down quietly and read a few psalms 
 — that will mean another slice of leviathan for 
 you when you come to Garden Eden." 
 
 And now he was safe against these admonitions ; 
 the old woman over there would never speak another 
 word. A sense of ease and liberty came over him — 
 he felt so free and unshackled. Now he need not 
 say any prayers unless he wanted to, and that was 
 quite a different thing to saying them under com- 
 pulsion. Now he could sleep as long as he liked, 
 and would not be aroused by the hateful cry : 
 " Yankel, Yankel, do you wish to say the * Hear, 
 O Israel ' after the permitted time } " He could 
 not have desired anything better, and Yankel felt 
 
THE GRANDCHILDREN'. 21 1 
 
 inclined to jump three feet into the air with delight 
 — and jump he did with a sudden thought which 
 had pricked him that instant Now that his 
 grandmother was dead he would have to say the 
 Kaddish, the Mourner's Sanctification, for her dur- 
 ing a whole year less a month. That was terrible 
 — it meant getting up soon after daybreak, going 
 to the Synagogue twice, and sometimes three times 
 a day, and sitting through the whole weariness of 
 the services. He knew how it would be. In the 
 mornins:, just as he was turning over on the other 
 side, the Belfer, the congregational factotum, would 
 come and call through the window : " Yankel, it is 
 time : come to prayer if you want your grand- 
 mother to lie at rest in her grave. " And perhaps 
 the snow might be piled outside as high as the lat- 
 tice. And in the afternoon again, just as he was 
 in the very heat of his games with the other boys, 
 some officious house-master, going along to the 
 Synagogue to make the quorum of Ten, would 
 seize him by the nape of his neck and drag him 
 along, exactly as had been the case with Lemmel 
 Twitchka when he lost his father. And Lemmel 
 had confided to Yankel that his sufferings during 
 that year had been terrible, and it was nothing 
 short of a miracle that he had not followed his 
 father in the course of it. What did Yankel care 
 whether his grandmother was at rest or not ? On 
 the contrary, to pray for her would be doing her an 
 injustice. She had done enough praying and sanc- 
 tifying during her lifetime, and one ought to give 
 her a chance of seeing whether she got into Para- 
 dise on her own merits or through adventitious 
 help. 
 
 " Yenta," he said, all at once, " we must go away 
 from here." 
 
 " What, and leave her ? " answered Yenta, point- 
 
212 THE GRANDCHILDREN. 
 
 ing to the still figure on the straw. She had been 
 gazing at it all the time, trying to recognise in it 
 the grandmother she had known. Despite Yankel's 
 explanation she still was not clear what it meant 
 to be dead, but from what she saw it must be some- 
 thing beyond the ordinary mysteries of life. 
 
 " Leave her ? Of course," said Yankel, in matter- 
 of-fact tone ; " why not ? " 
 
 " Oh, she looks so helpless," said Yenta. " Suppose 
 somebody came to do her an injury while we are 
 away, she could do nothing to prevent it." 
 
 " That's just the very reason," explained Yankel 
 sapiently; "she cannot help herself, and cannot 
 help us. We must go and find another grandmother, 
 or else we shall go hungry all day — nay, all the 
 year!" 
 
 Yenta saw the force of the argument and wavered. 
 "Could we not find a grandmother in the village.^" 
 she asked, to compromise the matter. 
 
 "What, in our village?" echoed Yankel disdain- 
 fully. " What is the good of them ? They are all 
 deaf or blind, and, besides, they each have at least 
 fifty grandchildren already. We must go to a big 
 town, where there are plenty to choose from." 
 
 Yenta looked thoughtful. " Isn't it funny that we 
 were born without a father and mother ? " she said 
 at last. 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing," replied Yankel, with a great 
 show of world-wisdom. " There are plenty of child- 
 ren like that ; but they had no grandmother either. 
 We did, you see, and therefore we can go to the 
 people and say : * Give us a new grandmother.' " 
 
 " If we went, we might as well look for something 
 better than a grandmother," said Yenta, taken with 
 a new idea. 
 
 "What's that?" inquired Yankel. 
 
 " A father ! " replied Yenta, triumphantly ; she 
 
THE GRANDCHILDREN. 213 
 
 was quite sure of producing an effect on her 
 audience. " Don't you know, Yankel, that all the 
 fathers in our village are strong, healthy men, who 
 can work very hard, without wheezing and groaning 
 as grandmother did when she had to do a little 
 washing ? And therefore they earn a lot of money, 
 and their children always go about with their crop 
 full. Don't you think it would be better to ask for 
 a father ? " 
 
 "To be sure," cried Yankel heartily, almost 
 forgetting the deceit he was practising on her in 
 the sincerity of his approval. " Come, let us start 
 at once ; it is only two thousand miles or so to the 
 next town, and we can walk that in a few hours. 
 We should get there just in time for supper." 
 
 " Do you know the way, Yankel } " 
 
 " Of course I do — straight along the forest," 
 replied Yankel, with great assurance ; " and now let 
 us see what we can take with us on the road." 
 
 He rummaged in the cupboard and found a 
 chunk of black bread, and a piece of curd cheese 
 that felt like a chip of white brick. Then they 
 stepped into the open. When they had gone a few 
 paces, Yenta stopped and said : " Wait a minute ; 
 I have forgotten something." 
 
 She ran back into the house, kissed the white 
 face on the pallet, and put the large prayer-book 
 into the stiff hands. She had been afraid to do so 
 while Yankel was there ; he would have laughed at 
 her. And then, without another look, she hurried 
 out to catch up her brother, who had been walking 
 on sturdily. The sunshine cast a golden haze over 
 copse and hedge ; the birds were chattering and 
 talking scandal on the trees, and people remarked 
 how beautifully they were singing ; the butterflies 
 were turning somersaults in the air for sheer delight. 
 Everywhere there was gladness and life — every- 
 
214 THE GRANDCHILDREN. 
 
 where save in the little loam hut which the two 
 children had just left behind, and that contained 
 something holier and godlier, for it was full of the 
 angel of peace, who heals long-aching wounds and 
 makes a truce between the angels of life and 
 suffering. 
 
 Yankel and Yenta had been walking a whole 
 hour, and the fatigue of the journey lay upon them 
 heavily ; and just then they reached the outskirts of 
 the forest, where the sun-glint rippled over the 
 leaves, and made each one of them seem a smile 
 of welcome. 
 
 " How cool it is here ! " said Yankel, flinging 
 himself down on the fresh moss. " We may as well 
 rest a little and have our dinner." 
 
 Yenta readily fell in with the proposal, and seated 
 herself beside him ; and when they had made away 
 with all the provisions and a little bit of their 
 appetite, they stretched themselves out lazily and 
 luxuriously. 
 
 They had not lain on so soft a bed for a long time. 
 
 " Yenta, if I fall asleep, be sure to wake me at 
 once," murmured Yankel. 
 
 " I shall," replied Yenta, drowsily, and she had 
 just time to see Yankel's eyes close before her own 
 followed suit. 
 
 The chill of the evening dew shook Yankel out 
 of his slumber. 
 
 " Yenta, Yenta," he cried, " look, we have slept 
 the sun to bed. Quick, let us hasten before it gets 
 dark altogether." 
 
 Yenta leaped up with a start, looking round her 
 for the daylight, and only finding a faint streak of 
 pale red glimmering to the west. 
 
 She shivered a little. " Don't you think we had 
 better leave the forest and strike across the open 
 fields } " she asked. 
 
THE GRAND CHIL DREN. ,215 
 
 "Why, pray?" 
 
 " Because there might be gipsies or ghosts in the 
 wood." 
 
 Yankel was just about to draw himself up and 
 start blustering about his courage and her cowardice 
 when his eyes fell on the lengthening shadows 
 around, and he answered with a small voice : 
 
 " I think you are right, Yenta." So they went on 
 a little way in silence. 
 
 " Isn't it dark ? " whispered Yenta. 
 
 "What else do you expect at night time?" asked 
 Yankel. " But it won't last very long, the moon 
 will be up presently." And he quickly swallowed 
 the quaver in his voice before Yenta might notice it. 
 
 But despite his prediction, the moon was very 
 tardy in coming. The sky had rolled itself up in 
 dense, hazy mists — not so thick as storm-clouds, but 
 thick enough to give the moon considerable trouble 
 in breaking through them. So she could only make 
 a little rift through which she peeped shamefacedly, 
 and what could be seen of her face looked very 
 pale and wan, probably with the exertion. 
 
 The two little travellers journeyed on, holding 
 each other very tightly by the hand. They were 
 keeping along a bramble hedge that seemed to 
 stretch endlessly into the darkness. 
 
 " Do you really know the road?" asked Yenta, 
 breathlessly. 
 
 " Don't ask so many questions — come along," 
 answered Yankel savagely. 
 
 Then there was silence again for a little while, 
 until Yenta, despite the risk of incurring her 
 brother's displeasure, spoke up, just to see if her 
 voice had not been frightened out of her entirely. 
 
 " Perhaps we shall not find a father after all 
 to-night." 
 
 " You with your father," broke out Yankel, "if we 
 
2i6 THE GRANDCHILDREN. 
 
 had gone only to find a grandmother we might have 
 Gome across one already ; fathers are much more 
 difficult to get in these hard times." 
 
 And Yankel walked on faster, till suddenly he 
 took it into his head to gaze back and see if the 
 world looked so dark behind as it looked in front. 
 No, it did not — a few yards behind him there was 
 a patch of light against the hedge. What might it 
 be ? Anybody could have told him it was the little 
 streak of moonshine that had struggled down 
 through the fissure in the wrack overhead. A 
 minute after Yankel looked round again. It was 
 still there, just as close behind, or a little closer ; 
 the rift was shifting. 
 
 " What makes you look round like that ? " asked 
 Yenta. 
 
 " Nothing. I thought — " And then Yankel was 
 silent, and glanced back again. There it was, only 
 it looked different now ; it was beginning to take 
 shape ; it resembled — what did it resemble? Yankel 
 set his teeth firmly to bite his fear dead between 
 them. Then he turned round once more, and this 
 time he found out what it was. 
 
 " She is coming behind us," he whispered, breaking 
 into a run. 
 
 " Who — what is ? " asked Yenta quivering. 
 
 " She with the white face. Come, let us run ; we 
 can run faster than she. She could never catch us 
 when she wanted to give us a beating." 
 
 And so they ran on with heaving chests and flying 
 breath. And when they had run across half the world 
 as it seemed to them, Yankel looked again across 
 his shoulder, and a sob of terror broke from his lips. 
 
 " She is still following," he gasped, " she is close 
 behind. She wants to catch me and drag me back 
 to say the Mourner's Sanctification for her every 
 morning and afternoon. Faster, Yenta, faster ! " 
 
THE GRANDCHILDREN, 217 
 
 He gripped her hand harder, and whirled her 
 along with him, until suddenly there was a squeak- 
 ing, sucking noise under their feet, and the ground 
 became soft and spongy. 
 
 " The swamp — the swamp," whispered Yenta. 
 
 " Is it the swamp ? " cried Yankel, exultantly. 
 " Then we shall escape her after all ; she cannot 
 follow us there, or she will get drowned." 
 
 He looked around; the white face was still 
 following; he gave a loud shriek and, grasping 
 Yenta's hand as in a vice, dragged her on stumbling 
 in the soft morass and oozy slime. He knew just 
 beyond it there was a lake, and in the waters they 
 could hide till the white face had got tired of looking 
 for them. They must be approaching near it ; the 
 ground was getting softer and softer, and squelched 
 and squeaked ; already the waters were playing 
 about their ankles ; they would be safe soon. And 
 suddenly a great watery abyss seemed to open 
 before them ; somebody was gripping them by the 
 feet, dragging them down, down, down — and then 
 the placid surface closed up again, and looked 
 innocent as if nothing had, happened. 
 
 So Yankel and Yenta found a Father that night, 
 after all — the same who had bidden the moon paint 
 the white face on the bramble-hedge. 
 
s 
 
 The Broken Pane. 
 
 THE judge sat in his study. The day*s work 
 had been unusually heavy ; sundry poachers, 
 smugglers, horse-thieves, a political offender or two, 
 had come up before his tribunal, and he had done 
 his duty conscientiously. That was why he now 
 felt so comfortable as he lounged in his grandfather- 
 chair, wrapped in his soft voluminous dressing- 
 gown, warming his feet at the bright blaze in the 
 grate. It was only mid-autumn, but he was grow- 
 ing old, and his blood ran sluggishly, as if it were 
 getting tired of the routine. 
 
 On the table stood the tall reading lamp, burning 
 quietly under its green shade. But suddenly the 
 straight steady flare broke into a momentary flicker, 
 and the heavy damask curtains at the window 
 swayed lightly, as if unseen fingers were playing 
 with them. Then the lamp sputtered more violently, 
 and the drapery moved with gently widening 
 curves. The judge looked up ; what did this mean ? 
 He felt a distinct gust of wind blowing into the 
 room in a volume of chill night air. Ah, he knew 
 — a pane in the window had got broken, his little 
 son Rudolph had driven the bolt of his cross-bow 
 through it that morning. A smile relaxed the set 
 lips of the judge as he thought of the little fellow's 
 tears at the mischief he had done — how the boy 
 would not be soothed till his father, on his way out 
 to the court-house, had lifted him up and kissed 
 him, and, for stronger evidence of his forgiveness, 
 
THE BROKEN PANE. 219 
 
 had presented him with a shining silver rouble. 
 He had ordered old Sebastian to see that the 
 window was mended during the day, and the stupid 
 rascal had evidently forgotten. With an angry 
 frown, the judge reached for the bell-rope; but just 
 as it was about to give tongue, his arm stiffened and 
 stopped motionless — something seemed holding it 
 back — a sudden thought — a memory. His fist 
 clenched as if he had caught something and would 
 not let it go. The pale, silent-eyed ghost of the 
 past had brushed by him, and now he was clutch- 
 ing it by the skirts 
 
 Had it not all begun with a broken pane — and 
 at this season of the year ? That was why the old 
 Jewish vagrant had pleaded so earnestly that day 
 to be let off, so that he might not be deprived of 
 his supplications for an auspicious year, with plenty 
 of undetected pilferings. The judge laughed to 
 himself — a broken pane ! How ignoble it sounded. 
 Had he had his will, he woulcl have chosen some- 
 thing more heroic for the pivot of his life. Pro- 
 vidence stooping to the disguise of a broken pane 
 of glass ! No wonder people had so little respect 
 for Providence. 
 
 He was a little boy again — ten, eleven years old. 
 It was the eve of the New Year — his father and 
 brothers, looking spruce and clean, were coming 
 from the house on their way to the Evening Service. 
 
 " Come to prayers, you godless little imp," he 
 remembered his father saying, " unless you would 
 begin the New Year with broken bones." 
 
 " I shall be there as soon as you," the little boy 
 had answered, pretending to be very busy collect- 
 ing a basket of peat for the kitchen. And then, 
 having watched bis father out of sight, he went 
 back to his real business which, out of deference to 
 his father's feelings, he had momentarily inter- 
 
220 THE BROKEN PANE. 
 
 mitted. It cannot be maintained that the business 
 in question was more important than going to 
 Synagogue, but for Jacob, that is the little boy, it 
 had much more fascination. He was stoning the 
 weathercock. 
 
 The said weathercock had its perch on the gable 
 of the house wherein Jacob and his folk lived. 
 Jacob hated it, from pure jealousy — it looked so 
 aggravatingly irresponsible, it could turn this way 
 and that without protest from any one, its life was 
 not pent up between morning and evening prayers 
 nor squeezed flat between the pages of Rashi's 
 Commentaries, And therefore, to infuse a little 
 sorrow into its existence, Jacob threw stones at it 
 on every occasion. Nine times out often he missed 
 it, and the weathercock swung round and round 
 creaking, and Jacob thought it said : " You silly 
 little Jew boy " ; and the tenth time, when it was 
 hit, its brass pennon swung on just the same, with 
 a lordly unconcern, 'which annoyed Jacob more 
 than to be called a silly Jew boy. 
 
 This afternoon he had been more than usually 
 unsuccessful — the weathercock seemed invulnerable. 
 But Jacob was determined not to be beaten, and 
 that was why he sought a pretence for not follow- 
 ing his father immediately. At last he grew des- 
 perate ; from the Synagogue at the back rose the 
 Declaration of the Unity, it was getting very dark 
 too — ^just one more missile and he would have done. 
 Carefully he poised his throw, took steady aim, let 
 loose and crash — ! Jacob felt a shiver wriggle down 
 his back ; what had happened ? Yes, there was no 
 doubt of it, he had broken a window — the solitary 
 window of the dingy sitting-room where the family 
 took their meals on great occasions. 
 
 A nameless horror took hold of the boy. He 
 dared not face his father after this — his stern love- 
 
THE BROKEN PANE, 221 
 
 less father who had always made him a scapegoat, 
 who would lift him up by the ears and throw him 
 on the ground and strike him with his cobbler's 
 strap — first for not coming to Synagogue, secondly 
 for committing breakage on a holiday, which was a 
 greater sin, thirdly for causing an unnecessary ex- 
 pense of twenty copecks, which was the greatest. 
 And as the catalogue of his indictments rose before 
 the boy's eyes, he started away with a shriek, and 
 ran as if an army of fiends with cobbler's straps 
 in their hands were pursuing him. 
 
 The squalid Jew-quarter lay already far behind, 
 and he was still running, his head dazed and be- 
 wildered by the labyrinthine streets of the great 
 city, his chest heaving, his eyes staring wildly. 
 Whither was he running } He knew not — he cared 
 not — only away from the hard pitiless face of his 
 father and the whizzing sting of his leather thong. 
 Suddenly he felt something touch him on the 
 shoulder and he flung himself to earth with a howl 
 of terror. 
 
 " Spare me, father, spare me — only this once," 
 he shrieked. 
 
 " Get up, I mean you no harm," said a strange 
 voice, and a hand stroked his head almost cares- 
 singly. And when he looked up he saw before 
 him a man in a long cassock, who was gazing at 
 him compassionately. 
 
 "You are frightened — you are fleeing some 
 danger — tell me all ; you are safe with me," he said 
 again. 
 
 In eager haste and with many a backward glance 
 of dread, Jacob told him what had happened, his 
 tongue lapsing now and again into his Ghetto 
 gibberish. " If I go back now," he sobbed, " I 
 shall be half flayed and thrust into the cell^ir over 
 night — oh ! " A greenish look crept over his little 
 
222 THE BROKEN PANE. 
 
 sallow face, and he reeled and tottered like a 
 drunken man. 
 
 " Starving, as I live," muttered the cassock-man, 
 looking at him closely ; and with that he stooped 
 and lifted the boy in his arms — the burden was 
 pitifully light. Then he strode on, and by the time 
 he was entering a doorway Jacob had so far re- 
 covered as to raise his head. 
 
