diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35076-8.txt | 13379 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35076-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 257915 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35076-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 272501 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35076-h/35076-h.htm | 13751 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35076.txt | 13379 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 35076.zip | bin | 0 -> 257781 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
9 files changed, 40525 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/35076-8.txt b/35076-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89df960 --- /dev/null +++ b/35076-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13379 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ghetto Tragedies, by Israel Zangwill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ghetto Tragedies + +Author: Israel Zangwill + +Release Date: January 26, 2011 [EBook #35076] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GHETTO TRAGEDIES *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + * * * * * + + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + | Transcriber's Note: | + | | + | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has | + | been preserved. | + | | + | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For | + | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | + | | + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + + * * * * * + + + + +GHETTO TRAGEDIES + + + + +The MM Co. + + + + +Ghetto Tragedies + +BY + +I. ZANGWILL + +AUTHOR OF "CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO," +"THE KING OF SCHNORRERS," ETC. + + + + +PHILADELPHIA +THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1899, +BY I. ZANGWILL + + +Norwood Press +J.S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith +Norwood Mass. U.S.A. + + + + +PREFACE + + +The "Ghetto Tragedies" collected in a little volume in 1893 have been +so submerged in the present collection that I have relegated the +original name to the sub-title. "Satan Mekatrig" was written in 1889, +"Bethulah" this year. Anyone who should wish to measure the progress +or decay of my imagination during the ten years has therefore +materials to hand. "Noah's Ark" stands on the firmer Ararat of +history, my invention being confined to the figure of Peloni (the +Hebrew for "nobody"). The other stories have also a basis in life. But +neither in pathos nor heroic stimulation can they vie with the literal +tragedy with which the whole book is in a sense involved. Mrs. N.S. +Joseph, the great-hearted lady to whom "Ghetto Tragedies" was +inscribed, herself walked in darkness, yet was not dismayed: in the +prime of life she went down into the valley of the shadow, with no +word save of consideration for others. I trust the new stories would +not have been disapproved by my friend, to whose memory they must now, +alas! be dedicated. + + I.Z. + + OCTOBER, 1899. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I + PAGE +"THEY THAT WALK IN DARKNESS" 1 + +II + +TRANSITIONAL 41 + +III + +NOAH'S ARK 79 + +IV + +THE LAND OF PROMISE 127 + +V + +TO DIE IN JERUSALEM 159 + +VI + +BETHULAH 185 + +VII + +THE KEEPER OF CONSCIENCE 249 + +VIII + +SATAN MEKATRIG 345 + +IX + +DIARY OF A MESHUMAD 403 + +X + +INCURABLE 457 + +XI + +THE SABBATH-BREAKER 479 + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +"THEY THAT WALK IN DARKNESS" + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +"THEY THAT WALK IN DARKNESS" + + +I + +It was not till she had fasted every Monday and Thursday for a +twelvemonth, that Zillah's long yearning for a child was gratified. +She gave birth--O more than fair-dealing God!--to a boy. + +Jossel, who had years ago abandoned the hope of an heir to pray for +his soul, was as delighted as he was astonished. His wife had kept him +in ignorance of the fasts by which she was appealing to Heaven; and +when of a Monday or Thursday evening on his return from his boot +factory in Bethnal Green, he had sat down to his dinner in Dalston, no +suspicion had crossed his mind that it was Zillah's breakfast. He +himself was a prosaic person, incapable of imagining such +spontaneities of religion, though he kept every fast which it behoves +an orthodox Jew to endure who makes no speciality of sainthood. There +was a touch of the fantastic in Zillah's character which