 " What is that ? " he asked, pointing to a gilded 
 wooden figure on a cross that hung at the side of 
 the entrance. 
 
 " That ? That is my doorpost amulet," answered 
 the cassock-man hastily, " like the one you have at 
 home." 
 
 " But it is not like ours," insisted Jacob; "yours 
 is wood and ours is a tin capsule with an opening 
 through which the eye of God peeps into the house 
 — so I have heard our Rabbi say ; but perhaps 
 yours is a newer make." 
 
 " A newer make, indeed," said the other slowly, 
 " but one that shall endure when your tin capsule 
 is eaten by rust." 
 
 " The Rabbi says there is a soul in each capsule, 
 and when the tin gets rust-eaten the soul goes into 
 a new capsule, and so on as long as the world shall 
 last." 
 
 Jacob shrank back because the eyes of the man, 
 which had till now looked so mild and loving, 
 seemed blazing with a terrible fire ; but only for 
 an instant. 
 
 " You know not what you are saying," said the 
 man in his soft voice when they had entered. 
 *' Come and eat, your body needs tending first." 
 Quickly he set before Jacob all manner of eatables, 
 and Jacob did not stop to enquire into their 
 nature. He thought he was in Eden-Garden and 
 was feasting on the leviathan, which is the regular 
 
THE BROKEN PANE. 223 
 
 bill of fare in the place. He had fasted all day, 
 because his mother thought it fitting one should 
 grow a greater appetite for the greater glory of the 
 festival. The man sat watching him in silence, and 
 by and by, when Jacob had ceased eating and his 
 eyes grew heavy with the weight of sleep, he took 
 him by the hand to lead him from the chamber, and 
 Jacob's heart sank as he thought he would now 
 have to go forth into the cold night and sleep on 
 the stones, with evil spirits and other horrors to 
 keep him company. But no, the man took him to 
 a little room, wherein stood a bed, all white-sheeted 
 and raised from the floor on four legs, and Jacob 
 had just time to think it was probably too high to 
 be reached by the cockroaches that used to come 
 swarming over his straw pallet near the kitchen 
 hearth, before he was fast asleep. But long after- 
 wards he wondered at the strange dream that had 
 come to him that night : he had wandered into the 
 midst of a large plain, at one end of which stood 
 his father with a Scroll of the Law uplifted in his 
 hands, and at the other the cassock-man raised 
 aloft the gilded figure on the cross ; and Jacob 
 looked from one to the other, and gradually the 
 Law-scroll dwindled away to the size of a tin 
 capsule, while the wooden figure waxed till it over- 
 shadowed all the plain, and then, opening its arms, 
 caught him fast in its embrace. 
 
 So it had all begun — his life in the priest's 
 house, the acquiring of strange knowledge, the 
 struggle between the old bonds of blood and the 
 enticements of his new home. Once, and once 
 only, did the former triumph. It was on the fifth 
 anniversary of his flight, when the idle curiosity he 
 still felt concerning the fate of his people grew to 
 a mighty longing. So he stole out into the dark, 
 threaded his way, as if by instinct, among the 
 
224 THE BROKEN PANE. 
 
 Ghetto streets until he stood before his father's 
 house. Stealthily he crept up the ladder placed 
 at the side of the window and peeped into the 
 room : there they all sat round the little table — 
 father, mother, brothers, sisters, eating and making 
 merry as though they had no cause for sorrow in 
 the world. A jealous anger swept through his 
 bosom : they did not miss him — the gap had been 
 filled, the pane had been mended. Silently he 
 crept down again with his resolve firm in his heart. 
 Overhead his old enemy, the weathercock, swung 
 and creaked, but it no longer seemed to say : " You 
 silly little Jew boy " — it now said : " Wladimir, 
 Wladimir, what a fine name we have to be sure ! " 
 
 And then he hastened away, wondering why a 
 sudden rush of blood should make his cheeks tingle 
 so hotly through the darkness. 
 
 Thenceforth he only lived for his work and 
 wrought miracles of toil and application. How- 
 ever hard his fellow-students strove, he outstripped 
 them all, and forged ahead as though possessed of 
 ten men's strength. But in his own heart he knew 
 the spring and motive of his restless zeal. Every 
 grain of learning, every atom of knowledge, was a 
 boulder for the building of the great barrier-wall 
 that was to sunder him from the other side of his 
 life, and all it once contained. And for a greater 
 precaution he let his heart turn to a block of lead, 
 so that if ever he were tempted to scale that wall, 
 it would drag him down again before he could 
 achieve his attempt. 
 
 And then he made for the goal to which his 
 talent and ambition were to carry him, and he suc- 
 ceeded even beyond his own hopes. He stepped 
 from post to post, making one office the vaulting- 
 board from which to reach the next. At last they 
 made him a judge, and there he stopped, for he 
 
THE BROKEN PANE. 2^5 
 
 was growing aghast at his own greatness. After 
 all, he could not get rid of his pariah-instinct, he 
 could not entirely forget the runaway little Jew 
 boy whom the kind-hearted priest had taken for 
 his son, to whom he had given his love, his wealth, 
 his knowledge — and from whom he had taken in 
 return nothing but his belief: on whose side had 
 been the barg lin ? 
 
 He asked himself the question many a time — 
 one day he got his answer. It was brought to him, 
 as he sat at his tribunal, by two men, draggle- 
 tailed, shaggy-haired, reeking with the squalor of 
 their poverty. Oh, he knew what it was to be 
 Joseph in Egypt — he recognised them at once: 
 these two men were his brothers. 
 
 " Why have we smuggled ? " they whined ; 
 " because our father lay dying, and we had nothing 
 wherewith to allay his sufferings, and we risked 
 hfe and liberty to make his death-bed easier." 
 
 So he was dead, the stern, sullen-hearted man, 
 and here were his brothers — the living types of 
 what he himself would have been but for that 
 broken pane. " Risked life and liberty ? " No, 
 the law of the land must not be transgressed. But 
 as he stood outside the penance chamber and 
 listened to the swishing of the lash and the cries 
 of the culprits, a feeling came over him as if his 
 soul were being bastinadoed by proxy. True, he 
 made amends to them, but without owning to his 
 action, and he took no credit for it — he knew it 
 was no better than throwing a bone to a dog after 
 one has kicked him. 
 
 Certainly, he uas now a great judge, and judged 
 God's creatures according to his wisdom. He him- 
 self would one day stand before the Judgment seat 
 of the Greater and Greatest Judge — and what 
 would His verdict be ? Sometimes he thought God 
 
226 THE BROKEN PANE. 
 
 and he were colleagues, two of a trade, as it were, 
 and that, therefore, he was entitled to a discount in 
 his sentence. It was an impious thought, a sacri- 
 legious jest ; but then he had laughed at so many- 
 things ; one laugh more or less 
 
 Whew ! the wind came through the broken pane 
 with an angry gust. Had it blown the lamp out ? 
 The judge felt everything getting so dark and cold. 
 He staggered up from his seat, fumbling for the 
 beil-cord — he would summon Sebastian to take him 
 to bed — or no, he would rather go and kiss his 
 
 little Rudolph what was that? There was a 
 
 short, sharp stab going like a rapier through his 
 body ; it seemed to him as if a splinter of the 
 pane he had broken so many long years ago was 
 being driven through his bosom with quick, clean 
 thrusts — surely nothing else could stab like that — 
 could stab again and again until 
 
 The stars of the night looked at him as he lay 
 there rigid and silent : then they turned to one 
 another and said reassuringly : " True, we too are 
 but windows — the windows of the sky ; yet let us 
 not fear — no one shall break us : are we not made 
 of adamant ? " 
 
Puggy's Revolt. 
 
 PUGGY was not a favourite ; the very name he 
 went by showed that. To be dubbed " Pug- 
 nose," familiarised by length of use into " Puggy," 
 implied a wanton disregard of his feelings and self- 
 respect which would only be meted out to one who 
 stood very low in the opinion of his associates. 
 The nickname had been invented by Saucy Dave 
 in a moment of evil inspiration, and ever since it 
 had stuck to Puggy as tightly as the facial ap- 
 pendage which had suggested it. Saucy Dave had 
 been his malevolent genius all along. It was a case of 
 vendetta. Between these Montagues and Capulets 
 of Spitalfields, there raged an hereditary feud, 
 which had originated in the Beth-Din — the Jewish 
 Court-house — where Dave's and Puggy's fathers 
 had met, some years ago, to ventilate a private 
 quarrel. The decision had gone against Dave's 
 father, and Dave, like the dutiful son he was, had 
 there and then resolved to avenge the tarnished 
 glory and damaged fortunes of his house. He had 
 ample opportunity for putting his more or less 
 laudable designs into effect. Among the schoolboy 
 population of Brick Lane, in which Puggy counted, 
 though only as a negligeable quantity, Dave was 
 a predominating influence. His was the largest 
 pocket-money — at least ninepence a week ; his was 
 also the strongest arm, ever ready to give weight 
 to his opinions where mere argument proved insuf- 
 ficient. And so, when his fiat went forth that 
 Puggy was to be considered an " outsider," poor 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 FUGGY' S REVOLT. 
 
 Puggy found few, if any, to protest against his ex- 
 communication. Least of all did he think of pro- 
 testing himself He was still too recent an arrival 
 in this land of liberty to have outlived the faculty 
 for yielding to circumstances, which is at once the 
 vice and virtue of the co-religionists he had left 
 behind in the Pale of Settlement. 
 
 But, for all that, he felt his ostracism keenly, and, 
 despite tlie placid air of indifference his face wore, 
 his heart beat stormily in unuttered remonstrance 
 whenever he watched the yelling crew luxuriate in 
 the rampant excitement of " release " and " egg- 
 cap," what time he stood kicking his heels, and 
 forcing back the tears of cold and vexation. Occa- 
 sionally only he was allowed to take part in " over- 
 him-back.s," a local and dialect form of leap-frog ; 
 but his share of the proceedings was confined to 
 " standing down " — that is, to bending his back 
 while the others displayed their saltatory prowess 
 at his expense. Any incidental rough handling he 
 received was excused by pleading the exigencies 
 of the game. Puggy bore it, simply because their 
 contact with him, even if unnecessarily violent, 
 somewhat redeemed him in his own eyes, and made 
 him feel that he had not been born a boy altogether 
 in vain. And meanwhile the Beth-Din gave deci- 
 sions, serenely unconscious that the dispensation of 
 such justice as they were able to dispense should 
 be attended with such deplorable results. 
 
 When Puggy was about twelve, a decided change 
 came into his affairs. It came with a change of 
 neighbours. A little girl moved in next door. She 
 brought with her a retinue of little brothers and 
 sisters, as well as a full complement of parents. 
 But to Puggy 's mind the only occupant of the 
 house was the little girl, though he could not under- 
 stand why she was not in heaven, because that 
 
PUGGY'S REVOLT. 229 
 
 was the proper place for angels. The first time he 
 saw her he gaped at her with suspended breath, 
 until her gaze caught his, and made him beat a 
 precipitous retreat indoors. The boycotting of 
 which he had so long been the victim had not bred 
 in him a habit of self-assertion. But gradually he 
 mustered up courage to stand in his doorway when 
 she was superintending the fledglings of the 
 parental nest making their initial attempts at 
 locomotion on the pavement and in the gutter. 
 True, he felt bound to give his presence an air of 
 casualty, but that did not interfere with the plea- 
 sure he extracted from the spectacle. It was far 
 more interesting than watching Saucy Dave's deeds 
 of valour and strategy in the release of miserable 
 prisoners. It was also less humiliating, but it was 
 not making progress. Puggy was in hourly fear, lest 
 some other boy, with a greater talent for playing 
 the cavalier, would ingratiate himself with his 
 divinity. The lady herself made no move ; she 
 ignored him. 
 
 But what must be shall be, even if only by acci- 
 dent. Puggy was fated to become acquainted with 
 Becky ; he knew that was her name, because that 
 interfering mother of hers was continually calling 
 her by it, which call invariably necessitated Becky's 
 disappearance into the house. Well, Providence 
 came along the street one day in the shape of an 
 apple-hawker. Becky's mother, like a more historic 
 mother, looked at the apples and found them good, 
 and so Becky was despatched to make purchase. 
 Everything went well, even to the matter of over- 
 weight. But when Becky had come as far as the 
 door with her load, the pinafore, to which she had 
 confided it, basely betrayed its trust, and the apples 
 took advantage of the fact to make off in all pos- 
 sible directions. Becky was after them in a 
 
230 PUGGY'S REVOLT. 
 
 twinkling, but the apples were fighting for their 
 lives, and refused to be captured ; while one was 
 being seized, the other escaped. From his door- 
 way Puggy watched the desperate struggle ; when 
 he saw the apples were gaining the upper hand, 
 he thought himself justified in coming to the 
 rescue. 
 
 " ril help — will you let me } " he asked, saunter- 
 ing up. 
 
 " If I was you, I'd be askin' questions," was the 
 irate reply. 
 
 Puggy took the hint, and in a trice the recalci- 
 trant apples were regathered into captivity. With- 
 out the slightest acknowledgment of his service, 
 Becky hurried in. Puggy returned to his lurking- 
 place, biting his finger and thinking hard things of 
 her. 
 
 " * Thank you,' don't cost nothin'," was his silent 
 comment. "Jimminy, we don't give ourselves no 
 airs — oh, no ! " 
 
 But the next moment Becky re-appeared, and 
 for once the emblem of human degeneration and of 
 discord became a peace-offering. 
 
 " Here's a nice 'un," she said, holding out a full- 
 fed apple. 
 
 Puggy looked at her with doubt and hesitation 
 in his eye. Then he said : " Did your mother 
 send me that } " 
 
 " You're the inquisitivest boy I ever met," she 
 replied ungraciously. 
 
 Puggy's suspicions grew. " Where's your'n ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 '' Nowhere — don't care for any just now." 
 
 " I'll go you halves," suggested Puggy. 
 
 The compromise seemed good to Becky, and 
 soon Puggy's twopenny clasp-knife had effected the 
 dismemberment of the unfortunate apple. During 
 
PUGGY'S REVOLT. 231 
 
 the munching an interchanore of confidences took 
 place, and by the time Becky was called to bed, 
 they knew each other's history for three genera- 
 tions back. 
 
 The next day Puggy was somewhat lacking in 
 attention and diligence during school hours. He 
 preferred day-dreaming. Of course he dreamed 
 about Becky ; he mapped out the glorious possi- 
 bilities entailed by this new acquaintance. How 
 she would fill the void in his life — the void that was , 
 Saucy Dave's handiwork. The days of his soli- 
 tude were over. All during the summer he would 
 help her to take the children to the park ; and in 
 the long winter evenings, instead of shivering about 
 at street-corners, he would be helping Becky with 
 her home-work — he was rather a clever boy ; and 
 after that they would play noughts and crosses, 
 and eat baked chestnuts. And in between they 
 would quarrel and make up — oh, there was a good 
 time coming. The first thing Puggy did on the 
 strength of it was to forgive Saucy Dave all his 
 malice ; for without that there would have been no 
 Becky. 
 
 Afternoon school was over. Puggy waited at 
 the girls' exit till Becky came out. She too seemed 
 glad to see him, and together they strolled on 
 homewards among the teeming multitude of their 
 fellows. Quite suddenly a voice close by them 
 said : " Puggy." Puggy turned round with a start, 
 just in time to see Ike Topper, Saucy Dave's 
 adjutant, dodging away in the crowd ; then he 
 looked at Becky, but apparently she had noticed 
 nothing. They had only gone another yard or 
 two when the cry broke again on their ears. This 
 time, however, Puggy was on his guard, and kept 
 his face straight in front of him ; but Becky looked 
 about her. 
 
232 PUGGY'S REVOLT. 
 
 " What a funny name — I wonder who it is they're 
 callin' Puggy," she remarked after her survey. 
 
 Her escort did not enlighten her, but hastened 
 his step. They had at last got out of the crush, 
 and Fuggy was congratulating himself on having 
 run the entire gauntlet, when, all at once, Saucy 
 Dave's voice said at his shoulder : 
 
 " Who'd have thought it? Look at Puggy doin' 
 the la-di-da." 
 
 Puggy's heart stopped beating, and Becky 
 stopped walking to look at Dave. 
 
 " Who d'you mean ? " she asked calmly. 
 
 " Why, him," said Dave, pointing to her com- 
 panion ; " he's Puggy all the world over." 
 
 And, yelling with fiendish laughter, Dave 
 scampered off. Puggy's face was a sight to see. 
 
 " Is it true ? " asked Becky, glancing at him 
 sideways. 
 
 " I can't help it if they do call me — that," he 
 said sullenly, with a hitch over the last word. 
 
 Becky turned her nose up and walked away 
 with a peculiar stiffness in her gait. 
 
 " What's the hurry t " asked Puggy, catching 
 her up. 
 
 "No hurry at all — only I can't be pals with a 
 boy what all the other boys call Puggy," she ex- 
 plained. 
 
 The terrible prospect gave wheels to Puggy's 
 tongue. Eloquently, with much circumstance and 
 detail, he tried to extenuate the disgrace attaching 
 to his soubriquet ; he addressed himself to her 
 common-sense to impress her that a boy with a 
 nickname might be worth fifty boys who had never 
 enjoyed that distinction. In conclusion, he ap- 
 pealed to her compassion by a recital of the tribu- 
 lations he had endured at the hands of Saucy Dave. 
 This last certainly produced an effect on his listener. 
 
PUGGY'S REVOLT. 233 
 
 "Did Dave do all that to you?" she asked 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Honour bright," was the eager reply. " There's 
 another thing, for instance " 
 
 " And you let him ? " she interrupted curtly. 
 
 Puggy hung his head ; instead oi her pity he 
 had earned her contempt. 
 
 " I ain't his size," he ventured, in apology. 
 
 Becky gave another toss of her head that spoke 
 volumes ; not another word she deigned to him. 
 Puggy slunk on behind her disconsolately. His 
 air-castles had fallen in ruins ; the future he had 
 painted in roseate hues lay dark and dreary before 
 him. And all on account of one word ; it was 
 maddening ; he wondered if Becky could hear the 
 gnashing of his teeth. 
 
 Just as they came to the top of their street he 
 made another attempt. 
 
 " Becky," he began. 
 
 " Don't talk to me ; I'm thinkin'," she answered. 
 
 A flutter of hope ran through Puggy. So all 
 was not lost yet. Anxiously he watched her; 
 Becky's face was that of a sphinx. But by the 
 time they had reached her door she seemed to have 
 made up her mind. 
 
 " Wait till I come out," she commanded. 
 
 Puggy planted himself on the doorstep, with the 
 firm resolve to stand there while there was any of 
 •the doorstep left to stand upon. Joyful thoughts 
 kept him company. But when, five minutes after- 
 wards, Becky reappeared, an uncompromising look 
 had settled on her features. 
 
 " Take that," she said, thrusting a half-sheet of 
 paper into his hands ; " there's something written 
 on it," she went on, as he stood gaping. 
 