he had only +appreciated in its manifestation as girlish liveliness, and which +Zillah knew would find no response from him in its religious +expression. + +Not that her spiritual innovations were original inventions. From some +pious old crone, after whom (as she could read Hebrew) a cluster of +neighbouring dames repeated what they could catch of the New Year +prayers in the women's synagogue, Zillah had learnt that certain holy +men were accustomed to afflict their souls on Mondays and Thursdays. +From her unsuspecting husband himself she had further elicited that +these days were marked out from the ordinary, even for the man of the +world, by a special prayer dubbed "the long 'He being merciful.'" +Surely on Mondays and Thursdays, then, He would indeed be merciful. To +make sure of His good-will she continued to be unmerciful to herself +long after it became certain that her prayer had been granted. + + +II + +Both Zillah and Jossel lived in happy ignorance of most things, +especially of their ignorance. The manufacture of boots and all that +appertained thereto, the synagogue and religion, misunderstood +reminiscences of early days in Russia, the doings and misdoings of a +petty social circle, and such particular narrowness with general +muddle as is produced by stumbling through a Sabbath paper and a +Sunday paper: these were the main items in their intellectual +inventory. Separate Zillah from her husband and she became even +poorer, for she could not read at all. + +Yet they prospered. The pavements of the East End resounded with their +hob-nailed boots, and even in many a West End drawing-room their +patent-leather shoes creaked. But they themselves had no wish to stand +in such shoes; the dingy perspectives of Dalston villadom limited +their ambition, already sufficiently gratified by migration from +Whitechapel. The profits went to enlarge their factory and to buy +houses, a favourite form of investment in their set. Zillah could cook +fish to perfection, both fried and stewed, and the latter variety both +sweet and sour. Nothing, in fine, had been wanting to their +happiness--save a son, heir, and mourner. + +When he came at last, little that religion or superstition could do +for him was left undone. An amulet on the bedpost scared off Lilith, +Adam's first wife, who, perhaps because she missed being the mother of +the human race, hankers after babes and sucklings. The initiation into +the Abrahamic covenant was graced by a pious godfather with pendent +ear-locks, and in the ceremony of the Redemption of the First-Born the +five silver shekels to the priest were supplemented by golden +sovereigns for the poor. Nor, though Zillah spoke the passable English +of her circle, did she fail to rock her Brum's cradle to the old +"Yiddish" nursery-songs:-- + + "Sleep, my birdie, shut your eyes, + O sleep, my little one; + Too soon from cradle you'll arise + To work that must be done. + + "Almonds and raisins you shall sell, + And holy scrolls shall write; + So sleep, dear child, sleep sound and well, + Your future beckons bright. + + "Brum shall learn of ancient days, + And love good folk of this; + So sleep, dear babe, your mother prays, + And God will send you bliss." + +Alas, that with all this, Brum should have grown up a weakling, sickly +and anĉmic, with a look that in the child of poorer parents would have +said starvation. + + +III + +Yet through all the vicissitudes of his infantile career, Zillah's +faith in his survival never faltered. He was emphatically a child from +Heaven, and Providence would surely not fly in its own face. Jossel, +not being aware of this, had a burden of perpetual solicitude, which +Zillah often itched to lighten. Only, not having done so at first, she +found it more and more difficult to confess her negotiation with the +celestial powers. She went as near as she dared. + +"If the Highest One has sent us a son after so many years," she said +in the "Yiddish" which was still natural to her for intimate domestic +discussion, "He will not take him away again." + +"As well say," Jossel replied gloomily, "that because He has sent us +luck and blessing after all these years, He may not take away our +prosperity." + +"Hush! don't beshrew the child!" And Zillah spat out carefully. She +was tremulously afraid of words of ill-omen and of the Evil Eye, +against which, she felt vaguely, even Heaven's protection was not +potent. Secretly she became more and more convinced that some woman, +envious of all this "luck and blessing," was withering Brum with her +Evil Eye. And certainly the poor child was peaking and pining away. +"Marasmus," a physician had once murmured, wondering that so well +dressed a child should appear so ill nourished. "Take him to the +seaside often, and feed him well," was the universal cry of the +doctors; and so Zillah often deserted her husband for a _kosher_ +boarding-house at Brighton or Ramsgate, where the food was voluminous, +and where Brum wrote schoolboy verses to the strange, fascinating sea. + +For there were compensations in the premature flowering of his +intellect. Even other mothers gradually came round to admitting he was +a prodigy. The black eyes seemed to burn in the white face as they +looked out on the palpitating universe, or devoured every and any +scrap of print! A pity they had so soon to be dulled behind +spectacles. But Zillah found consolation in the thought that the +glasses would go well with the high black waistcoat and white tie of +the British Rabbi. He had been given to her by Heaven, and to Heaven +must be returned. Besides, that might divert it from any more sinister +methods of taking him back. + +In his twelfth year Brum began to have more trouble with his eyes, and +renewed his early acquaintance with the drab ante-rooms of eye +hospitals that led, at the long-expected ting-ting of the doctor's +bell, into a delectable chamber of quaint instruments. But it was not +till he was on the point of _Bar-Mitzvah_ (confirmation at thirteen) +that the blow fell. Unwarned explicitly by any physician, Brum went +blind. + +"Oh, mother," was his first anguished cry, "I shall never be able to +read again." + + +IV + +The prepared festivities added ironic complications to the horror. +After Brum should have read in the Law from the synagogue platform, +there was to have been a reception at the house. Brum himself had +written out the invitations with conscious grammar. "Present their +compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Solomon and shall be glad to see _them_" +(not _you_, as was the fashion of their set). It was after writing out +so many notes in a fine schoolboy hand, that Brum began to be +conscious of thickening blurs and dancing specks and colours. Now +that the blind boy was crouching in hopeless misery by the glowing +fire, where he had so often recklessly pored over books in the +delicious dusk, there was no one handy to write out the countermands. +As yet the wretched parents had kept the catastrophe secret, as though +it reflected on themselves. And by every post the Confirmation +presents came pouring in. + +Brum refused even to feel these shining objects. He had hoped to have +a majority of books, but now the preponderance of watches, rings, and +penknives, left him apathetic. To his parents each present brought a +fresh feeling of dishonesty. + +"We must let them know," they kept saying. But the tiny difficulty of +writing to so many prevented action. + +"Perhaps he'll be all right by Sabbath," Zillah persisted frenziedly. +She clung to the faith that this was but a cloud: for that the glory +of the Confirmation of a future Rabbi could be so dimmed would argue +an incomprehensible Providence. Brum's performance was to be so +splendid--he was to recite not only his own portion of the Law but the +entire Sabbath _Sedrah_ (section). + +"He will never be all right," said Jossel, who, in the utter breakdown +of Zillah, had for the first time made the round of the doctors with +Brum. "None of the physicians, not even the most expensive, hold out +any hope. And the dearest of all said the case puzzled him. It was +like the blindness that often breaks out in Russia after the great +fasts, and specially affects delicate children." + +"Yes, I remember," said Zillah; "but that was only among the +Christians." + +"We have so many Christian customs nowadays," said Jossel grimly; and +he thought of the pestilent heretic in his own synagogue who advocated +that ladies should be added to the choir. + +"Then what shall we do about the people?" moaned Zillah, wringing her +hands in temporary discouragement. + +"You can advertise in the Jewish papers," came suddenly from the +brooding Brum. He had a flash of pleasure in the thought of composing +something that would be published. + +"Yes, then everybody will read it on the Friday," said Jossel eagerly. + +Then Brum remembered that he would not be among the readers, and +despair reconquered him. But Zillah was shaking