 Wonderingly he lifted it to his eyes. 
 
234 PUGGY'S REVOLT. 
 
 " I don't understand it," he said, painfully, after 
 the perusal. 
 
 " Well, then, just read it till you do," she said, 
 sweetly. 
 
 This time Puggy read aloud, to see if his ears 
 would deceive him as his eyes seemed to do. 
 
 " I promise to lieve off callin' you Puggy," said 
 the paper. 
 
 " Quite right," commented Becky. " Now you go 
 to Saucy Dave, and just ask him to sign that." 
 
 " Eh ? " said Puggy, aghast. 
 
 " Yes, and when you've brought it back we'll 
 see about takin' on again. Puggy, indeed ! Who 
 ever heard o' sich a thing ? " 
 
 The next moment Puggy found himself alone 
 with his destiny, to wit, the fatal document in his 
 hand, on which everything depended. There was 
 nothing to be got by looking at it ; it only looked 
 back at him, till Puggy felt it was staring him out 
 of countenance. Sadly he stumbled indoors ; it 
 was tea-time, and though the world were going to 
 pieces, one must have his tea. And just at present 
 Puggy felt it would be a sort of respite ; it would 
 stave off developments, and preclude the necessity 
 for immediate action. But it did not prevent him 
 from thinking, and the more he thought, the more 
 hopeless and impossible seemed the task that had 
 been set him. He just pictured what Saucy Dave 
 would say to the suggestion of making such a 
 declaration ; it was not a pleasant picture, and 
 Puggy took hastily half-a-dozen gulps out of his 
 cup to wash it away. It was a terrible quandary ; 
 he doubted whether his reason would survive it. 
 He reflected if he should commit suicide at once 
 by taking another cup of tea; but heroically he 
 thrust from him such an ignominious solution of 
 
PUGGY'S REVOLT. 235 
 
 the difficulty. No, Becky had set him the task ; 
 Becky must tell him how it was to be done. 
 
 He got out into the street and saw her down 
 below, in the kitchen. 
 
 " Becky," he called. 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " Suppose Saucy Dave won't sign the paper ? " 
 
 " Make him," came laconically through the area- 
 grating. 
 
 That was the last straw. In a blind fury of des- 
 pair Puggy rushed off", careless whither his feet were 
 carrying him, because he never intended coming 
 home any more ; he would hide in wild and unknown 
 pi ices, and never give tidings of himself Thus 
 would he revenge himself on the relentless Becky; 
 her life would be clouded by the consciousness that 
 she had made the home next door desolate. That 
 led him to think of the fright his mother would be 
 in if he did not come back by bed-time ; and also 
 where he was likely to find other sleeping accommo- 
 dation. 
 
 The consideration sobered him ; 'he saw he was 
 playing the fool. His recklessness oozed out of 
 him, and instead an iron resolution filled his heart. 
 Without making up his mind what shape his action 
 was to take, he bent his steps to Moon Alley, Saucy 
 Dave's headquarters ; he only knew he was going 
 to do something. 
 
 The gang was in full muster. 
 
 '•Just in time, Puggy," said Saucy Dave; "we're 
 goin' to play ' over-him-backs,' " 
 
 " And who's going to stand down ? " asked Puggy, 
 looking round carelessly. 
 
 For a moment the air was held still-bound by 
 surprise ; then a multitudinous guffaw shook it as 
 with a broadside. Saucy Dave alone kept his 
 face. 
 
236 PUGGY'S REVOLT. 
 
 " None o' your larks, Puggy ; stand down," he 
 shouted angrily. 
 
 And without waiting to see his order obeyed he 
 walked back to give himself impetus for the leap. 
 But Puggy did not " stand down " ; on the contrary, 
 he pulled himself up. 
 
 " Now look here," he said deliberately, " the next 
 chap that calls me Puggy is going to swallow some 
 of his teeth." 
 
 Before the others had well taken in the import 
 of the threat, Saucy Dave had come up and, poking 
 his face into Puggy's, said : 
 - " Puggy. Puggy, Puggy ! Want any more ? " 
 
 In that supreme moment it became clear to 
 Puggy which way his course lay. Leisurely he 
 divested himself of his coat, rolled up his shirt- 
 sleeves — what there was to roll up — and stood 
 looking at Saucy Dave. Thus had he forced his 
 fate to the turning-point. The worst that could 
 happen to him was to get killed, which would also 
 be satisfactory in its way : it would settle every- 
 thing — no one would be so absurd as to call a 
 corpse Puggy. 
 
 Saucy Dave was dumb-founded : Puggy intended 
 to fight him. He would sooner have dreamed of 
 Puggy going for a soldier. The shock of the un- 
 expected unnerved him. Then he had his mis- 
 givings. Surely Puggy was not such a maniac as 
 to imperil his hide unless he had good grounds for 
 hoping he would come unscathed out of the ordeal. 
 No doubt he had taken boxing lessons, and had 
 practised with dumb-bells ; and now that Dave 
 looked at him attentively, there seemed to be no 
 such great disparity in their sizes. But he must 
 take the challenge ; if not, his prestige was gone for 
 ever. 
 
 " D' you want to know what the middle o' next 
 
PUGG rs REVOLT. 237 
 
 week will be like? All right, I'll knock you into 
 it," he bragged, stripping likewise and working his 
 arms like the revolving screws of a steam-engine. 
 
 Puggy said nothing, but he stepped into the 
 ring, which had instinctively been formed for the 
 two combatants, with an easy nonchalance born of 
 callous resignation. Dave took this unscientific 
 attitude for a technical ruse, and became more 
 disconcerted in consequence. 
 
 This was Puggy 's first fight. However, just as a 
 man who plays a game of cards for the first time 
 invariably wins, so it was destined that Puggy 
 should issue triumphant from this new adventure. 
 Dave suddenly thought he was cut out for a great 
 composer, for all at once he became conscious of 
 strange melodies humming in his head ; yet it was 
 only Puggy 's fist that had made his ear sing. And, 
 again, he thought astronomy was his forte, to judge 
 from the number of constellations he observed in 
 the afternoon sky. But when he received that 
 staggerer in his wind, he just gave up thinking 
 altogether, and heaped himself comfortably on the 
 ground. 
 
 The fight had been watched with awe-struck 
 whispers, which, when Dave went down, sank to 
 absolute silence. 
 
 " Give me best ? " asked Puggy, standing over 
 the vanquished. 
 
 Dave nodded sullenly. 
 
 " Then just sign this," went on Puggy, holding 
 out to him Becky's script and a stumpy lead pencil. 
 
 The strange request so took Dave aback that 
 before he was clear what was required of him, he 
 had scrawled his name. 
 
 " This is to siggerfy," said Puggy to the mystified 
 onlookers, " that he's promised to leave off callin' 
 me Puggy." 
 
238 PUGGY'S REVOLT, 
 
 '* Let's sign too," said Ike Topper. 
 
 " Me too," came from a dozen mouths ; and the 
 next minute the paper was passing from hand to 
 hand till all the available space was covered with 
 more or less legible signatures. 
 
 " Much 'bliged," said Puggy that was no more 
 Puggy, folding up the precious document, and 
 putting it in his waistcoat pocket. " Now I'm goin' 
 to send this straight to Summonset House for the 
 Queen to stamp it, and if any o' you don't keep 
 his promise, I'll stamp him myself — like Dave 
 there," and he pointed to the livid impress of his 
 fist on Dave's left optic. 
 
 Becky was sitting on the doorstep ; as Puggy 
 came in sight she looked the other way. 
 
 " I've done it," he said standing in front of her. 
 
 " Done what ? " she asked, glancing up. 
 
 " Made Saucy Dave sign ; look here." And 
 while Becky was inspecting the various specimens 
 of caligraphy submitted to her, Puggy rolled off a 
 minute account of his wonderful exploit. 
 
 Becky did not speak immediaiely he had finished ; 
 she sat awhile scrutinising him critically. Then she 
 said, v/ith laughter dancing in her eyes : 
 
 " You're a brave boy — a very brave boy, and I'll 
 be proud to be pals with you, but " 
 
 " But what ? " asked Puggy, eagerly. 
 
 " You've got a pug nose all the same." 
 
To the Glopy of God. 
 
 I. 
 
 " /^"AUT you go, unless you want me to empty 
 V^ this kettle of boiling water over your head. 
 What have I done to be the mother of such 
 an idle, good-for-nothing, gormandising glutton ? 
 Something to eat, indeed ! Pray what would you 
 like — roasted lamb-tails garnished with burnt duck- 
 feathers? Boiled moonshine with sugar? Blue of 
 the sky baked into pancakes ? At six in the evening 
 there's potato-gruel — till then, not a morsel ; do 
 you hear ? Whoever suggested your name was a 
 prophet ; a lump of ill-luck you have been to your 
 parents — nothing else. Are you going or not.-*" 
 Just then the lady made a rapid movement in 
 the direction of the afore-mentioned hot-water 
 receptacle, and Jonah thought it time to take her 
 seriously. So he put on his cheeriest smile, thrust 
 his hands into his pockets, and sauntered out 
 leisurely, whistling the jolliest tune he could think 
 of. It was twelve o'clock, and therefore it still 
 lacked six hours to the promised meal. But that 
 was a trifle, thought Jonah, not worth while making 
 oneself miserable about. 
 
 He strolled a few yards up the village street, and 
 stopped. He saw Mendel, his only brother, coming 
 along. Mendel was twenty — two years older than 
 Jonah, although no one would have thought it, 
 because Jonah was a head taller, and had a chest 
 
240 TO THE GLORY OF GOD. 
 
 like a barn-door. Mendel carried a fat volume 
 under his arm, and was walking very slowly, as 
 though its weight impeded him. His eyes were 
 meditatively on the ground. 
 
 " Shall I carry your book for you ? '' sang out 
 Jonah, cheerfully. For answer Mendel shook his 
 head with angry impatience, like one who resents 
 an unwarranted interruption. 
 
 Jonah smiled a little scornfully. " I suppose he 
 is puzzling out where a dog has his gizzard, or 
 something equally important," he said to himself. 
 Then he followed him as far as he could. Mendel 
 stepped into the house, and Jonah, mindful of what 
 awaited him within, hung about outside. He 
 expected something, nor was he disappointed. 
 Presently the savour of frying onions floated out 
 upon the summer air. Jonah's organ of smell con- 
 fiscated most of it ; it was a pity to waste such a 
 good thing, even if it did not come exactly within 
 the category of eatables. Ten minutes after, he 
 heard the back-door of the kitchen open and shut. 
 His mother had gone out on an errand. Now was 
 his chance. Quickly he entered the living-room, 
 and found Mendel at the table, seated before a 
 tremendous platter of calf-liver. The fat book lay 
 open beside him. As Jonah came in, Mendel 
 looked up, and glanced apprehensively from his 
 brother to his platter, and back again. 
 
 " What do you want ? " he asked surlily. 
 
 "Nothing in particular," Jonah answered blandly ; 
 " I was only thinking that, in case you can't 
 manage all that " 
 
 '• Didn't I know it ? " screamed Mendel. " As 
 usual, I can't eat a meal without your prowling 
 round to tear it out of my teeth." 
 
 " Not so loud, please, dear little Mendel," begged 
 Jonah hastily — he knew Mendel's tactics — " if you 
 
TO THE GLORY OF GOD. 241 
 
 don't think you can spare anything, I shall go 
 away. There's no need to excite yourself so." 
 
 " No, I can't spare anything," replied Mendel 
 unctuously — his mother had used much suet for the 
 liver. " It would be sacrilege. Don't you see I am 
 eating this to the glory of God ? " Jonah looked 
 and saw nothing of the kind. 
 
 " Blockhead that you are, you must have every- 
 thing explained to you," went on Mendel. " Well, 
 I need a great deal of food, so that my body might 
 be strong. A strong body makes a strong mind — 
 if one has a mind to begin with. And one needs a 
 strong mind to study God's word ; and the study of 
 God's word is to proclaim God's glory. Whereas 
 with you, who don't know an Aleph from a Beth, 
 it really doesn't matter whether you eat oftener 
 than, say, once a month." 
 
 Jonah was silent, thinking if he could not find a 
 flaw in his brother's logic ; no, it was invulnerable. 
 In the meantime Mendel's mandibles showed he 
 had the courage of his convictions. 
 
 " I don't want to state it for a fact," said Jonah 
 after a moment or two; "I only want to ask you — 
 you might have come across it in the course of your 
 studies — can't one do something for the glory of 
 God by sharing one's food with the hungry } " 
 Mendel stooped low over his book, but that did not 
 prevent Jonah from noticing that his ears had 
 suddenly become quite pink. 
 
 " There is something mentioned in the Law on 
 that point," replied Mendel reverting to his plate ; 
 "but they say the passage is spurious and therefore 
 need not be reckoned with." 
 
 Jonah was getting desperate ; the contents of the 
 dish had half vanished, and still Mendel's pious 
 appetite showed no abatement. 
 
 " Do you know, Mendel," he remarked, stepping 
 
242- TO THE GLORY OF GOD. 
 
 resolutely to the table, " they say hunger is a law to 
 itself. One must obey the laws, don't you think so?" 
 
 "Help, thieves, murder!" shouted Mendel, 
 frantically encircling his earthenware cornucopia 
 with both arms ; "Jonah is strangling me." 
 
 Before Jonah could make up his mind what 
 further measures to take in the face of this 
 determined opposition, he heard a swish behind, 
 which landed somewhere on his back and made it 
 tingle. Then there was another swish and another 
 tingle. Finally he felt himself collared and his 
 father's voice said at his ear : 
 
 " Is that where your bottomless greed will bring 
 you ? Fratricide } You think without that you 
 aren't sure of your passport into Gehennom? I for 
 my part have given it my signature — on your back 
 here. Perhaps you want me to underline it." 
 
 Jonah made no answer, but with one wrench of 
 his shoulder he shook his father loose and went out. 
 Anyone who saw him making his exit, hands in 
 pockets, smile on face, and whisth'ng for all he was 
 worth, would have thought he had just come away 
 from a most pleasurable experience. Jonah walked 
 slowly as befitted a retrospective mood. He was 
 asking himself if he really deserved all t'lat people 
 thought and said of him ; he wondered why no one 
 gave him credit for wishing well, if they all con- 
 demned him for doing ill, and how it was that his 
 name had become a blank cheque which every one 
 could fill in to any requisite amount of wickedness. 
 How could he help it that he had not been born 
 with the proper appliances for acquiring knowledge 
 as his brother Mendel ? It was perhaps natural 
 that by not keeping up the proud tradition of his 
 family, both on the paternal and maternal side, and 
 becoming a great scholar, like Mendel, he should- 
 have forfeited his parents' love. But surely it was 
 
TO THE GLORY OF GOD; 243 
 
 not his fault that he was so strong, and therefore 
 Gould not find employment, because wherever he 
 offered his services it was feared he would obtrude 
 certain definite notions he possessed about thd 
 treatment due to him. He let his father beat him 
 from a sense of filial piety ; if it gave his father 
 pleasure, he was not going to grudge it to the old 
 man, whose only other joy in life was his elder son 
 Mendel ; but he owed no such piety to a stranger, 
 as the only man in whose employ he had ever been 
 learned to his cost. Since then Jonah had been 
 more or less a vagabond at large, the victim of 
 much prophetic head-shaking and ominous 
 wrinkling of brows, and through it all he went 
 about smiling, whistling, till the prophets became 
 convinced that his only aim and object in life was 
 to vindicate their capacity for soothsaying. 
 
 But Jonah knew better : he knew his smile was 
 only skin deep, his whistle came only from his lips, 
 not from his heart. He was tired to death of the 
 general contumely of which he was the target. 
 And yet — why did he endure it t Jonah the 
 adventurous, the devil-may-care — why did he skulk 
 away his time here, instead of taking his knapsack 
 and going off "over all the seven mountains" — 
 somewhere where he could start life afresh, and not 
 have his infamy looking at him from every pair of 
 eyes he met in the street ? Yes, why didn't he go ? 
 
 The answer came tripping along on two dainty 
 little feet ; it had a sweet young face, for it had 
 only just stepped over the boundary between child- 
 hood and womanhood. When Jonah saw the girl 
 his hands left his pockets abruptly, and the whistle 
 died on his lips. 
 
 " Good-day to you, Fryda," he said. 
 
 The mouth closed tightly, and she walked past 
 him without a look. 
 
 R 2 
 
244 ^0 THE GLORY OF GOD. 
 
 " What's up ? " asked Jonah uncomfortably. 
 
 " Don't pretend you don't know," she said angrily. 
 " Didn't you threaten to kill your brother an hour 
 ago ? I heard all about it.' 
 
 Jonah v/as staggered. " First of all, it isn't true," 
 he said at last; "secondly, it was only a threat; 
 and, thirdly, what has it got to do with you ?" 
 
 Fryda's answer was a flush that tinted all her 
 face in a wonderful rose-light Jonah did not 
 understand that flush ; it disconcerted him. He had 
 talked to her hundreds of times, but never before 
 had he noticed the phenomenon. 
 
 "Why, what has it got to do with you?" he 
 repeated. 
 
 " Pretending again," she answered, but a great 
 deal more gently ; " as if you don't know that your 
 father and mine arranged last night Mendel was to 
 be my husband. You will admit I had good reason 
 to be angry with you for threatening to harm him. 
 But you won't, really, Jonah, will you?" 
 
 She lifted her eyes pleadingly to his, and was 
 astonished to see how pale he had become. She 
 thought it was with remorse. 
 
 " I won't," he said bluntly. " Tell me one thing, 
 Fryda — are you fond of him ? " 
 
 " Oh, very : I always was, ever since I can 
 remember. How could I help it when every one 
 talks so well of him ? Isn't he the greatest scholar 
 for a hundred miles round ? That alone would 
 make me love him. I have always wondered, 
 Jonah, that having such a brother, you are — what 
 you are." 
 
 " I often wonder at it myself," said Jonah, and, 
 with a short nod, went on. Fryda did not remark 
 that he had not wished her joy. 
 
 Jonah passed on his way with irregular, zig-zag 
 steps. People who saw him nodded significantly. 
 
TO THE GLORY OF GOD. 245 
 
 " Now he has also taken to drink," they told each 
 other. For the first time Jonah realised what an 
 outcast he was in his parents' house ; even such an 
 item of family importance no one had considered 
 necessary to communicate to him. But the bitter- 
 ness of that was as honey to the knowledge that 
 the only star in his firmament had been blotted 
 out, and that his soul was now groping in darkness. 
 And yet, what else had he to expect ? The weed 
 would not mate with the rose, and the weed had 
 known its unworthiness, and had never avowed its 
 desire. That was something to be grateful for — 
 one humiliation the less. And, therefore, he had 
 more room for his anger. There was nothing left 
 to love now — not even she, who, all the time, had 
 redeemed the others from his hatred ; it was a sin 
 to love her. His plan was made: just a little 
 space to revel in this hatred of his, and then, off 
 and away for ever. 
 
 When he returned home that night, it was hours 
 after meal-time. The gruel-soup stood on the 
 hearth, cold and sour. Jonah devoured it, together 
 with a chunk of black bread. The hard fare tasted 
 sweet to his palate. He knew it was not his 
 hunger that sweetened it ; the sugar was his great 
 hatred. 
 
 11. 
 
 A week after, Mendel got up in the morning, 
 wishing he had the day behind him. It contained 
 for him business of considerable importance — State 
 business, in fact. The evening before, he had 
 received a message from the Minister of War, 
 asking him to be so good as to come and serve his 
 country. It gave him explicit instructions to 
 present himself by noon at the barracks of the 
 departmental capital — three hours' journey by 
 
246 TO THE GLORY OF GOD. 
 
 wagon from his native place — and there to draw 
 lots with the other conscripts as to whether he 
 should have the felicity of wearing his Majesty the 
 Czir's uniform for the period of four years. It 
 was natural Mendel should feel anxiety about the 
 issue, because, if he happened to draw the red 
 ticket instead of the white, it would entail certain 
 monetary remedies to rectify the mistakes of 
 chance. His parents were equally anxious. 
 
 "If he doesn't draw the white, it will mean four 
 hundred rouble^," said his father. 
 
 " God forbid, Simon," said his wife ; "don't let us 
 open our mouth to evil." 
 
 And then the two of them sat down with their 
 psalm-book and shook their bodies over its con- 
 tents in a paroxysm of devotion. Fryda came in 
 and sat close to them, and she prayed for her 
 lover with little prayers of her own making. 
 Jonah went out as he saw her enter. Nobody asked 
 him to stop, because nobody thought for a moment 
 that his supplications would be any assistance. 
 
 But not even the old people's psalms nor the 
 young girl's benedictions proved of any avail. 
 When Mendel came back that evening they could 
 read the red ticket on his face. However, old 
 Simon was a practical man. To begin with, he 
 shrugged his shoulders : then he asked : " When 
 must the exemption money be paid?" 
 
 " The day after to-morrow by mid-day ; if not, 
 I must serve," replied Mendel. 
 
 " Very good," said the old man. 
 
 The following morning he was up betimes, drove 
 into the next town to fetch the money from the 
 local Rabbi with whom it had been deposited for 
 the emergency. It had taken them three years to 
 save up ; it represented much work and toil. But 
 it was worthily applied. Such a child as Mendel 
 
TO THE GLORY OF GOD. 247 
 
 deserved everything ; he had earned for his parents 
 moie credit and honour than could be bought for 
 ten times that amount. It was a joy to make 
 sacrifices for him. What a contrast he was to 
 Jonah, from whom his parents had never had a 
 moment's happiness — Jonah, the peace-breaker, the 
 would-be assassin, the gamester, and — as people 
 had told his father only a day or two ago — the 
 drunkard. Yes, that was the explanation of the 
 sullen, sinister look on his face, the grudging 
 replies, the long absences from home. Ah, but his 
 parents would have their revenge. When his time 
 came to serve, there would not be a copeck ready 
 to buy him out. Let him serve ; let him suffer 
 tribulation to chasten his soul. But they must 
 keep their ewe-lamb, their own dear Mendel. 
 
 " Take care of them," said old Simon to the 
 latter, handing him the packet of rouble-notes late 
 that evening. 
 
 " You can be sure I shall," replied Mendel, with 
 a laugh. 
 
 And then he went up to his room and placed 
 them solicitously in the safest place he could find 
 — under his pillow, undressed and went to bed, 
 because he had to be up early in the morning. 
 . On the table he had stuck a short candle-stump ; 
 it was so short that it could not be used again, but 
 it was a pity to waste the little that remained. By 
 its light he could still read a whole chapter of 
 Gemorah. So he fetched out the book and set to 
 work. It was an easy passage and did not require 
 much exertion. Perhaps it was that which made 
 him drowsy ; but no, he would finish the chapter. 
 His eyes closed ; the next moment they were open 
 again. Then they kept closed a little longer- 
 longer still, till they were shut altogether. Mendel 
 was asleep. 
 
248 TO THE GLORY OF GOD. 
 
 But the candle-stump was awake — a quarter of 
 an inch of it. By and by the wick got down to 
 the level of the table, gasping and choking, for its 
 life-element, the tallow, had melted away. A little 
 of it had got soaked into the wood ; the wick-flame 
 followed it, swallowed it, and stretched oat an ever- 
 lengthening tongue in its desperate desire for 
 more. Greedily the flame licked the worm-eaten 
 timber, crept further and further until it had gained 
 a sure hold and then it rose up like the flag of the 
 besieger over a captured fortress. 
 
 Mendel slept on ; suddenly something tickled 
 his throat, something bit him on the cheek. He 
 leapt up, but his cry of terror became stifled in the 
 reverberations of the lurid smoke. Where was the 
 door? Thank God, his hand grasped the latch 
 and pulled it open just as the dancing fire-goblins 
 leapt triumphantly on to his pallet. 
 
 " Father, mother, the house is on fire — save your* 
 selves," he shouted, bursting into their chamber, 
 
 A minute after Mendel and his parents stood in 
 the street, just in time to see the gable-sheaves 
 convert themselves into fast bound sky-rockets. 
 There had been no need to warn Jonah ; he was 
 not sleeping in the house that night. 
 
 " Have you the roubles ? " gasped Simon suddenly. 
 
 Mendel's knee-joints gave way. 
 
 " God ! I have forgotten them — they were under 
 my pillow." 
 
 HI. 
 Jonah had spent the night on a truss of straw in 
 a shed half-a-mile away from the village, and so he 
 had remained ignorant of the calamity which had 
 befallen his paternal dwelling. Only when early 
 next morning he caught sight of the blackened 
 rafters of the upper story did he gain an explana- 
 
7'0 THE GLORY OF GOD, 249 
 
 tion of the uproar and tumult pervading the little 
 place. He came closer. The lower part of the 
 house had been saved, owing to the prompt and 
 strenuous intervention of the neighbours. A cart 
 was standing at the door, and beside it a curious 
 scene was enacting itself Mendel was embracing 
 his mother ; his father stood by with streaming 
 eyes and clasped hands ; at a little distance was 
 Fryda, stiff as a statue, her face haggard and agony- 
 drawn. 
 
 " The money was upstairs, and got burnt," Jonah 
 heard one of the bystanders say; " it has to be paid 
 by twelve o'clock to-day, if not, he must go. Four 
 hundred roubles! Where is one to get four hundred 
 roubles in four hours?" 
 
 A thrill of demoniac delight went through Jonah. 
 He understood now why he had been requested to 
 take up his quarters elsewhere for the night. There 
 had been a lot of money in the house, and they 
 were afraid — that was what they had come to think 
 of him. Aye, why should he not feel glad ? Was 
 not God fighting on his side? Now was the 
 moment of his revenge, now he could feast his 
 hatred and batten on the heart-blood which was 
 here flowing in torrents. 
 
 He strained forward eagerly. Mendel had finished 
 taking leave of his parents, and had turned to 
 Fryda. Jonah was curious what she would say. 
 She said nothing ; she only looked at Mendel, and 
 then a long sob came fathom and fathom deep out 
 of her soul. The sound made Jonah wonder at 
 himself; it ought to be sweet music in his ears, but 
 instead, it made him writhe as if some one were 
 jangling his own heart-strings with ruthless fingers. 
 If he heard it but once more they would snap 
 altogether, and he could not afford that ; he only 
 had one heart 
 
250 TO THE GLORY OF GOD. 
 
 "Mendel, I shall go as substitute," he said,steppirig 
 up to him. 
 
 His brother looked at him, dazed, and Jonah 
 went on in an undertone: "It is only my idea of 
 bringing my mite to the glory of God." 
 
 The next moment he was up in the cart, gently 
 pushed the waggoners on one side, and had started 
 the horses into a gallop. He wanted to get away 
 before Fryda could thank him. 
 
 But thank him she did. The following morning 
 the recruits were passing along the high-road skirt- 
 ing the village. The population had turned out en 
 7nasse to watch them. It was a dismal sight — more 
 like a troop of condemned criminals going to their 
 doom. In the last row marched Jonah, a smile on 
 his face, and whistling softly to himself; he was the 
 only one among them who carried himself like a 
 man who hopes something from his future. But 
 he kept his eyes in front ; he knew his parents and 
 brother stood by the roadside, and he did not want 
 to humiliate them. Suddenly, however, he felt two 
 soft arms round his neck, and a long, warm kiss on 
 his lips. 
 
 " To the glory of God," whispered Fryda, and 
 the next moment she had again vanished into the 
 crowd. 
 
 " You needn't split one's head with your whist- 
 ling, just because a pretty girl has kissed you/' said 
 Jonah's neighbour morosely : " you aren't the first 
 man to whom that has happened." 
 
 But Jonah only whistled. 
 
The flmbusb of 
 
 Conscience. 
 
 I. 
 
 A HARD sullen November sky. There were 
 no clouds, only an expanse of untinted mur- 
 kiness massed thickly, impenetrably. Hour after 
 hour the impetuous north-wind, resenting its life- 
 less monotony, had led his boisterous battalions 
 against it to make it wince, until he had screamed 
 himself hoarse with anger. But the black mass 
 overhead lay there unmoved in leaden apathy. 
 Now and then a few drops trickled out of it. Per- 
 haps it was weeping tears of humiliation that it 
 had not been deemed worthy of a soul to feel with. 
 The steppe underneath was not so badly off. 
 At least it had been given a voice. It spoke in 
 the whimperings of the disconsolate little grass- 
 blades, in the whining of the shrivelled underbrush. 
 Here and there, too, it had opened into rifts and 
 fissures, like the parting of lips ; but these were 
 not for speech. With them the hard-driven glebe 
 drew its breath ; for the pores which served that 
 purpose when the year was more propitious, had 
 shrunk and closed up with the vice-like cold. But 
 between sky and earth there hovered, as it were, a 
 spirit of kinship, born of the likeness which stands 
 
HS2 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 out more strongly between things unsightly than 
 between things beautiful. Now, if ever, they could 
 not mistake that they were both the fashioning of 
 the same hand, and so took hope again by virtue 
 of that conviction. Each was glad that it was not 
 solitary in its discomfiture. 
 
 As though to reconcile them still more to their 
 elemental misery, there came a pageant of human 
 woe, a pomp of squalor and rags and wretchedness. 
 On and on it passed in sore-footed, way-worn 
 weariness — a caravan of shadows which seemed to 
 have strayed from their former selves, and were 
 now voyaging through the world to find them. 
 But no, these were not phantoms. They spoke and 
 groaned and ached ; and pain — as the dead clouds 
 knew — is the test of life. They felt their life 
 keenly enough, these men, women and children ; 
 a good many of them had long come to the opinion 
 that they would not feel their death-pangs so 
 acutely. But they had no choice. There was just 
 cne thing to do — to go on and onward towards 
 their destination, if it pleased God they should 
 ever reach it. The v^ayfarers comprised fifty 
 Jewish families, uprooted by a sudden ordinance 
 from their homesteads in the Interior, and now in 
 transit to the far-off Pale of Settlement. 
 
 And so they had been fighting the distance that 
 lay between as one fights an enemy. Every verst 
 they covered was a victory, every mile a triumph. 
 But these conquests had left their mark on them 
 without and within. They were evidenced in the 
 sallow faces, the huddled frames, the sinewless 
 limbs. Yet they had wrought their more ghastly 
 work inwardly. They had left the pilgrims' hearts 
 beating — but that was all. Each one felt its own 
 throes, but not its neighbour's. For there is nothing 
 more terrible than the selfishness of the wretched, 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 253 
 
 whose motto has become : Every one for himself 
 and God for us all. So the palsied groups struggled 
 on, each man shepherding his own flock, and 
 answering his fellow's cry of distress by mockingly 
 pointing to his own despair. 
 
 Gregor Malakof stood at one of the many win- 
 dows of his farm-house, watching the dismal com- 
 pany defiling past. On his left hand a huge 
 wolf-hound had upreared himself, front paws on 
 the ledge, and growling angrily at the strange 
 apparitions. His tongue lolled out all its length, 
 because his master held him so tightly in leash. 
 To Gregor's right was Marfa, his widowed mother. 
 An evil smile played about her withered lips. 
 
 " Suppose you let Kalash loose for a minute or 
 two," she said, as the hound uttered a fiercer snarl. 
 And when her son remained "silent, she went on : 
 " What a stampede there would be among the 
 scare-crows. Do, there's a good boy. It is so 
 dull on the farm — I haven't laughed for a long time." 
 
 The young man shrugged his shoulders. " Your 
 eyes are playing you false," he replied ; " these are 
 not wolves." 
 
 " No, not wolves, but worse," she said, throwing 
 him a covert glance of vexation. " Curses on the 
 Christ-slayers. How my heart leaps with pleasure 
 at the sight ; now they feel as Christ felt carrying 
 the cross to Calvary. Virgin Mother, look on your 
 revenge." 
 
 "If you ask her to look, you ask her to weep," 
 said Gregor, biting his lip. 
 
 " Yes, with joy at their misery. I know better ; 
 she has taken her woman's heart with her into 
 Heaven, and she remembers the crown of thorns. 
 Thorns into their eyes, thorns into their feet, sa 
 that they go blind and lame. Look, Gregor, how 
 that man there is beating his little boy. Strike 
 
254 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 harder, Judas— kill your brood before it can breed 
 more Judases." 
 
 " Mother, you talk like a child," said Gregor, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 With a quick gesture she placed her arm round 
 his neck. 
 
 " Little Gregor, you are not cross with me ? " she 
 fawned. " When you frown darkness comes over 
 my eyes. How I love you, my only one, my sole 
 and single joy. 
 
 " And, therefore, you need not vent all your 
 hatred on these unfortunate wretches," he said, 
 more gently. 
 
 " Not if it displeases you. See, they have all 
 passed by. Tell me, are they not accursed, when 
 the mere sight of them has nearly caused strife 
 between mother and son ? " 
 
 " Let us forget them," was the quiet answer ; 
 " there are pleasanter things one may remember 
 than nightmares stalking about in broad daylight." 
 
 He bent forward and peered ahead. Was it to 
 disengage himself from the embrace? 
 
 " What are you looking at ? " asked Marfa, 
 craning her neck. 
 
 " Two women. The younger is carrying the older 
 on her back. They are stragglers from the main 
 body." 
 
 Marfa's face resumed its evil smile. " Yes, I am 
 just beginning to see them. They will never catch 
 the others up. Ugh ! I should not like to cross the 
 marsh-valley with a carcase on my shoulders." 
 
 Gregor made no answer, but watched keenly. 
 Now the older woman had alighted on the giound 
 and came tottering on, supported round the waist 
 by her companion's arm. Step by step they 
 picked their way till they were abreast of the 
 window, and then with a lurch and a thud the 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 255 
 
 woman measured her length in the roadway. 
 A wail of agony broke from the girl as she bent 
 down to raise her. Painfully she got her into a 
 sitting posture, and thence endeavoured to hoist 
 her up again on to her strong young back. But 
 the inert limbs could not grip. Time after time 
 the girl made the attempt, until, convinced of its 
 futility, she threw herself on her knees, and broke 
 into a fit of sobbing. 
 
 With a smothered oath Gregor turned towards 
 the door. 
 
 " Don't go out to help them," Marfa screamed 
 after him ; " it's all a comedy, they want us to pity 
 them and give them money." 
 
 The slam of the door answered her. Quickly 
 Gregor secured Kalash in his kennel, because his 
 presence would not be advisable on the scene of 
 action. And as Gregor came up close, a glance 
 told him that this was not a matter of comedy — or 
 at least one in which Death was hovering in the 
 side-wings, impatiently waiting his call. 
 
 The girl looked up on hearing the approaching 
 footsteps, with a flicker of hope in her eyes. 
 Perhaps a little bit of God's mercy had lost its 
 way into these desolate regions. 
 
 " You see what we are," she said, advancing and 
 talking to him in his own tongue; "this is my 
 mother, and we are Jewesses. But remember that 
 without us you would not have been a Christian. 
 You owe us payment for that. Give us shelter for 
 one night, among your cattle — it does not matter. 
 If not kill, us quickly, and we shall bless you with 
 our last breath." 
 
 He looked at her hard, but not with the sort of 
 look that should bring the blood to an honest 
 woman's cheek. Then silently, or at least with a 
 short gesture of assent, he stepped past her to 
 
256 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 where her mother was watching him with eyes of 
 piteous anxiety. In a moment he had gathered 
 her up in his arms, gently and skilfully, as only 
 men of giant strength can do these things. 
 
 *' Follow me," he said to the girl. 
 
 So they came to the little avenue of elms 
 leading up to the house. Gregor entered the long, 
 stone-floored corridor, and pushed open the second 
 door on the left. They stood in a neat comfortable 
 chamber, snug and homely despite jts furniture 
 of planed wood. In a corner was a pallet with 
 pillows and covering of eider-down. The sick 
 woman eyed it hungrily — if he would only lay her 
 there. And as Gregor deposited her upon it, she 
 feebly caught both his hands and had covered 
 them with kisses before he could snatch them 
 away. 
 
 " See to her," he said to the girl, who was looking 
 on dazed ; " I shall be back presently." 
 
 As he came out into the passage he caught sight 
 of Marfa's head peeping out from the doorway 
 opposite. He took no notice of her, but locked the 
 chamber containing his strange visitors, put the 
 key in his pocket, and walked on to the hayloft at 
 the back of the house. He climbed the ladder, and 
 in a minute or two was down again with a truss of 
 straw on his shoulder. 
 
 At the bottom Marfa was waiting for him, her 
 face distorted with anger. 
 
 " You surely are not going to lodge the infidels 
 in the house ? " she asked with fictitious calm. 
 
 " Yes, why not ? The woman will not live till 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " But if you are in your right mind you will not 
 expect me to pass the night under one roof with 
 them ? " 
 
 " There is no compulsion, mother ; you will easily 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 257 
 
 find accommodation with one of the tenants in the 
 village." 
 
 Marfa's eyes shot sparks of fire. " Listen all the 
 world," she almost screamed ; "the son is turning 
 his mother out of house and home for the sake of 
 two vagabond hussies ! " 
 
 " The son is bidding his mother to follow her own 
 pleasure," echoed Gregor ; " can a son be more 
 dutiful ? " 
 
 " Have you no pride of your own ? " she went on 
 venomously. " The descendant of two score landed 
 gentlemen is making a pack-ass of himself as if he 
 had not a single farm-hand on his estate — and for 
 whom ? I can hear your father gnashing his teeth 
 in heaven." 
 
 " You have good ears," said Gregor, drily. " As 
 for the men, they have their own work, and quite 
 enough of that. This charge I have made mine 
 entirely — unless you care to help me." 
 