her head. + +"Yes, but if we tell people not to come, and then when Brum opens his +eyes on the Sabbath morning, he can see to read the _Sedrah_--" + +"But I don't want to see to read the _Sedrah_," said the boy +petulantly; "I know it all by heart." + +"My blessed boy!" cried Zillah. + +"There's nothing wonderful," said the boy; "even if you read the +scroll, there are no vowels nor musical signs." + +"But do you feel strong enough to do it all?" said the father +anxiously. + +"God will give him strength," put in the mother. "And he will make his +speech, too, won't you, my Brum?" + +The blind face kindled. Yes, he would give his learned address. He had +saved his father the expense of hiring one, and had departed in +original rhetorical ways from the conventional methods of expressing +filial gratitude to the parents who had brought him to manhood. And +was this eloquence to remain entombed in his own breast? + +His courageous resolution lightened the gloom. His parents opened +parcels they had not had the heart to touch. They brought him his new +suit, they placed the high hat of manhood on his head, and told him +how fine and tall he looked; they wrapped the new silk praying-shawl +round his shoulders. + +"Are the stripes blue or black?" he asked. + +"Blue--a beautiful blue," said Jossel, striving to steady his voice. + +"It feels very nice," said Brum, smoothing the silk wistfully. "Yes, I +can almost feel the blue." + +Later on, when his father, a little brightened, had gone off to the +exigent boot factory, Brum even asked to see the presents. The blind +retain these visual phrases. + +Zillah described them to him one by one as he handled them. When it +came to the books it dawned on her that she could not tell him the +titles. + +"They have such beautiful pictures," she gushed evasively. + +The boy burst into tears. + +"Yes, but I shall never be able to read them," he sobbed. + +"Yes, you will." + +"No, I won't." + +"Then I'll read them to you," she cried, with sudden resolution. + +"But you can't read." + +"I can learn." + +"But you will be so long. I ought to have taught you myself. And now +it is too late!" + + +V + +In order to insure perfection, and prevent stage fright, so to speak, +it had been arranged that Brum should rehearse his reading of the +_Sedrah_ on Friday in the synagogue itself, at an hour when it was +free from worshippers. This rehearsal, his mother thought, was now all +the more necessary to screw up Brum's confidence, but the father +argued that as all places were now alike to the blind boy, the +prominence of a public platform and a large staring audience could no +longer unnerve him. + +"But he will _feel_ them there!" Zillah protested. + +"But since they are not there on the Friday--?" + +"All the more reason. Since he cannot see that they are _not_ there, +he can fancy they _are_ there. On Saturday he will be quite used to +them." + + * * * * * + +But when Jossel, yielding, brought Brum to the synagogue appointment, +the fusty old Beadle who was faithfully in attendance held up his +hands in holy and secular horror at the blasphemy and the blindness +respectively. + +"A blind man may not read the Law to the congregation!" he explained. + +"No?" said Jossel. + +"Why not?" asked Brum sharply. + +"Because it stands that the Law shall be read. And a blind man cannot +read. He can only recite." + +"But I know every word of it," protested Brum. + +The Beadle shook his head. "But suppose you make a mistake! Shall the +congregation hear a word or a syllable that God did not write? It +would be playing into Satan's hands." + +"I shall say every word as God wrote it. Give me a trial." + +But the fusty Beadle's piety was invincible. He was highly sympathetic +toward the human affliction, but he refused to open the Ark and +produce the Scroll. + +"I'll let the _Chazan_ (cantor) know he must read to-morrow, as +usual," he said conclusively. + +Jossel went home, sighing, but silenced. Zillah however, was not so +easily subdued. "But my Brum will read it as truly as an angel!" she +cried, pressing the boy's head to her breast. "And suppose he does +make a mistake! Haven't I heard the congregation correct Winkelstein +scores of times?" + +"Hush!" said Jossel, "you talk like an Epicurean. Satan makes us all +err at times, but we must not play into his hands. The _Din_ +(judgment) is that only those who see may read the Law to the +congregation." + +"Brum will read it much better than that snuffling old