 Before she had time to frame a reply, he had 
 fixed his load more securely and was striding off. 
 Softly he let himself into the chamber and slipped 
 the truss on the floor. 
 
 "This is all I can do for you by way of a couch," 
 he said to the girl, who was chafing her mother's 
 hands ; " in that cupboard, though, you will find a 
 bear-rug to keep you warm in the night. And now 
 you will want food." 
 
 He locked the room as before, walked into the 
 kitchen, and, unconcerned at the curious glances 
 of the maidservants, possessed himself of a wheat- 
 loaf and a jug of milk. When he came back, the 
 woman had fallen into a heavy slumber, and her 
 breath came short and irregular. He scarcely had 
 need to look at the ashen pallor of her face to know 
 what that betokened. The girl sat by her side, seem- 
 ingly unconscious of all save that her mother slept. 
 
258 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 " Eat," he said, setting the victuals before her. 
 " I must wait till mother can eat as well," she 
 replied. 
 
 He checked the impulse to utter what was on 
 his tongue, and instead urged her again. This time 
 she acquiesced. He watched her in silence. He 
 noted she was younger than sh6 had appeared at 
 first sight. The tense misery of her face had relaxed, 
 and now it showed pure oval, with all the sharp 
 edge-lines softened into curves. The dull film had 
 drawn off from her eyes, so that they shone like a 
 mirror cleansed of its cobwebs. Her hair, too, had 
 taken to itself a sabler tint and framed her temples 
 with a flashing darkness. He had guessed at the 
 potentialities of that face as he first saw it glorify 
 the drab and dreary roadside into something like 
 a garden-walk ; but he had not expected that it 
 would consummate itself so quickly and leave no 
 further margin for perfection. And now he knew 
 why that feeling of awe was upon him. Nature 
 was boundless, infinite, and he had been privileged 
 to look upon one of her limits. 
 
 Meantime she was eating, at first mechanically, 
 as though only in deference to his bidding; but 
 soon her hunger asserted its claims, and insisted 
 on being gratified on its own merits. Suddenly 
 she recollected an omission, 
 
 " I have not thanked you," she said. 
 
 " What for ? You asked me to cancel a debt, and 
 I have done so." 
 
 *' The whole world repudiates it," she remarked 
 bitterly, " and you " 
 
 "And I am redeeming it from the charge of 
 ingratitude," he broke in ; she knew not whether 
 in jest or earnest. "You seem to have had sad 
 experiences ; you must have suffered much," he 
 went on. 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 259 
 
 " More than the others ; I have sufifered for two," 
 she said with a glance at the form on the pallet. 
 " She has not slept in a bed for sixteen days." 
 
 " Why have you come by this route } Why did 
 you not go by rail 1 " 
 
 " Because we did not have enough money for the 
 fare. We were driven out at three days' notice, and 
 that did not leave us time to sell our homes. 
 Besides, who would buy when he knew that after 
 very little waiting he would be able to go and lay 
 his hands on whatever pleased his eyes ? No one 
 is so unthrifty. And so we packed together what 
 we could carry in clothes and more valuable be- 
 longings, and went out with God in our hearts, and 
 little money in our pockets. But what we had 
 served us for food and shelter — of a kind — up to 
 the present ; and now I understand we are only two 
 days' journey from our destination. However, we 
 have set four graves for sign-posts to show the 
 road we came." 
 
 Gregor was thinking there would probably be a 
 fifth soon, but he kept that to himself 
 
 " I am glad I happened to be at home," he said. 
 " I had business elsewhere, but I sent somebody 
 instead." 
 
 The girl did not echo him. She found nothing 
 strange in the lucky chance ; did she not say they 
 had gone out with God in their hearts ? And if 
 she did not give as much thought to her host's 
 kindness as it deserved, it was for the same reason. 
 One is not beholden to the tool but to the artificer. 
 
 However, she was quickly reminded of her 
 default. The woman on the couch stirred and 
 stretched out her hand as though groping through 
 darkness. 
 
 " Rachel," she said. 
 
 The girl leapt up ; her mother's voice had be- 
 
26o THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 come strangely husky, and it was only with diffi- 
 culty that she caught the words that followed : — 
 
 " If the Gentile comes, tell him I have left him 
 my blessing. I should have been ashamed to enter 
 Paradise had I died in the open air like a beast of 
 the field." 
 
 " Why, what are you saying ? " queried Rachel 
 in painful wonder ; ** the Gentile is here — don't 
 you see him ? " 
 
 " What a pity we cannot take this copper 
 cauldron away with us," went on the husky voice ; 
 *' it belonged to my mother before me, and would 
 have been yours — an honest, clean cauldron, and 
 now the gendarme's wife will boil pig's flesh in it. 
 But it was too heavy. Yes, tell the Gentile I have 
 blessed him." 
 
 Rachel turned round despairingly, but Gregor 
 had gone out. Five minutes afterwards was heard 
 the sound of horse-hoofs galloping, and presently 
 he came back. 
 
 " I have sent for a doctor," he said quietly ; " if 
 only he comes soon enough." 
 
 But he knew well that, however soon the doctor 
 came, it would still be too late. And so it was. 
 About midnight, Kalash broke out into furious 
 barking, which gradually thinned off into an abject 
 whine. It is said that four-footed things, not 
 having an immortal soul, are condemned to see 
 that which is mercifully concealed from human 
 eyes. For that was the time when the Shadow of 
 Death entered at the gate on his errand to the 
 woman upon the pallet. 
 
 II. 
 
 Gregor saw to the burial arrangements — it could 
 hardly be called a funeral. By the following after- 
 noon the plain deal-box was in readiness, and two 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 261 
 
 sturdy farm-hands carried it to the grave which 
 had been dug outside the fence that encompassed 
 the estate on the north side. Rachel followed, and 
 at a little distance, Gregor brought up the rear. 
 At first he had thought of doing the sexton work all 
 by himself, but in the end he changed his mind. 
 He did not want her to recollect him as the man 
 who buried her mother. The grief stricken are not 
 always over-generous in their impressions. And 
 her grief was of the selfish sort, showing no tear 
 and making no clamour, as though it had frozen in 
 her heart. 
 
 And so she watched the men silently at their 
 work, and when the grave had grown into a hillock 
 she turned quietly away. In a moment Gregor 
 was beside her. 
 
 " If you like I shall harness four horses, and in a 
 few hours you will catch up with your people," he 
 said. 
 
 She paused a moment in thought, and then 
 forced the words to her lips : 
 
 " You already have many servants, but perhaps 
 you can make use of one more. Set me your 
 humblest task, make me your meanest drudge — I 
 shall be content ; only let me sit each day for a 
 little time by my mother's grave." 
 
 He looked astonished, incredulous, and then his 
 eyes lit up. 
 
 " What, you want to stay here ? " and he bent 
 down to get his answer from her face, as well as 
 from her words. 
 
 " As your meanest servant," she repeated. 
 
 He straightened himself " No, I cannot permit 
 that," came from him sharply. '' Not as my ser- 
 vant," he went on as he saw her face fall, ** as my 
 guest. That is my condition. You shall come 
 and go, as pleases you. Your word shall be a 
 
262 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 command as much as mine, and woe to the one 
 who disobeys. I am master here." 
 
 Rachel gazed dumbly before her ; then she 
 shivered. He noted the shiver. 
 
 "What are you thinking of?" he asked. 
 
 " Your mother came into the room this morning," 
 was her reply ; " she said nothing, but oh, how she 
 looked at me ! If only she had spoken her curses- 
 and not looked them." 
 
 " You fear my mother?" he put in quickly. " I 
 admit she does not take kindly to — to strangers " 
 — she knew what his hesitation meant — " but if 
 you will trust a man's word, you need have no fear 
 of any one's hatred, loud or silent." 
 
 " True, you may protect me against your mother," 
 she said pensively. 
 
 " Well ? " he urged. 
 
 She made no answer, but the flush of maiden 
 modesty spoke her thought clearly enough. 
 
 " You mean, who will protect you against me," 
 he said. " I understand. As my servant, my pride 
 of place will be your safeguard. As guest and 
 equal, you think " 
 
 There was a momentary silence, and then she 
 looked at him fearlessly as she said : " I shall be 
 my own safeguard. At the worst there will be 
 occasion for another grave beyond the fence." 
 
 So Rachel stayed on at the farm, She had taken 
 clear counsel with herself on the point. She would 
 remain there — unless she were told to go before — 
 she would remain until she could trust herself to 
 leave the spot, where her mother's last breath 
 hovered, without also leaving behind her heart, 
 her reason, her faculties of life. And that after 
 all was but the ignobler view ; there was another, 
 far more cogent. What would her mother think 
 if she went aw^y at once } Would it not seem she 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 263 
 
 had but waited to be relieved of the burden to see 
 how quickly her young feet could carry her unen- 
 cumbered ? No, this mother of hers deserved a 
 little more tending, a little more watching. The 
 desolate steppe was but sorry company for the 
 living — how much more for the dead ? The only 
 thing that had given her pause at first was her 
 host. What if his generosity meant rfiore than 
 lay on the surface t And then she recollected she 
 had answered that question herself But if she 
 had still further need of reassurance, she had not 
 long to wait for it. The day after the funeral she 
 found the little hillock encased in massive slabs of 
 granite. 
 
 " It is not meant so much for a monument," he 
 explained to her, almost in tones of apology, "but 
 the winter sometimes drives the wolves as far as 
 the villages, and then all is grist that comes to 
 their molars." 
 
 After that Rachel knew he could be trusted. 
 
 Since then five weeks had gone by. Rachel had 
 become more or less an institution, but that was 
 all the difference her presence made to her sur- 
 roundings. She lived through the days aimlessly, 
 dividing her time equally between her room and 
 the steppe. With the lapse of time the sense of 
 her loss and loneliness came home to her more 
 fully, and steeped her in lethargy that numbed all 
 desire of spontaneous action. She accepted her 
 life as one accepts the inevitable ; she knew 
 that sometimes Gregor came and talked to her, 
 and that she answered him — what or how seemed 
 immaterial. But through it all she was clearly con- 
 scious of the man's-word he had given her : he 
 had not uttered an idle boast — he was indeed 
 master in his house. No one molested her, no one 
 made bold to ask questions. Not even Marfa. 
 
364 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 She obeyed her son's injunction thoroughly enough. 
 If she never spoke to Rachel in anger, it was 
 because she never spoke to her at all. Whenever 
 the two met, Marfa walked past with averted head, 
 so that Rachel never saw the malice looming from 
 her eyes. And, therefore, her heart gave a sudden 
 leap when one day Marfa stopped her in her 
 course. 
 
 " What was your father } " she asked. 
 
 " A tanner," replied Rachel, making her answer 
 ring pleasant. 
 
 " You lie, he was a beggar, and so was his father 
 before him ; for if there were not beggar's blood in 
 your veins, you would not be content to eat the 
 bread of idleness at the hands of a stranger." 
 
 And then she walked on, with a more springing 
 step than Rachel had ever seen her. Yes, those 
 words must have lain upon her heavily. 
 
 Rachel, too, felt their weight as she pondered 
 over them in her solitude ; and from there she 
 took them to Gregor. 
 
 " I must go from here," she told him. 
 
 He dropped the curry-comb he was carrying. 
 
 '' Why ? " he asked, stooping to pick it up. 
 
 " Because it has just come into my mind that I 
 am eating the bread of idleness at the hands of a 
 stranger." 
 
 " Do you want to go } " he asked in a curious 
 tone, which seemed half pain, half anger. 
 
 " I should not have gone for a little while, but 
 the thought is lashing me forth." 
 
 He turned away, consulting with himself 
 
 " And suppose there is a way by which that 
 which is yours now by favour would become yours 
 by right ? " 
 
 " What way could that be ? " she queried, 
 bewildered. 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 265 
 
 " Marry me." 
 
 She hung her head sadly. It was indeed time 
 she should go ; an abomination she was already, 
 and now she had become a jest as well. 
 
 "You are startled," he continued, "and yet I 
 thought I had prepared you for it sufficiently. 
 Perhaps you did not see because your eyes were 
 blindfold with your sorrow." 
 
 " I saw nothing," she said simply. 
 
 " Then you shall hear now. From the moment 
 I saw you, I knew I would love you. I shall not 
 dissemble. I am no saint ; it was not mere charity 
 that made me pity you. My heart felt hungry for 
 love. I had looked round me, but I found no one 
 who might satisfy it, till you came. And therefore 
 I would not let you pass by, because I know that 
 Providence is no prodigal." 
 
 " But it is impossible," she said, her perplexity 
 growing. 
 
 " Why is it impossible ^ " His tone was almost 
 harsh. 
 
 " Your God is different to mine." 
 
 " What if He is ? Let them fight it out among 
 themselves which of them is right. We, too, 
 shall know, when our time comes. Till then, let 
 us take our Paradise beforehand. Keep your God, 
 but give me your heart." 
 
 " Keep my God," she echoed ; " you say that 
 easily. How could I ? You know the law of the 
 land, which says that the Christian who marries a 
 woman of my race unless she turns proselyte 
 lays himself open to terrible penalties. Would it 
 be requiting your kindness if I allowed you to 
 hurl yourself into peril on my account ? Ah, and 
 you do not know how strange and unreal seem to 
 me your gorgeous images, your crucifixes, your 
 droning priests, and your bending of knees." 
 
266 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Gregor heard her with eager hopefulness. She 
 was arguing, and her argument was half surrender. 
 
 " You mean you hate them," he replied ; " you 
 need have no compunction in saying so. To me 
 as well they are not an indispensable delight. I 
 will not admit more. Look, I am not asking for 
 such a great thing. If your own belief is strong in 
 itself, surely it will not take harm from a reverence 
 or two before a crucifix, or a few drops of water from 
 the font. I desire your pretending these things only 
 because that will make you my wife incontestably, 
 and leave your position assured should anything 
 happen to me. Why, when you have done with 
 the priest, go straight to your chamber and make 
 your peace with the God of your belief" 
 
 " And will my conscience make peace with me.^" 
 she queried. 
 
 " Why not ? You are not the first of your race 
 who has given tribute to circumstance. Have you 
 not heard of your people in Spain and the In- 
 quisition ? " 
 
 " But they were redeemed by their necessity.'* 
 
 " And are you not redeemed by yours ? " he 
 asked quickly. " Tell me, when you go from under 
 my roof, do you know where next you will find 
 shelter ? Suppose I refuse to lend you my horses, 
 suppose I refuse to equip you for your journey ; 
 do you think you will live to set your foot across 
 another threshold ? Would that be pleasing to 
 your God, or does your creed not count suicide 
 amongst its sins ? Think well — self-murder is not 
 martyrdom " 
 
 Rachel stood pensive, her eyes seeking the 
 distant horizon. He was right ; before she had 
 come only as far as her eyes could reach now, she 
 might be dead ten times over. No, she did not 
 want to go hence ; it was horrible to die in the 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 267 
 
 desert— her mother had dreaded it too. And, again, 
 if she survived, would it not be v^^orse ? She v^ould 
 find no rest ; her heart would be ever dragging her 
 back to this spot. Once she went away, God 
 knew if she would ever again set eyes on the 
 granite-decked hillock by the fence. This house 
 was home to her — her mother's spirit permeated it. 
 It was here her mother's soul would come to seek 
 her ; and when it did not find her, it would wander 
 about searching for her, and in the end perhaps 
 miss its way back into heaven. Oh, she knew the 
 transgression it would be to wed this Christian ; 
 and yet had her mother not blessed him ? Such a 
 blessing would sanctify a parricide, and the man 
 who now pleaded with her — for her, should be 
 hallowed in her eyes. 
 
 " I shall try to recompense your faith in me," 
 she said, turning to him ; " if I can add one grain 
 to your contentment " 
 
 " One grain ? " he broke in fiercely, " a thousand 
 grains, a million — a granary full ; oh, my heart's 
 desire." 
 
 The vast courtyard was empty ; only Kalash 
 was scrutinising them keenly from his kennel, and 
 just then he set up a furious howl, for the strange 
 woman's body was strained closely against his 
 master's. Was it for this he had, in this same 
 master's rescue, bitten those three wolves to death 
 only last winter, that she should now come and do 
 him grievous hurt, while he himself was uselessly, 
 impotently, tugging at his chain ? 
 
 "Now I feel strong enough for anything," said 
 Gregor, releasing her ; " I shall go and tell my 
 mother." 
 
 " Would that I could help you," she said. 
 
 " You have done your share already ; I must do 
 mine." 
 
268 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Quickly he disappeared into the house. Marfa 
 was sitting in her room, darning socks in pretended 
 unconcern. 
 
 " The tale-bearer," she muttered, as she saw him 
 enter ; " she has told him. Now there will be 
 thunder. Very well ; my wheels, too, do not 
 always turn on greased axles." 
 
 " Mother, I have something to say to you," 
 began Gregor. 
 
 " I know — about her," said Marfa, jerking her 
 head defiantly. 
 
 " You know ? " asked Gregor, taken aback, " I 
 have only just come to know it myself." 
 
 " Know what ? " 
 
 " That she is going to be my wife." 
 
 Marfa showed her crooked yellow teeth ; it made 
 one's own ache to look at them. 
 
 " Your wife ? You mean before God, as the 
 saying goes." 
 
 Gregor frowned. " And before the world too — 
 my lawful wife. We have surmounted all dif^culties. 
 She will turn Christian." 
 
 " Is that the only difificulty ? " asked Marfa. 
 
 " I can think of no other that should count." 
 
 " Then why have you told me ? " 
 
 " Because I thought you might like to know that 
 you have two children now instead of one." 
 
 Marfa waited, although she had her answer ready. 
 
 " She is standing outside, mother. Go and tell 
 her you are glad. 
 
 "It is true I have always longed for a daughter," 
 was Marfa's answer ; " but sooner than have such 
 a one, may I go childless to the grave." 
 
 " As you please, mother," said Gregor, turning 
 on his heel. 
 
 But before he had reached the door he felt her 
 agonised grip on his arm ; she was on her knees. 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 269 
 
 " By the redemption of the crucified One, do not 
 put this shame on me," she wailed ; " do not set an 
 accursed thing in the place I have made holy. 
 Cast the pollution from out your doors. I knew 
 an evil spirit had entered the house as soon as I 
 saw her. She has woven impious spells around 
 you ; she has put this wayward desire into your 
 bosom to work destruction for us both. She will 
 cajole your heart from me, and unless you requite 
 my love I shall die." 
 
 ** If you loved me, as you say, you would not have 
 cursed me." 
 
 " Forgive — I was frenzied with despair. It is all 
 her doing; do you not see the ruin working 
 already ? Tell me if you have cause for complaint 
 in anything. Are you lacking in your comfort? 
 Do you want better ministering ? I shall leave 
 my bed with the sun and not return to it before 
 midnight, and all the hours shall be spent in your 
 service. Does that content you ? Send her away 
 — no, I shall not rise till you have promised." 
 
 " Stand up, mother," he said. 
 
 She bounded up instantly ; there was no 
 mistaking the manner of his bidding. 
 
 " Am I not an obedient parent ? " she said 
 scathingly. " And now, pray, go to her and say 
 you have seen me grovelling at your feet, that I 
 have talked my mother-heart dry, and yet your 
 ears remained empty. Tell her I have wrestled 
 with her for my son, and that her witchcraft was 
 stronger than my throes of prayer. Yes, tell her 
 this, and when she pauses in the midst of her 
 wanton kisses and her lecherous looks, let her 
 laugh and make merry over my defeat. But tell 
 her this as well : I, too, can laugh. Hark, I am 
 laughing now : you can take that as my blessing 
 on your wedlock." 
 
270 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 Grcgor listened to the peals of frantic merriment 
 that jangled with each other like the clangings of 
 fissured bells, and, amid all his terror, he felt a 
 sort of tumultuous joy. No one could now gainsay 
 his claim to his wife ; he had bought her dearly at 
 the price of his mother's laughter. 
 
 Rachel, too, heard it outside. She knew not 
 what it betokened, but she clapped her hands to 
 her ears and wondered if the sound of it would 
 travel as far as the grave by the fence. And then 
 she was more glad than ever of the granite slabs 
 that armoured and made it impenetrable. 
 
 Such was the betrothal between Rachel and 
 Gregor, quiet and without ostentation. Whoever 
 knew of it was welcome to the knowledge, and 
 could pass it on or keep it to himself. Nor did 
 Marfa speak of it ; she carried her mad jealousy 
 about with her in sullen silence. Only when it 
 threatened to choke her she unbosomed herself to 
 old Bastian, who had been her husband's right 
 hand, and was now a sort of major-domo. 
 
 " Did you think," she would ask him, '' did you 
 think it would come to this, that when the young 
 master chose his wife we should have to make a 
 secret of it, for fear of shame and ridicule ? " 
 
 And Bastian would shake his head, and from 
 clenched teeth grind out curses on the heathen 
 interloper who had made havoc of his own hopes ; 
 for Bastian had himself a daughter, and he had 
 thought his master's choice would be different. 
 
 But the lovers gave no heed to Marfa's silence, 
 nor suspected Bastian's curses. They did not know 
 that as often as not Marfa was crouching, greedily 
 eavesdropping, outside the room where they were 
 holding converse — perhaps because she took delight 
 in torturing herself thus. One day, however, she 
 overheard something that made her ears grow 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 271 
 
 twice their length with curiosity. Amid the words 
 of her own language came interspersed sounds of a 
 strange tongue which Rachel enunciated and 
 Gregor repeated. It seemed they were going 
 through a lesson ; now and then Rachel called on 
 Gregor to recite what she had taught him — it was 
 just a verse which one might utter at a stretch 
 without having to draw breath twice. It was a 
 long time, though, before he knew it without flaw 
 or hitch, and more than once he excused himself 
 by saying it was because he paid more attention to 
 the teacher than to her teaching. But at last he 
 had it pat, and then Rachel said quite solemnly : 
 
 " Now I am ready for the priest." 
 
 That did not enlighten Marfa much ; but at any 
 rate it no longer came to her as a surprise when 
 she spied them going down to the village chapel 
 the following afternoon ; and although they were 
 in their everyday attire, she knew they would 
 return as man and wife. 
 
 An hour after Gregor and Rachel stood before 
 her. 
 
 " We thought it best not to trouble you, mother," 
 Gregor was saying. " Why conceal it ? You 
 have never made a secret of your displeasure ; your 
 heart was not in my choice. And so we have not 
 asked your company on our way to the altar, 
 because you might have thought we were deriding 
 you. You should be grateful to us for sparing you 
 that thought. Show that you are, by one kind 
 word to my bride." 
 
 For answer Marfa stepped to the window and 
 turned her back on them. 
 
 " Say something," repeated Gregor. And when 
 her silence continued, he took Rachel by the hand 
 and led her out. And yet Marfa would have 
 given a year of her life could she have asked them 
 
572 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 one question — the meaning of that strange-tongued 
 utteiance of yesterday. But she never knew, for 
 it was quite a private arrangement between Rachel 
 and Gregor and concerned no one else. It was a 
 whim of hers, and Gregor was not in the mood to 
 withhold her anything. So immediately they had 
 left Marfa's presence, they took their way to the 
 little vault by the fence, and there, by her mother's 
 grave, Gregor placed a plain gold hoop on the first 
 finger of Rachel's right hand, as slowly and clearly 
 he pronounced, in the grand old Bible-tongue, the 
 immemorial marriage formula : 
 
 " Behold thou art consecrated unto me by this 
 ring as a wife according to the Law of Moses and 
 of Israel." 
 
 III. 
 
 It was the morning after the marriage when 
 Gregor came to his mother, and told her she must 
 give up the keys of the household. Marfa became 
 purple as she asked his reason. 
 
 " You know the custom of our house as well as 
 I," he replied ; " the keys are kept by the wife of 
 the ruling squire." 
 
 " How do you know she will not lay hold of all 
 that is valuable and make off to-morrow morning?" 
 enquired Marfa. 
 
 " As a matter of fact I don't know," he 
 answered, " but I take the risk of that. And for 
 another thing I would ask you never again to forget 
 that she is my wife — whatever she was before." 
 
 " You may put a padlock on my lips, but not on 
 my thoughts," said Marfa defiantly. The next 
 moment she regretted her words ; they were im- 
 prudent. Still her exasperation might be counted 
 to excuse much. But henceforth she would be 
 cautiovis. 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 273 
 
 " Think what you like," said Gregor, in answer 
 to her defiance, " but first give me the key's." 
 
 Marfa unfastened the belt from which they 
 dangled in a bunch. Gregor nodded approvingly 
 as he took them. 
 
 " It is much better so, mother. Make the best 
 of things as they are. A soft heart begets a soft 
 heart. We ask of you nothing but to let us love 
 you." 
 
 " And therefore you do your best to humble me." 
 
 " A harsh word, mother ; and even if it were true, 
 there is kindness in it. So you know from the 
 start that my wife takes precedence over you. It 
 will save you disappointment hereafter." 
 
 Just then the door opened and Bastian stepped in. 
 
 " By the way," went on Gregor, turning to him, 
 " I noticed this morning that you passed my wife 
 without taking- off your cap and making a reverence. 
 If that happens again I shall order you to go bare- 
 headed for the rest of the winter. Think of my 
 words, mother." 
 
 He went out and left Marfa and Bastian looking 
 at each other. 
 
 "What did he tell you to think of?" asked 
 Bastian at last. 
 
 " Something that should make me dance with 
 joy," answered Marfa balefully, " something that 
 will come to me in my sleep with dreams of delight; 
 the Jew-girl first and I second. But don't grudge 
 me my pleasure ; he has given you too something 
 to keep in mind." 
 
 " Yes, if I do not crawl before her, it will be with 
 frozen ears that I shall listen to the twitter of the 
 birds next spring.'* 
 
 They were silent for a while, and then their eyes 
 met, and each knew what the other's brain har- 
 boured. 
 
274 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 " You speak first," said Marfa ; " you are the 
 man." 
 
 " But your hurt is the sorest," replied Bastian. 
 And Marfa spoke. 
 
 Three days after Gregor had to go to the winter 
 fair, fifteen miles off, to make purchases. He started 
 early, and took his swiftest horses, but even thus 
 he could not be back much before midnight. 
 
 An hour after he had gone Marfa remarked to 
 Bastian : 
 
 " I think there is no time like the present." 
 " Everything is ready," answered the latter ; "by 
 act of Providence I forgot to give Kalash his 
 supper last night, and he had no breakfast this 
 morning; he would eat his own mother. One of 
 the links in his chain is very loosely riveted ; just 
 a little provocation and one does not know what 
 he may do." 
 
 And Bastian laughed as if, after all, he had a 
 pretty shrewd idea what form Kalash's action 
 would take. 
 
 " Call her," said Marfa. 
 
 A minute or two later Rachel came in, surprised 
 and diffident. 
 
 " You sent for me," she said. 
 Marfa did not answer immediately ; her nether- 
 lip twitched as if she found it hard to contain her 
 emotion. Then she took Rachel's hand. 
 
 " You seem to find it strange," she began ; 
 " shame on me that you should. Hear me. I have 
 considered what I am doing — how J am under- 
 mining the happiness of my house, how I am 
 alienating from me my son, and thrusting away a 
 daughter's love. I have begun to feel cold and 
 strange at my own hearth, and the fault is mine, and 
 mine only. So I would make it good before it grows 
 beyond atonement. Or is it too late already ? " 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE, 275 
 
 Marfa lifted her eyes ; they were wet. Rachel's 
 own filled at the sight — she had never heard of 
 crocodile's tears. 
 
 " Too late, mother ? Nothing is too late till a 
 heart-throb after death ; and we have a good while 
 to live yet. Ay^, it will be a new life for you and 
 all of us. You shall never feel cold again. I shall 
 be always nigh and my heart's warmth shall make 
 yours glow. As for Gregor, we two shall make 
 common cause to strew his path with flowers, to 
 smooth from his brow the wrinkles that come to a 
 man in the affairs of life by our joint love-service — 
 not in the rivalry that halves the effort, but in the 
 fellowship that doubles it. And then you will only 
 begin to know how good it is to be a mother." 
 
 Marfa plucked her hand from Rachel's, which 
 had become too fervid in its clasp. 
 
 " How mistaken I have been in you," she said, 
 " and yet I should have trusted Gregor ; his feel- 
 ings could not lead him far astray. However, all 
 that is done with ; there only remains for me to 
 seal our reconciliation. I must prove to you I am 
 in earnest. I have not given you a marriage-gift. 
 You shall see." 
 
 She turned to the wardrobe and took from among 
 its contents a cotton frock, dyed crimson, such 
 as the better class of the women in those parts 
 affect. 
 
 " It is yours," she said, holding it out to Rachel ; 
 ** it will make a brave show, and will set off your 
 beauty as nothing else." 
 
 Rachel smiled with pleasure, but presently her 
 mien changed, and she became disconcerted. The 
 garment exhaled a stale, foetid odour. 
 
 " Quick, on with it," exclaimed Marfa, briskly ; 
 " I am dying to see how it becomes you. You 
 must wear it all day, and greet Gregor in it when 
 
276 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 he comes home to-night ; then he will not need 
 words to tell him what has happened." 
 
 And while speaking she had stripped Rachel of 
 the frock she was wearing, and had forced the other 
 upon her. Rachel offered no resistance, because 
 she was afraid of offending Marfa by giving token 
 of the distaste she felt for her gift. Marfa stepped 
 back to look at her; then she shook her head in 
 dissatisfaction. 
 
 '' It is so dark in this room, and the tint for all I 
 can see might be a drab yellow, instead of this 
 costly carmine. Ah, I have it. Just go out into 
 the courtyard, and walk down the length of it, and 
 then we shall see what colour the sunlight will 
 paint it. I shall watch here from the window." 
 
 Rachel gladly fell in with the suggestion. The 
 noisome exhalation was no trick of her fancy. It 
 became stronger with each breath she drew. 
 Probably it was some pungent disinfectant which 
 had preserved it from the moths, and which the 
 clear, frosty air would quickly dissipate. A moment 
 after she was outside, looking up at Marfa, who 
 nodded approvingly. With a smile — for her heart 
 was in the thing — Rachel strolled past, on parade 
 as it were, on towards Kalash's kennel. As she 
 came within five yards of it, she saw the hound 
 struggle to his feet and yap hungrily as he snuffed 
 the air with quivering nostrils. Rachel stopped 
 wonderingly. As a rule the animal greeted her 
 with a whine of pleasure ; perhaps it was the 
 flaunting colour which now disquieted him. She 
 took a step forward to pacify him, but the menacing 
 howl that assailed her made her shrink back aghast. 
 Suddenly he became very still, his body stiffened 
 and his eyes grew blood-rimmed, and then with a 
 furious onset he hurled himself forward all the 
 length of his chain. He alighted within half a 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 277 
 
 yard of Rachel's feet. Terrified she turned to 
 retrace her steps. Two more tugs like that and 
 Kalash would break either his chain or his neck — 
 it was as likely the chain. But when she came to 
 the door she found it closed. She tried the latch — 
 it would not work ; no doubt the rusty old thing 
 had caught somehow. However, she heard Marfa 
 come shuffling down the passage ; in a moment or 
 two she would be safe enough. And the danger was 
 urgent — Kalash had become frantic. Two stout 
 wisps of straw had got twined about his feet, and 
 the new impediment infuriated him beyond bounds. 
 
 " Quick," whispered Rachel, " the chain cannot 
 hold much longer." 
 
 She heard Marfa puffing and panting on the 
 other side, but she did not seem to be making 
 much headway. 
 
 "Quick, quick," urged Rachel. " O God, he is 
 loose!" 
 
 " Christ's mercy," shrieked Marfa ; " I have got 
 my finger jammed in the lock and cannot move. 
 Run ! run to the outhouses ; if not you are lost — 
 he has gone mad ! " 
 
 Rachel stared stupefied at the ravening brute. 
 The chain lay snapped, but he was still struggling 
 with his fetters of straw, which he had writhed into 
 a hopeless tangle. That was her chance. If she 
 could get out by the gate and slam it she might 
 reach the corn-shed before he had time to vault the 
 palisade. But when she had got half way she felt 
 him behind her. She heard the rattle of the broken 
 links and the swish of the trailing straw, and 
 presently she caught also his hard-drawn breath 
 whistling in little yelps of anger. Yet through it 
 all another sound struck her ears — a sound of 
 rumbling wheels and galloping horses. Perhaps 
 that meant deliverance, and with the fleetness 
 
278 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 which death gives to its own quarry, she flung 
 forward, dashed past the gate, and out into the 
 open road. And the next instant she felt two hairy 
 paws upon her shoulder, a briscly tongue rasped 
 against her cheek,and then a voice she did not imme- 
 diately recognise roared : " Down, Kalash, down." 
 
 Down went the hairy paws, and the great brute 
 cringed whimpering on the ground. And from 
 that Rachel knew, even without looking, who it was 
 that had saved her. 
 
 " What is this ? " asked Gregor, stepping up to 
 her and catching her round the waist. His face 
 was white and his voice hoarse, as if that one shout 
 had broken its strength. 
 
 Between her sobs Rachel gave an account of 
 what had happened, and as Gregor listened his 
 brows came low down over his eyes. 
 
 "And if I had not forgotten my money-belt I 
 should have come home to find you in twenty 
 pieces," he said at last. " Twenty pieces," he 
 repeated, as if there were some deep cause for the 
 repetition. His eyes fell on Kalash. The brute 
 crouched low, panting and whining, and now that 
 he saw his master's gaze upon him, he crept 
 forward inch by inch, rubbed his head against 
 Gregor's top boots, and peered up piteously into 
 his face. But Gregor's look did not soften at these 
 signs of contrition. He thought hard for a 
 moment and then said : " Come, Kalash." 
 
 So he walked to the middle of the yard, his 
 arm still supporting Rachel, and Kalash following 
 abjectly at his heels. Outside Marfa's window he 
 stopped. 
 
 " Turn round the other way for a moment," he 
 told Rachel. She obeyed without giving a thought 
 to what he meant. Immediately there was a loud 
 report, and as she started round she saw Kalash 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 279 
 
 motionless on his side, with a big hole in his 
 forehead. 
 
 "Oh, why did you kill him?" she moaned; 
 " did you not tell me you owe him your life ? " 
 
 " I owe him mine, but he nearly took yours in 
 payment," said Gregor, pocketing his still smoking 
 revolver. " That cancels the debt, and I wanted to 
 make sure he would not offend again." 
 
 Just then something caught his attention. 
 
 " What is this smell ? " he asked, stooping down 
 and bringing the hem of her frock close to his 
 face. Then his eyes dilated and his teeth gnashed. 
 
 " As I thought ; poor brute, it wasn't your fault 
 after all," he muttered, casting a swift glance at 
 Kalash ; " you could not help protesting that blood 
 was never meant to be used as a dye." 
 
 And then he said, raising his voice curiously : 
 
 " I must tell my mother not to give you any 
 more presents." 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Sleep, baby, sleep, 
 Your father minds the sheep ; 
 Your mother minds the cooking-pot. 
 Sleep, baby, sleep." 
 
 So sang Rachel to her three-months-old, 
 rhythmically dandling it in her arms. The said 
 baby listened attentively to these bare-faced 
 attempts on its wakefulness, and rewarded them 
 by opening its eyes to their widest. And then, 
 having raised its potential eyebrows as far as they 
 would go, it broke into a smile of derision. But 
 Rachel evidently considered this as a compliment 
 to her powers of song, to judge by the way she 
 pressed the nondescript bundle to her heart and 
 rained kisses on the little lips. 
 
 "What about my turn?" asked Gregor, who 
 watched the pair from a little distance. 
 
28o THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 *' There — ^just one ; she says she does not like 
 your kisses ; they taste too much of hair," jested 
 Rachel, holding the child up to him. 
 
 " Her mother thinks differently, at any rate," 
 repliedGregor,as he took his turn, and too much of it. 
 
 " You flatter yourself," retorted Rachel smilingly; 
 *• she only acts differently." 
 
 " So much the worse for her, if her actions do not 
 coincide with her thoughts. And for punishment 
 it will be a long time before she will again have the 
 chance of being inconsistent." 
 
 " Not so long as a year," she said, raising her 
 face to his. 
 
 He waved her off. "Your thoughts are yours, 
 and my kisses are mine," he said. 
 
 "Keep them, they are not worth asking for twice." 
 
 "And therefore you shall ask three times." 
 
 *' Asking for kisses makes them sour." 
 
 "Does it?" he queried anxiously; "and I hate 
 vinegar." 
 
 And so he took immediate precaution to forestall 
 the contingency against which she had warned him. 
 
 Marfa sat at the further end of the room, plying 
 her knitting needles. The horn spectacles over 
 her beaked nose gave her the aspect of an owl, nor 
 did the expression of face, with which she from 
 time to time regarded the group by the fire, do 
 much to enhance her beauty. When it came to the 
 kissing episode she got up and went out. 
 
 A long silence followed her exit. Gregor stared 
 into the blaze, wondering, as he did frequently, 
 what had made his father depart so far from local 
 traditions as to build the heating apparatus in the 
 shape of an open hearth instead of the customary 
 glazed brick structure. Then he looked at Rachel, 
 and it struck him that he too had considerably 
 deviated from local traditions. And Gregor hoped 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIEXCE. 281 
 
 he had inherited the good fortune of his father, who 
 had never been known to express dissatisfaction 
 with his experiment. So far there was no reason 
 to doubt it. 
 
 Rachel was musing on Marfa's exit. 
 
 " Your mother has not yet taken me to her 
 heart," she said at last. 
 
 Gregor did not answer, had he done so, it would 
 have been only to question his mother's possession 
 of a heart. 
 