Winkelstein." + +"Sha! Enough! The _Din_ is the _Din_!" + +"It was never meant to stop my poor Brum from--" + +"The _Din_ is the _Din_. It won't let you dance on its head or chop +wood on its back. Besides, the synagogue refuses, so make an end." + +"I _will_ make an end. I'll have _Minyan_ (congregation) here, in our +own house." + +"What!" and the poor man stared in amaze. "Always she falls from +heaven with a new idea!" + +"Brum shall not be disappointed." And she gave the silent boy a +passionate hug. + +"But we have no Scroll of the Law," Brum said, speaking at last, and +to the point. + +"Ah, that's you all over, Zillah," cried Jossel, relieved,--"loud +drumming in front and no soldiers behind!" + +"We can borrow a Scroll," said Zillah. + +Jossel gasped again. "But the iniquity is just the same," he said. + +"As if Brum made mistakes!" + +"If you were a Rabbi, the congregation would baptize itself!" Jossel +quoted. + +Zillah writhed under the proverb. "It isn't as if you went to the +Rabbi; you took the word of the Beadle." + +"He is a learned man." + +Zillah donned her bonnet and shawl. + +"Where are you going?" + +"To the minister." + +Jossel shrugged his shoulders, but did not stop her. + +The minister, one of the new school of Rabbis who preach sermons in +English and dress like Christian clergymen, as befitted the dignity of +Dalston villadom, was taken aback by the ritual problem, so new and so +tragic. His acquaintance with the vast casuistic literature of his +race was of the shallowest. "No doubt the Beadle is right," he +observed profoundly. + +"He cannot be right; he doesn't know my Brum." + +Worn out by Zillah's persistency, the minister suggested going to the +Beadle's together. Aware of the Beadle's prodigious lore, he had too +much regard for his own position to risk congregational odium by +flying in the face of an exhumable _Din_. + +At the Beadle's, the _Din_ was duly unearthed from worm-eaten folios, +but Zillah remaining unappeased, further searching of these Rabbinic +scriptures revealed a possible compromise. + +If the portion the boy recited was read over again by a reader not +blind, so that the first congregational reading did not count, it +might perhaps be permitted. + +It would be of course too tedious to treat the whole _Sedrah_ thus, +but if Brum were content to recite his own particular seventh thereof, +he should be summoned to the Rostrum. + +So Zillah returned to Jossel, sufficiently triumphant. + + +VI + +"Abraham, the son of Jossel, shall stand." + +In obedience to the Cantor's summons, the blind boy, in his high hat +and silken praying-shawl with the blue stripes, rose, and guided by +his father's hand ascended the platform, amid the emotion of the +synagogue. His brave boyish treble, pursuing its faultless way, +thrilled the listeners to tears, and inflamed Zillah's breast, as she +craned down from the gallery, with the mad hope that the miracle had +happened, after all. + +The house-gathering afterward savoured of the grewsome conviviality of +a funeral assemblage. But the praises of Brum, especially after his +great speech, were sung more honestly than those of the buried; than +whom the white-faced dull-eyed boy, cut off from the gaily coloured +spectacle in the sunlit room, was a more tragic figure. + +But Zillah, in her fineries and forced smiles, offered the most tragic +image of all. Every congratulation was a rose-wreathed dagger, every +eulogy of Brum's eloquence a reminder of the Rabbi God had thrown away +in him. + + +VII + +Amid the endless babble of suggestions made to her for Brum's cure, +one--repeated several times by different persons--hooked itself to her +distracted brain. Germany! There was a great eye-doctor in Germany, +who could do anything and everything. Yes, she would go to Germany. + +This resolution, at which Jossel shrugged his shoulders in despairing +scepticism, was received with rapture by Brum. How he had longed to +see foreign countries, to pass over that shining sea which whispered +and beckoned so, at Brighton and Ramsgate! He almost forgot he would +not _see_ Germany, unless the eye-doctor were a miracle-monger indeed. + +But he was doomed to a double disappointment; for instead of his going +to Germany, Germany came to him, so to speak, in the shape of the +specialist's annual visit to London; and the great man had nothing +soothing to say, only a compassionate head to shake, with ominous +warnings to make the best of a bad job and fatten up the poor