 " She was kind to me just once," went on Rachel 
 reflectively, "the day she gave me the red frock, 
 and I heard you speak to her so harshly; perhaps 
 that was what made her turn cold again." 
 
 " I don't know ; I have not asked her," replied 
 Gregor curtly. 
 
 " I did, once, and her answer was such that I 
 have never put her a question since." 
 
 " I can hear Fedor with the horses," said Gregor, 
 getting up with alacrity as though glad of the 
 diversion. 
 
 " Can you not go another day ? " 
 
 " No, I have put it off as long as I could ; each 
 day we get nearer the spring the price of the sheep- 
 skins falls. In another week or two I should have 
 to give them away, only to be rid of them." 
 
 " Yes, I buppose you must go," she sighed; "look, 
 baby, look at poor daddy going away, from the 
 beautiful fire out into the cruel snow, and leaving us 
 all alone. Never mind ; we shall tell each other 
 stories, and the time will pass more quickly ; but 
 not quickly enough," she went on, looking up at her 
 husband. 
 
 '* I shall hurry, you can be sure," he replied. 
 
 " Yes, because " 
 
 " Well .? " 
 
 " Because — don't laugh— I feel afraid. I dreamt 
 
282 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 three nights in succession that I was wearing that 
 red frock and Kalash had broken his chain." 
 
 Gregor wrinkled his forehead. " Dreams are 
 stupid," he said ; " at best they are a bad habit, and 
 my wife must not have any bad habits." 
 
 " I shall never dream again as long as I live," 
 said Rachel timidly. Gregor had spoken to her 
 somewhat harshly ; was it because he did not like to 
 be reminded that he had Kalash on his conscience ? 
 Outside the horses were neighing and rattling their 
 collars. 
 
 " So then, till to-morrow night," said Gregor, his 
 voice softening down again into its old tenderness ; 
 " and if you are good and take care of baby, I shall 
 perhaps bring you a present." 
 
 " Then you may as well give it to me at once," 
 she answered smiling. 
 
 "This will do for a guarantee," he said as he 
 kissed her. 
 
 Long after she had heard the vehicle clatter out 
 of the courtyard Rachel sat and gazed into the 
 roaring blaze. She was thinking how happy she was. 
 And the proof of her happiness was that she could 
 think of it, gauge and fathom it, without feeling 
 shame or fear. In all these months there had not 
 come to her a single misgiving, not a throb of con- 
 trition at what she had done. And that was a sure 
 sign that God had forgiven her, and her only way 
 of showing herself grateful was to accept her 
 happiness and feel it to the full. Now, too, she 
 saw the purport of Marfa's enmity. Marfa was the 
 saving clause in her decree of fate, redeeming her 
 lot from the too utter perfectness which the human 
 heart is not wide enough to house. And therefore 
 she must pray henceforth that the edge of Marfa's 
 malice should never become blunt, so long as it 
 remained but a sharp sword sawing the air. 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 283 
 
 The opening of the door interrupted her. Old 
 Bastian looked in. 
 
 " The spinners from the village are here," he 
 announced. 
 
 " Why do they not come when my husband is at 
 home ? " asked Rachel. 
 
 " They did not know master was going away ; 
 but I can tell ihem to come another time." 
 
 Rachel was in a dilemma. The task of checking 
 the flax and paying for it, as well as the weighing 
 out of more raw material, would take at least half 
 an hour ; and if she attended to it, she would have 
 to leave her baby to look after itself all that time, 
 for it was madness to think of carrying it out with 
 her into the draughty flax-barn right across the 
 further end of the yard. On the other hand, if she 
 sent the spinners away, the poor old women would 
 have to make the toilsome journey twice over, and 
 in addition wait two whole days for the sorry 
 pittance which no doubt was urgently needed. 
 And then again she would please Gregor by show- 
 ing him how well she administered his afl'airs, and 
 what a trusty deputy he left on the estate during 
 his absence. 
 
 This last decided her. " Tell them to wait — I am 
 coming," she answered Bastian. 
 
 The baby had at last yielded to the temptations of 
 the lullaby, and, from past experience, was good for 
 at least a two hours' sleep. Rachel tucked it snugly 
 into the wicker-cot, without noticing that a shoe 
 had slipped from one of the tiny feet and had fallen 
 some little way from the cradle. And then after a 
 long look at the child she went out. 
 
 After an interval of two minutes Marfa came in, 
 her face white and her teeth set. For a moment 
 she listened anxiously ; then she stepped quickly 
 to the hearth, snatched from it a flaring brand and 
 
284 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 placed it close to the baby's cot. She paused at 
 the door till she had seen the tentacles of flame 
 grip the flimsy wickerwork so that they would no 
 longer relax their hold, and then she hurried away. 
 This time the sharp sword had not fallen on 
 empty space. 
 
 Rachel finished her work in less time than she 
 had anticipated. As she got back into the corridor, 
 a presentiment of evil came floating towards her 
 on wings of noisome air. But when she got into 
 the room, it took her some little time to understand 
 the meaning of the black, charred horror that stared 
 at her from among sickening fumes. And when 
 at last she comprehended, she went to pick up the 
 baby shoe which lay where it had dropped, and 
 quietly placed it in her bosom. 
 
 Gregor came home late the following afternoon 
 and found Rachel watching by the little coffin. 
 
 " They have put it in there — that is all I know," 
 was her only answer to all his enquiries. 
 
 Then he went to Marfa ; he came upon her 
 stealthily, with his eyes in ambush to note her first 
 look as she caught sight of him. Her features 
 were bronze. 
 
 *' How it occurred ? " she echoed, her voice match- 
 ing her mien ; " had I been there, it would not 
 have occurred at all ; and since 1 was not, why do 
 you ask me } " 
 
 " Perhaps a spark jumped from the fire and 
 lighted on the cradle," suggested Gregor, watching 
 her as before. 
 
 " Perhaps," she replied. 
 
 " She must have left the room when it happened." 
 
 " I do not keep count of her comings and goings." 
 
 " But did you hear nothing — see nothing?" 
 
 " Nothing beyond what everyone else heard and 
 saw ; but perhaps Bastian did." 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 285 
 
 " Bastian ? " 
 
 " So he says ; but I should not have any ears 
 left if I listened to the maunderings of every old 
 fool." 
 
 Gregor stepped out and presently returned, 
 dragging Bastian after him. 
 
 " Now tell me what you told my mother," he 
 said. 
 
 " I have nothing to tell, master," whined Bastian, 
 " indeed, nothing." 
 
 '* Speak before I squeeze it from your throat." 
 
 " Master, I cannot — it is too terrible." 
 
 " Then it will amuse me ; I like hearing of 
 terrible things. Now take a long breath and begin." 
 
 Bastian looked questioningly at Marfa; but Marfa 
 shrugged her shoulders and turned away. 
 
 "Well then, it was yesterday afternoon," said 
 Bastian with apparent recklessness ; " the spinners 
 had come up from the village with their work and 
 I went to tell the mistress, and she answered she 
 would be with them presently. I had just got to the 
 end of the passage, when I thought of another 
 message I had for her ; so I went back, and as I 
 
 opened the door " 
 
 Bastian paused and put his hand to his eyes. 
 
 •' Never mind the pantomime," said Gregor ; " take 
 a longer breath." 
 
 " As I opened the door, there stood the mistress, 
 with her back to me, waving her arms and droning 
 a strange weird tune, while the cradle crackled — 
 and then I ran from the horror of it. But I know 
 it will pursue me till I die, and after." 
 
 Gregor came close to him ; in his hand he held 
 the silver crucifix he had detached from the wall. 
 " Kneel and swear," he said. 
 That was a thing Bastian had not bargained for. 
 He was to jeopardise his salvation, but then the 
 
286 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 danger of instant death excused much. Moreover, 
 the fact that he was forswearing himself to the 
 destruction of an infidel might count for something ; 
 he also believed in the efficacy of wax tapers. 
 And so he swore. 
 
 But it was not so much Bastian's oath that im- 
 pressed Gregor with the possible truth of his story; 
 it was a vague misgiving of his own that struggled 
 up from his consciousness quite suddenly, as though 
 the seed of it had there lain dormant, and had only 
 been waiting for the quickening impulse, no matter 
 whence it came. It struck him with the force of a 
 revelation : what if his love had really made him 
 blind ? What if she was not all he saw in her, all 
 she pretended to be ? His memory caught at the 
 words she had uttered but yesterday : that she felt 
 otherwise than she acted. True she had said it in 
 a jest, but might it not as well be the perverse 
 defiance of deceit which flaunts itself recklessly 
 before the eyes it has hoodwinked ? And that 
 roused in him the quick sensitiveness, the instinct 
 of alarm, the unreasoning fear which are bred by a 
 life of loneliness — and what loneliness is there like 
 that of the steppe ? And then, having found his 
 trail, he tracked it relentlessly. He walked back 
 by himself all the length of way he had tra- 
 velled in her company, and beneath his footsteps 
 sprang up the weeds of distrust, coiled themselves 
 round his feet and made him stumble. And at 
 last he stood again before the terrible mystery 
 which he had made his starting-point. What was 
 he to do ; how was he to reach the truth ? Tax 
 her openly with Bastian's story ? Well, she would 
 disclaim, remonstrate, disarm his suspicion by her 
 passionate denials. There was nothing to be 
 gained by that ; it would only put her on her 
 guard. No, he must wait and watch ; he must lull 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 287 
 
 her into security, and then, in some unguarded 
 moment, she would betray herself. 
 
 So he waited and watched ; and after not many 
 days there reached him the first intimation that 
 his watchfulness would not remain without issue. 
 A change was coming over Rachel. In the days 
 immediately succeeding the child's death, she had 
 sought his company, had nestled against him for 
 comfort, as she made it appear, although preserving 
 a persistent silence as to the occurrence. But before 
 long her mood veered round. She availed herself 
 less and less often of his presence, even letting slip 
 the most obvious occasions, and when she could 
 not possibly avoid him, she submitted to the 
 necessity with ill-disguised constraint. And so the 
 time came when he felt her shrink from his 
 embrace, and her lips puckered beneath the 
 pressure of his own, as at the touch of white-hot 
 iron. Gregor followed the gradations, followed 
 them with a cruel joy that made his heart leap in 
 throbs of agony. Now only he came to know how 
 much he loved her — by the lust of hatred which her 
 recoil aroused in him. He revelled to see that look 
 of fearful apprehension in her eyes ; and therefore he 
 redoubled his kisses, because he knew the only way 
 to kill his love was to kiss it dead. 
 
 But it was not Rachel's fault that she shrank 
 from her husband ; it was due to the visitor that 
 called on her night after night. No sooner had 
 she closed her eyes in sleep, when she saw her baby 
 close by her pillow. She not only saw, she also 
 heard it. It was saying — quite distinctly : 
 " Mother, my little shoe, my little shoe." 
 And so it would go on importuning, till Rachel 
 awoke to stare in frozen horror into the pitiless 
 gloom, that was but as the mirror wherein she 
 might see the reflection of her ineffable terror. 
 
288 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 And out of the darkness she carried it with her into 
 tlie dayh'ght ; it hovered before her eyes amid the 
 sun-motes ; it rang in her ears above the spring- 
 benedictions of the birds — that thin piping voice 
 begging for its little shoe. And she could tell 
 nobody of it — least of all her husband. She had 
 not forgotten his hard words when she had narrated 
 him her dream about Kalash, and the tale of this 
 strange apparition would certainly find small grace 
 with him. Even if he were not angry with her 
 over it, he might see in it no evidence of her love, 
 in that she did not spare him the knowledge of her 
 tribulation. 
 
 And therefore she cooped it up within herself, 
 hoping that it was but an hallucination of the 
 moment, the creation of her overwrought brain, 
 which could be crushed out of existence by mere 
 force of will. So she fought against it with frenzied 
 strength, till she felt bruised and broken, as though 
 she had been butting her soul against a wall of 
 stone. And when that availed nothing, she sat 
 herself down, in the resoluteness of her despair, to 
 think out calmly, quietly, the meaning of the 
 prodigy, and to trace the voice it had taken to 
 itself back to the cause that gave it speech ; else 
 she could never hope to silence it. " My little 
 shoe — my little shoe ! " Oh, to catch the inner drift 
 of it! 
 
 And one day, when her desire for light had 
 driven her to the pitch when conjecture turns into 
 prophecy, it all came to her in a flash of inspira- 
 tion. She recollected dimly a tradition current 
 among her people, the tradition which had taken 
 rank as a sacred ordinance, that in the case of 
 persons killed by fire, everything that appertained 
 to the charred remains must likewise be consigned 
 to the grave. And though the baby-shoe had by 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 289 
 
 accident escaped destruction, its rightful place was 
 with its dead owner. Yet all the time Rachel had 
 carried it in her bosom, the memento of the short- 
 lived mother-joy she had tasted. And now her child 
 had come to claim its own back, and to rebuke her 
 for her selfishness. But Rachel did not stop there. 
 She felt this was not the only import of the 
 message from the dim Beyond. It was not 
 intended to remind her only of this one observance 
 she had transgressed, but of the entire code of laws 
 and precepts she had broken through, of her people 
 from whom she had severed herself, of the jealous 
 God she had forsaken when she knelt to the idols 
 made of human hands, however much it had been 
 only in appearance. So her retribution had found her 
 after all ; she had thought her happiness was a barri- 
 cade which her conscience could never scale. And now 
 it was wreaking its vengeance on her more fiercely 
 for having been kept so long at bay. It upbraided 
 her with having preferred a chance refuge to the 
 sheltering wings of her nation's Providence; it cried 
 shame on her faint-heartedness that had set at 
 naught the example of centuries. And finally — ah, 
 there its sting was sharpest, — it asked her : 
 
 " What answer will you make to your mother ? " 
 Rachel did not know, but she began to think — 
 at once, for she did not know how many years it 
 might take her to fashion a reply to that query. 
 
 That was how she came to shrink from her 
 husband. . He was the embodiment of her sin. As 
 he had been her temptation, so he now was her 
 reproach. But if she trembled at his embraces, if 
 his endearments made her shudder, it was only 
 with fear, with a terrifying sense of the forbidden. 
 He was still the same to her — her all in all ; but 
 because she had bartered everything she had 
 possessed in exchange for him, she must, for that 
 
290 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE. 
 
 very reason, look on him as unlawful property. 
 And the pain of that thought stung her into 
 rebellion. No, she did not want to be told of her 
 offence ; she would not have her conscience make 
 havoc of her peace of heart ; she wanted to be 
 happy, happy as she had been before ; happy 
 though the world, aye, and the next world, too, 
 perished over it. It was the little shoe that had 
 begun the mischief; w^ell, she would bury this little 
 shoe, and with it the spectre that was haunting 
 her ; bury it so deep that it could not possibly have 
 a resurrection. 
 
 And so it came that a little while after Marfa 
 had a curious story to tell her son when he returned 
 home after a full day's absence. 
 
 " I heard her creep out in the dead of night," she 
 told him, "and then I called Bastian, and together 
 we followed her. First she went to the tool-house 
 and tried to enter, but it was locked. After that 
 she crossed over to the timber-shed, and from there 
 she took a long, flat log, and passed out by the 
 gate. Cautiously we tracked her, all the way to 
 the cemetery. And when she had come to the 
 child's grave she commenced burrowing busily, 
 but because of the clumsy implement she could not 
 get very far, and at last she flung herself down and 
 tore ravenously at the soil with her hands. Did I 
 not tell you she was an evil spirit ? And now she 
 wants to dig up what is left of the little angel she 
 has killed and use it for her rites and incantations 
 to bring destruction on us all. Last week one of 
 the bulls gored his own heifer — is that not a sign ? 
 And at Michaelmas tide — although I would not tell 
 you of it — the witches flew in and out of the house 
 despite the three red crosses I had marked on the 
 outer door." 
 
 Gregor heard her in silence, with a peculiar smile 
 
THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIEiVCE. 291 
 
 about his lips, and finally he went to his wife and 
 looked at her fingers. They were scratched and 
 torn in many places. And when he saw Marfa 
 again he said to her : 
 
 " Watch and tell me what happens the next time 
 I am away." 
 
 And, surely enough, a week after, Marfa had the 
 same story for him — the locked tool-house, the 
 walk to the cemetery, the blunt log, the burrowing, 
 the foiled attempt. This time Gregor did not 
 answer even with a smile, but for two days after he 
 went about without eating or drinking, his brows 
 wrinkled in thought. Towards the evening of the 
 third, he had the horses harnessed, and made his 
 arrangements as usual when he intended a pro- 
 longed absence. When he said good-bye to Rachel, 
 she did not seem disconsolate at his departure, but 
 her hands trembled and there was a feverish look 
 in her eyes. 
 
 Just before starting Gregor whispered to Marfa : 
 
 " Tell Bastian to leave the tool-house open, and 
 to place the strongest spade close to the entrance." 
 
 Then he drove off, but only as far as the village, 
 and stabling his horses in the disused smithy, he 
 made his way back to the cemetery, and took up 
 his post behind one of the acacia trees that fringed 
 the inside of the wall. 
 
 So he stood, motionless, patiently peering into 
 the darkness, through which the wan moonlight 
 trickled sparingly. Now he would see for himself 
 whatever there was to see. And when he had 
 seen 
 
 It was past midnight ; Gregor felt himself taking 
 root in the soil, when his ear caught the sound of 
 hurrying footsteps. He would have recognised 
 those footsteps amid the tramp of an army ; he 
 knew also by the ring of iron against the hard 
 
292 THE AMBUSH OF CONSCIENCE, 
 
 gravel that Marfa had given Bastian his message 
 And then his eyes became glowing coals that set 
 the gloom on fire wherever they struck it. Yes, 
 there she was ; she was standing by the grave, and 
 now her spade was flinging up the sod in frantic 
 haste. For a moment or two he watched her ; then 
 a few noiseless strides brought him to her side. 
 She did not hear him, and her spade plied on. 
 
 " Vampire," he said softly, taking the implement 
 out of her hands. 
 
 With a stifled cry she fell forward, and huddled 
 her head in her arms. Slowly, deliberately he 
 lifted the spade high in the air, the blade turned 
 sideways, and for an instant stood measuring his 
 aim. Then with a sudden thought he flung it from 
 him. Tenderly his left arm stole round her neck, 
 his lips burned passionately on hers, while his free 
 hand fumbled for the dirk in his belt. 
 
 " No, you shall die a cleaner death — for the sake 
 of the happy hours you have given me," he whis- 
 pered, as the steel ate its way into her heart. 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Next morning Marfa and Bastian were busy 
 spreading the news that the young mistress had 
 gone sleep-walking to the grave-yard, and there 
 had become the victim of some miscreant's foul 
 play. And then Bastian went and told his daughter 
 to put on her prettiest dress and make herself con- 
 spicuous in the eyes of the master. 
 