boy. + +Nor did Zillah's attempts to read take her out of the infant primers, +despite long hours of knitted brow and puckered lips, and laborious +triumphs over the childish sentences, by patient addition of syllable +to syllable. She also tried to write, but got no further than her own +name, imitated from the envelopes. + +To occupy Brum's days, Jossel, gaining enlightenment in the ways of +darkness, procured Braille books. But the boy had read most of the +stock works thus printed for the blind, and his impatient brain +fretted at the tardiness of finger-reading. Jossel's one consolation +was that the boy would not have to earn his living. The thought, +however, of how his blind heir would be cheated by agents and +rent-collectors was a touch of bitter even in this solitary sweet. + + +VIII + +It was the Sabbath Fire-Woman who, appropriately enough, kindled the +next glimmer of hope in Zillah's bosom. The one maid-of-all-work, who +had supplied all the help and grandeur Zillah needed in her +establishment, having transferred her services to a husband, Zillah +was left searching for an angel at thirteen pounds a year. In the +interim the old Irishwoman who made a few pence a week by attending to +the Sabbath fires of the poor Jews of the neighbourhood, became +necessary on Friday nights and Saturdays, to save the household from +cold or sin. + +"Och, the quare little brat!" she muttered, when she first came upon +the pale, gnome-like figure by the fender, tapping the big book, for +all the world like the Leprechaun cobbling. + +"And can't he see at all, at all?" she asked Zillah confidentially one +Sabbath, when the boy was out of the room. + +Zillah shook her head, unable to speak. + +"_Nebbich!_" compassionately sighed the Fire-Woman, who had corrupted +her native brogue with "Yiddish." "And wud he be borrun dark?" + +"No, it came only a few months ago," faltered Zillah. + +The Fire-Woman crossed herself. + +"Sure, and who'll have been puttin' the Evil Oi on him?" she asked. + +Zillah's face was convulsed. + +"I always said so!" she cried; "I always said so!" + +"The divil burrun thim all!" cried the Fire-Woman, poking the coals +viciously. + +"Yes, but I don't know who it is. They envied me my beautiful child, +my lamb, my only one. And nothing can be done." She burst into tears. + +"Nothin' is a harrd wurrd! If he was _my_ bhoy, the darlint, I'd cure +him, aisy enough, so I wud." + +Zillah's sobs ceased. "How?" she asked, her eyes gleaming strangely. + +"I'd take him to the Pope, av course." + +"The Pope!" repeated Zillah vaguely. + +"Ay, the Holy Father! The ownly man in this wurruld that can take away +the Evil Oi." + +Zillah gasped. "Do you mean the Pope of Rome?" + +She knew the phrase somehow, but what it connoted was very shadowy and +sinister: some strange, mighty chief of hostile heathendom. + +"Who else wud I be manin'? The Holy Mother I'd be for prayin' to +meself; but as ye're a Jewess, I dursn't tell ye to do that. But the +Pope, he's a gintleman, an' so he is, an' sorra a bit he'll moind that +ye don't go to mass, whin he shpies that poor, weeshy, pale shrimp o' +yours. He'll just wave his hand, shpake a wurrd, an' whisht! in the +twinklin' of a bedposht ye'll be praisin' the Holy Mother." + +Zillah's brain was whirling. "Go to Rome!" she said. + +The Fire-Woman poised the poker. + +"Well, ye can't expect the Pope to come to Dalston!" + +"No, no; I don't mean that," said Zillah, in hasty apology. "Only it's +so far off, and I shouldn't know how to go." + +"It's not so far off as Ameriky, an' it's two broths of bhoys I've got +there." + +"Isn't it?" asked Zillah. + +"No, Lord love ye: an' sure gold carries ye anywhere nowadays, ixcept +to Heaven." + +"But if I got to Rome, would the Pope see the child?" + +"As sartin as the child wud see him," the Fire-Woman replied +emphatically. + +"He can do miracles, then?" inquired Zillah. + +"What else wud he be for? Not that 'tis much of a miracle to take away +the Evil Oi, bad scran to the witch!" + +"Then perhaps our Rabbi can do it, too?" cried Zillah, with a sudden +hope. + +The Fire-Woman shook her head. "Did ye ever hear he could?" + +"No," admitted Zillah. + +"Thrue for you, mum. Divil a wurrd wud I say aginst your +Priesht--wan's as good as another, maybe, for ivery-day use; but whin +it comes to throuble and heart-scaldin', I pity the poor craythurs who +can't put up a candle to the blessed saints--an' so I do. Niver a bhoy +o' mine has crassed the ocean without the Virgin havin' her candle." + +"And did they arrive safe?" + +"They did so; ivery mother's son av 'em." + + +IX + +The more the distracted mother pondered over this sensational +suggestion, the more it tugged at her. Science and Judaism had failed +her: perhaps this unknown power, this heathen Pope, had indeed +mastery over things diabolical. Perhaps the strange religion he +professed had verily a saving efficacy denied to her own. Why should +she not go to Rome? + +True, the journey loomed before her as fearfully as a Polar Expedition +to an ordinary mortal. Germany she had been prepared to set out for: +it lay on the great route of Jewish migration westwards. But Rome? She +did not even know where it was. But her new skill in reading would, +she felt, help her through the perils. She would be able to make out +the names of the railway stations, if the train waited long enough. + +But with the cunning of the distracted she did not betray her +heretical ferment. + +"P--o--p--e, Pope," she spelt out of her infants' primer in Brum's +hearing. "Pope? What's that, Brum?" + +"Oh, haven't you ever heard of the Pope, mother?" + +"No," said Zillah, crimsoning in conscious invisibility. + +"He's a sort of Chief Rabbi of the Roman Catholics. He wears a tiara. +Kings and emperors used to tremble before him." + +"And don't they now?" she asked apprehensively. + +"No; that was in the Middle Ages--hundreds of years ago. He only had +power over the Dark Ages." + +"Over the Dark Ages?" repeated Zillah, with a fresh, vague hope. + +"When all the world was sunk in superstition and ignorance, mother. +Then everybody believed in him." + +Zillah felt chilled and rebuked. "Then he no longer works miracles?" +she said faintly. + +Brum laughed. "Oh, I daresay he works as many miracles as ever. Of +course thousands of pilgrims still go to kiss his toe. I meant his +temporal power is gone--that is, his earthly power. He doesn't rule +over any countries; all he possesses is the Vatican, but that is full +of the greatest pictures by Michael Angelo and Raphael." + +Zillah gazed open-mouthed at the prodigy she had brought into the +world. + +"Raphael--that sounds Jewish," she murmured. She longed to ask in what +country Rome was, but feared to betray herself. + +Brum laughed again. "Raphael Jewish! Why--so it is! It's a Hebrew word +meaning 'God's healing.'" + +"God's healing!" repeated Zillah, awestruck. + +Her mind was made up. + + +X + +"Knowest thou what, Jossel?" she said in "Yiddish," as they sat by the +Friday-night fireside when Brum had been put to bed. "I have heard of +a new doctor, better than all the others!" After all it was the +doctor, the healer, the exorcist of the Evil Eye, that she was seeking +in the Pope, not the Rabbi of an alien religion. + +Jossel shook his head. "You will only throw more money away." + +"Better than throwing hope away." + +"Well, who is it now?" + +"He lives far away." + +"In Germany again?" + +"No, in Rome." + +"In Rome? Why, that's at the end of the world--in Italy!" + +"I know it's in Italy!" said Zillah, rejoiced at the information. "But +what then? If organ-grinders can travel the distance, why can't I?" + +"But you can't speak Italian!" + +"And they can't speak English!" + +"Madness! Work, but not wisdom! I could not trust you alone in such a +strange country, and the season is too busy for me to leave the +factory." + +"I don't need you with me," she said, vastly relieved. "Brum will be +with me." + +He stared at her. "Brum!" + +"Brum knows everything. Believe me, Jossel, in two days he will speak +Italian." + +"Let be! Let be! Let me rest!" + +"And on the way back he will be able to see! He will show me +everything, and Mr. Raphael's pictures. 'God's healing,'" she murmured +to herself. + +"But you'd be away for Passover! Enough!" + +"No, we shall be easily back by Passover." + +"O these women! The Almighty could not have rested on the seventh day +if he had not left woman still uncreated." + +"You don't care whether Brum lives or dies!" Zillah burst into sobs. + +"It is just because I do that I ask how are you going to live on the +journey? And there are no _kosher_ hotels in Italy." + +"We shall manage on eggs and fish. God will forgive us if the hotel +plates are unclean." + +"But you won't be properly nourished without meat." + +"Nonsense; when we were poor we _had_ to do without it." To herself +she thought, "If he only knew I did without food altogether on Mondays +and Thursdays!" + + +XI + +And so Brum