 But Rachel never had a successor, there was no 
 time for that. Three days after her funeral, Marfa 
 came upon her son lying stiff and stark in his room, 
 the poison-phial at his side. On the table she 
 found his testament : 
 
 " I can find no rest ; and so I have followed her 
 into the land where there is no falsehood, to learn 
 from her the truth." 
 
The lieadet^. 
 
 GEROLD GAVRILOF'S bachelor quarters 
 were comfortable enough at all times ; they 
 looked especially so this drab autumn afternoon 
 already fringed with the twilight. For the last 
 half-hour their proprietor and his visitor had been 
 occupying two of the comfortable soporific arm- 
 chairs, which, perhaps, was the reason why the 
 conversation had refused to come into proper swing. 
 And yet Saul Mogilev was good company as a rule ; 
 he had to be, or else he would not have been on 
 visiting terms with Ceroid Gavrilof. For Ceroid 
 did not hold himself cheap ; he was blessed with 
 plenty of the world's goods, as his surroundings 
 testified, and could afford to be, and insisted on 
 being eclectic in the matter of his acquaintances. 
 
 " You seem to have left your tongue at home, 
 Saul," he said, wearying of the slow drag of their 
 word interchange. 
 
 " I am sorry," was the answer. " I know I must 
 appear dull to you ; I would not have come at all 
 to-day had you not pressed me." 
 
 " What is it ? Another discovery that is going 
 to electrify the world? For mercy's sake leave off 
 telling us humiliating facts about this poor human 
 mechanism of ours. You do your best to show us 
 
294 THE LEADER. 
 
 what worras we are, and we, in return, call you a 
 great man. The exchange is hardly fair." 
 
 Saul smiled. " You are safe against that, at 
 least, for the next two days," he replied. " I am 
 taking a rest." 
 
 " Is that so? Then you are in my hands. You 
 won't feel dull much longer. We dine together 
 this evening, and then the theatre — there's that 
 new French play everybody is talking about " 
 
 He stopped as he saw Saul shaking his head. 
 
 " Not the theatre ? " he went on. "Well then, the 
 soiree at Von Kuno's, the Censor ; he is anxious to 
 make your acquaintance." 
 
 " Thank you. Ceroid," said Saul, " but don't take 
 offence ; I want my holiday all to myself" 
 
 " I see, you are going into the country." 
 
 " No, I am stopping in town." 
 
 Ceroid sat up. " What's the mystery ? Out 
 with it." 
 
 " I did not intend making a mystery of it," said 
 Saul quietly ; " to-morrow — this evening rather, 
 our New Year begins." 
 
 Ceroid looked blank ; then he laughed. " An 
 •eccentricity of the Calendar, certainly, but that still 
 does not explain anything." 
 
 " I have always observed these days as a time 
 for self-searching and introspection," continued 
 Saul slowly, as though to drive home to his friend 
 every syllable ; " had you not told me you were 
 born in my faith 1 should not have left so much to 
 implication." 
 
 " I remember now," said Ceroid ; " this is the 
 time when Heaven is turned into a counting-house 
 and all the angels into book-keepers, and there is 
 much traffic in transgressions and forgiveness." 
 
 Saul ignored his friend's levity. " These days 
 mean much to me," he said pensively ; " they call 
 
THE LEADER. v 295 
 
 to me from the turmoil of the world, and sanctify 
 my petty strivings, my ignoble ambitions ; they 
 remind me that, after all, there is a greater purpose 
 and a wider issue for which I must work. They 
 are the incentive that spurs me on when I flag and 
 have time to take stock and measure of the vanity 
 of it all. And, further, there is their human aspect : 
 they are the links — the only links, perhaps — that 
 tie me to my race and make me part and parcel of 
 its destiny." 
 
 " Links, you say ? " asked Ceroid, taking his 
 tone from the other. " Call them fetters, and instead 
 of destiny say doom. For a matter of tawdry 
 sentiment, which is all it comes to, you are content 
 to cramp your talents into the narrowest scope, to 
 hamper yourself with obstacles voluntary and of 
 your own making. I tell you, you are acting 
 criminally ; you, who are called to higher things, 
 to work for the weal of mankind — you have no 
 right to be of a section. The world claims you — 
 that is the call you should follow." 
 
 " And you } " asked Saul, looking smilingly at 
 his friend. 
 
 " I .!* I am a nonentity — the ordinary rank-and 
 file specimen ; it does not matter a straw to whom 
 I belong. The little I could do would work no 
 good and no ill. That is why I have not broken 
 away entirely from my race. I have only made my 
 concessions : Cershon Cabrielovitch became Ceroid 
 Cavrilof. I have, moreover, refrained from 
 flaunting my origin in people's faces. The old 
 trunk still owns me as one of its shoots ; I wish it 
 joy on the possession. But you, you have wrestled 
 with the giantess Nature, you have wrested her 
 secrets from her, and now you go on repeating to 
 yourself old women's tales. 1 have no patience 
 with you." 
 
296 THE LEADER. 
 
 " At least one of those old women was a heroine," 
 said Saul, with a twitching of his lip and a moisture 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " From that it does not follow that she was the 
 mother of a hero," replied Ceroid soberly. " You 
 are not a hero to me, Saul ; you shrink from tearing 
 the mask from falsehoods, because they happen to 
 be time-honoured, and because you don't want to 
 know what the truth is like. And your reason for 
 that is a knock-kneed sentimentalism that prevents 
 you from walking through life firm and upright, 
 your head the height of the world's head. Or, at 
 the best, you may dub yourself martyr, and between 
 him and the fool there is frequently only the 
 difference of a stiff neck." 
 
 " Coward or fool ? " said Saul, his eyes gleaming 
 brightly, perhaps with the after-sheen of the 
 vanished tear. " At least you give me the benefit 
 of the doubt, which only puts you to the trouble 
 of listening to my defence on both counts. Well, 
 let the coward have the first turn. A band of 
 harassed, hunted weaklings are encamped in the 
 wilderness. At night-time they sit shivering in 
 fearful wonder when the unseen hand will strike 
 next out of the darkness ; and yet they dread the 
 daylight, for that only makes them more surely the 
 target of their enemies. Few among them have 
 weapons ; and these, whom they look upon as 
 their protection and rampart — these are assailed by 
 the honeyed blandishments of the foe, deadlier than 
 his deadliest darts. ' Come to us,' he says, ' ^w^ 
 up the thankless task of battling for a lost cause. 
 Ours is the victory ; come quickly, or you will 
 perish with their peril.' One of the champions 
 goes, the other stops at his appointed post. Say, 
 Ceroid, who is the coward, the steadfast or the 
 renegade ? " 
 
THE LEADER. 297 
 
 Gerold was silent, but his brows contracted with 
 displeasure. 
 
 " Now for the fool," went on Saul, dispassionately. 
 " You will see, Gerold, that I am not as improvident 
 as you think me. 1 know how to recoup myself 
 for my self-sacrifice. Shall I admit it ? There is 
 much selfishness in my folly. By holding to my 
 people I also partake of their heritage. I can claim 
 my share in the glory of their mission — " 
 
 " Mission ? " broke in Gerold with a sneer ; " it 
 spells omission nowadays ; they have no time, no 
 bent for anything save their worldly interests, their 
 heaping of gold." 
 
 " Yes, that is the taunt of our enemies," replied 
 Saul calmly ; " and to some of us — I am not 
 reproaching you, Gerold — it means the excuse for 
 secession. And yet nothing can prove our ultimate 
 purpose more manifestly. To the lowliest of 
 God*s creatures has been given some shield, some 
 armour against its adversaries. What if we were 
 a people of beggars — would we have survived ? If 
 Israel is heaping gold, it is piling it into the 
 bulwarks, behind which it is biding its time, till 
 the hearts of men shall beat more lovingly together, 
 till the vultures of strife and hatred shall have 
 ravaged their talons into bluntness, and then, at 
 God's beck, we shall sally forth, and our lips shall 
 utter loudly and fearlessly the burden of our 
 apostle.*;hip." 
 
 " And meantime," asked Gerold, with a shoulder- 
 shrug, " you are staking your hope of reward on the 
 future which you will not live to see } " 
 
 " Meantime I have my belief in the special provi- 
 dence that is our guardian, and that means belief 
 in self and confidence of achievement. Faith is a 
 tonic which you can buy of no apothecary." 
 
 " It is a little out of fashion, though ; and no 
 
298 THE LEADER, 
 
 wonder, considerinf^ it was patented some thousands 
 of years ago," said Ceroid lightly; " its virtues lie 
 chiefly in the imagination ; the only reality about 
 it is its defects. There is no faith ; there is only 
 cant, and narrowness and bigotry." 
 
 " I can but speak for myself," said Saul. 
 
 " Not even for yourself," returned Ceroid, hotly ; 
 " you are mistaken in your own mind. Look with 
 your eyes, use your judgment, your better judgment 
 I call it. Live for yourself, not for a shadow, a 
 delusion. Do it, if not for your own sake, at least 
 for mine." 
 
 Saul looked at him astonished. " I don't under- 
 stand," he said, at length. 
 
 Ceroid hesitated a full minute ; then the answer 
 wrenched itself from his lips : 
 
 " Because, if you do not, there is no friendship 
 possible between us." 
 
 "You jest," said Saul, starting up. 
 
 " Unhappily, I do not," replied Ceroid, his eyes 
 seeking the ground ; " 1 cannot tell you why, but I 
 cannot feel at home with men whose opinions are 
 not in concert with mine. I cannot bear the 
 thought that while our hands clasp each other in 
 brotherhood there is between our hearts an abyss 
 wherein, suddenly and without warning, our 
 friendship might one day become engulfed. It is 
 best we should sunder our ways betimes ; we shall 
 save ourselves much heart-ache in the end." 
 
 Saul got up and strode over to him. " I guessed 
 something of this," he said, with a tremor in his 
 voice, ' and, therefore, I have kept my lips closed 
 on this all these months we have known each 
 other; but for my unfortunate reference it might 
 never — " 
 
 " Impossible," said Ceroid ; " it would have come 
 our way later on, when our hearts had become still 
 
THE LEADER. 299 
 
 more closely knitted, and the agony would have 
 been greater. BeHeve me, it is better so." 
 
 " Look, Ceroid," said Saul, after a pause, his 
 hand on the other's shoulder ; " you said that faith 
 was narrowness, and now you let your own action 
 belie your words. I, that am narrow, can bear 
 with you as you are. I make no attempt to bring 
 you into line with me. But you, who make a 
 principle of your want of bias, your breadth of 
 view, have no room to house these puny self-delu- 
 sions of mine ; what am I to think ? " 
 
 " Think what you like — that I am a whimsical 
 fool, whose humours play fast and loose with him. 
 Saul, I am willing to accept the humiliation : treat 
 me as a child, and give way to me. Show how 
 great you are ; show yourself the hero : follow 
 me ! " 
 
 "Gain a friend and lose Heaven t " replied Saul, 
 half-aloud. " No, Gerold, you ask too much. Let 
 it be as you say : our ways shall lie apart. One 
 day my good fortune may make them to cross each 
 other again. Till then, good-bye." 
 
 Softly he walked to the door, and stopped for a 
 moment with his hand on the latch, as though he 
 half expected to be called back. But Gerold sat 
 on, his head low down on his chest, immovable, as 
 if he had suddenly lost all power of motion. Long 
 after Saul's departure he fancied he could still hear 
 his footsteps descend the staircase, slowly and 
 reverently, as though he were walking away from 
 a grave. For a moment an irresistible desire had 
 seized on Gerold to hurry after his friend, to drag 
 him back and ask his forgiveness. But his resolve 
 had held him back, his resolve that had been slowly 
 shaping itself all through their colloquy, and the 
 motive of which he must keep secret from Saul. 
 Could he tell him of the vague, nameless jealousy 
 
300 THE LEADER, 
 
 that was beginning to tinge their intercourse with 
 wormwood ? Their friendship was only six months 
 old, and it was as full-grown as though it had a 
 score of years to its credit. By mere accident 
 Ceroid had met the brilliant young physiologist, 
 who, despite his youth, had already made consider- 
 able stir in scientific circles. He had recognised 
 in him a nature to which guile and falsehood were 
 strange, and he revelled in his company, that came 
 to him like the pure breath of Heaven after the 
 foul atmosphere of mercenary associates and 
 grovelling sycophants in which he had moved all 
 his life. That was all the benefit which had 
 accrued to him from his wealth, from the miles and 
 miles of forest, from the countless acres of pasture 
 and plough-land his father had left him. Ever 
 since his tenth year he had been in the hands of 
 strangers, who allowed him to drift as he pleased, 
 till he had drifted away from everybody, and his 
 solitude hedged him in as with a wall of ice, which 
 no one had completely succeeded in crossing. 
 But when he looked into Saul's face for the first 
 time he had felt his heart become alive and 
 warm, and with its warmth the ring of ice melted, 
 and through the breach Saul had stepped into 
 his life. 
 
 And now his fate, that had destined him to an 
 existence lonely and self-contained, seemed track- 
 ing him further. He had admired his friend, he 
 had triumphed in his triumphs ; not a shadow of 
 envy lurked in his heart because the other had been 
 chosen for a higher sphere than he himself could 
 ever hope to attain — not till this unhappy hour. 
 Was Saul not sufficiently dowered already with the 
 gifts which mere wealth could not buy } Was his 
 life not full and complete enough with the joy of 
 endeavour, with the certainty of attainment t And 
 
THE LEADER. 301 
 
 now came the revelation of Saul's inner life, of 
 that soul-sustaining, heart-gladdening activity 
 which he kept for his own use and benefit, and of 
 which he gave no toll to the world. For that, at 
 least, one had no need to be a genius, and yet 
 Ceroid felt that it had likewise been placed beyond 
 his reach. And so that jealous rage had come over 
 him, which had to be vented — as though it were 
 the madness of revenge — on that unseen Power 
 which had treated him with such cruel injustice ; 
 and he had gratified it in suicidal perverseness, for 
 he could only strike the enemy through his own 
 heart. He thought he saw now why the world was 
 so dead and empty for him ; he had not been 
 given the sense of touch wherewith to feel the 
 vivifying essence which must animate it ; his ear 
 was deaf to the great pulse that vibrated and 
 spread order and harmony through the chaotic 
 void. 
 
 Sick at heart and dizzy of brain, he stumbled 
 through the darkness into the open. He made an 
 attempt at a meal in the cafe ; it was an igno- 
 minious failure. He sauntered about till the 
 theatres opened, and sought to find distraction in 
 the new play which he had anticipated with much 
 eagerness. Two acts were enough for him, al- 
 though the house was enthusiastic ; he could not 
 follow the thread of the action ; the figures on the 
 stage were mere silhouettes ; they talked gibberish. 
 On his way he passed Von Kuno's house, bril- 
 liantly lighted up and lined with an interminable 
 length of equipages. He was glad he was not in 
 evening dress, and so could save himself the 
 trouble of even deliberating whether he should 
 join the gay throng. When he reached home he 
 found waiting for him a perfumed note from 
 Madame Councillor Rothman, wherein she desired 
 
302 THE LEADER. 
 
 the favour of his company at tea that evening— 
 quite en faniille — only she and her daughter would 
 be present. With a grimace of disgust he tore the 
 missive into shreds. How tired he felt of it all — 
 the artificiality, the hollowness, the shallowness, 
 the surface-smiles. His heart had been beginning 
 to beat true, and in tune with itself, because deft 
 fingers had been playing upon it, and now it would 
 be thrown back into the old jar and jangle and 
 discord. If only he could sleep — a natural sleep, 
 not this numbed narcotic languishing which lay 
 like lead in all his limbs. And as he tossed rest- 
 lessly through the long and ever-lengthening nighl, 
 'a suggestion entered his head, as yet dim and un- 
 defined, because it seemed so strange and purpose- 
 less ; for he could hardly trust himself that it 
 would survive its conception. And yet it grew 
 steadily, developing in fulness and strength, and 
 by the morning it had taken to itself shape and 
 substance. 
 
 About ten o'clock he sallied out towards the 
 synagogue where he knew Saul worshipped. He 
 had accompanied him there once before, only as 
 far as the entrance of course, when Saul was com- 
 memorating the anniversary of his mother's death. 
 On the pretence of being a newspaper reporter, 
 Gerold gained admission. Near the door he 
 stopped and surveyed the scene. He had never 
 witnessed the like before. Never before had he 
 seen that look of joyous resignation, of submissive 
 hopefulness, on human countenances. It came 
 home to him, in a flash of comprehension, that if he 
 had had more often occasion and opportunity to 
 see his discarded brethren thus lifting themselves 
 above their ordinary, everyday selves, he would 
 have been more slow to set them down for a brood 
 of crawling groundlings, of dust-eating self-seekers. 
 
THE LEADER. 303 
 
 Were they merely that, they would not bear on 
 their faces this pride of race, the memory of their 
 traditions, the impress of quiet grandeur stamped 
 upon them by pain-quivering centuries. They 
 knew and felt who they were ; but they guarded 
 their self-knowledge zealously, for to divulge it 
 would be sacrilege. 
 
 So the service went on, solemn and more solemn 
 still, until Ceroid felt a shiver tingle through him 
 from crown to foot. Loud and long and resonant 
 rang out the blast of the ram's horn. Ceroid had 
 not heard it since his childhood, but he remembered 
 how his frightened hand had sought his father's, to 
 assure himself of some protecting presence in the 
 midst of this strange alarm. And again, despite 
 the long interval, the same feeling took hold of 
 him, the urgent craving for kith and kindred, 
 the desire to be part of a whole, to merge himself 
 indissolubly, so that he might never again stand 
 alone. That was, no doubt, the call of which Saul 
 had spoken, the call to summon the stragglers 
 back to the fold, to remind all Israel that its salva- 
 tion lay in its unity. And now that he listened to 
 it, it seemed to him so easy to answer its bidding ; 
 it drew him gently, lovingly, for it had touched a 
 long-slumbering echo in his heart, and had stirred 
 it mightily into life. Why had he come to the 
 synagogue ? What had been his purpose } He 
 had hardly known : but dimly, divinely he had 
 fathomed that one need only set out on his quest 
 for light, and sooner or later Cod would hold out 
 to him His beacon. 
 
 Curiously the adjoining worshippers glanced at 
 his rigid figure, as he stood there like one petrified 
 — his eyes raised aloft, his lips set as in a vice. So 
 he remained, till a sudden commotion told him the 
 service was over. He was among the first to leave ; 
 
304 TUE LEADER. 
 
 outside in the courtyard he turned and waited : 
 he was waiting for Saul ; he had something to 
 tell him. And presently he saw the tall, stoop- 
 shouldered form of his friend issuing. Quickly 
 he went up to him, seized him by the hand, and 
 whispered : 
 
 " Saul, if you cannot follow, will you lead ?" 
 
 The End. 
 
 WF.RTHEIMER. LEA & CO.. PHINTER8, LONDON. 
 
rai830d 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA UBRARY 
 

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