passed at last over the shining, wonderful sea, feeling +only the wind on his forehead and the salt in his nostrils. It was a +beautiful day at the dawn of spring; the far-stretching sea sparkled +with molten diamonds, and Zillah felt that the highest God's blessing +rested like a blue sky over this strange pilgrimage. She was dressed +with great taste, and few would have divined the ignorance under her +silks. + +"Mother, can you see France yet?" Brum asked very soon. + +"No, my lamb." + +"Mother, can you see France yet?" he persisted later. + +"I see white cliffs," she said at last. + +"Ah! that's only the white cliffs of Old England. Look the other way." + +"I _am_ looking the other way. I see white cliffs coming to meet us." + +"Has France got white cliffs, too?" cried Brum, disappointed. + +On the journey to Paris he wearied her to describe France. In vain she +tried: her untrained vision and poor vocabulary could give him no new +elements to weave into a mental picture. There were trees and +sometimes houses and churches. And again trees. What kind of trees? +Green! Brum was in despair. France was, then, only like England; white +cliffs without, trees and houses within. He demanded the Seine at +least. + +"Yes, I see a great water," his mother admitted at last. + +"That's it! It rises in the Côte d'Or, flows N.N.W. then W., and N.W. +into the English Channel. It is more than twice as long as the Thames. +Perhaps you'll see the tributaries flowing into it--the little +rivers, the Oise, the Marne, the Yonne." + +"No wonder the angels envy me him!" thought Zillah proudly. + +They halted at Paris, putting up for the night, by the advice of a +friendly fellow-traveller, at a hotel by the Gare de Lyon, where, to +Zillah's joy and amazement, everybody spoke English to her and +accepted her English gold--a pleasant experience which was destined to +be renewed at each stage, and which increased her hope of a happy +issue. + +"How loud Paris sounds!" said Brum, as they drove across it. He had to +construct it from its noises, for in answer to his feverish +interrogations his mother could only explain that some streets were +lined with trees and some foolish unrespectable people sat out in the +cold air, drinking at little tables. + +"Oh, how jolly!" said Brum. "But can't you see Notre Dame?" + +"What's that?" + +"A splendid cathedral, mother--very old. Do look for two towers. We +must go there the first thing to-morrow." + +"The first thing to-morrow we take the train. The quicker we get to +the doctor, the better." + +"Oh, but we can't leave Paris without seeing Notre Dame, and the +gargoyles, and perhaps Quasimodo, and all that Victor Hugo describes. +I wonder if we shall see a devil-fish in Italy," he added +irrelevantly. + +"You'll see the devil if you go to such places," said Zillah, who, +besides shirking the labor of description, was anxious not to provoke +unnecessarily the God of Israel. + +"But I've often been to St. Paul's with the boys," said Brum. + +"Have you?" She was vaguely alarmed. + +"Yes, it's lovely--the stained windows and the organ. Yes, and the +Abbey's glorious, too; it almost makes me cry. I always liked to hear +the music with my eyes shut," he added, with forced cheeriness, "and +now that'll be all right." + +"But your father wouldn't like it," said Zillah feebly. + +"Father wouldn't like me to read the _Pilgrim's Progress_," retorted +Brum. "He doesn't understand these things. There's no harm in our +going to Notre Dame." + +"No, no; it'll be much better to save all these places for the way +back, when you'll be able to see for yourself." + +Too late it struck her she had missed an opportunity of breaking to +Brum the real object of the expedition. + +"But the Seine, anyhow!" he persisted. "We can go there to-night." + +"But what can you see at night?" cried Zillah, unthinkingly. + +"Oh, mother! how beautiful it used to be to look over London Bridge at +night when we came back from the Crystal Palace!" + +In the end Zillah accepted the compromise, and after their dinner of +fish and vegetables--for which Brum had scant appetite--they were +confided by the hotel porter to a bulbous-nosed cabman, who had +instructions to restore them to the hotel. Zillah thought wistfully of +her warm parlour in Dalston, with the firelight reflected in the glass +cases of the wax flowers. + +The cab stopped on a quay. + +"Well?" said Brum breathlessly. + +"Little fool!" said Zillah good-humouredly. "There is nothing but +water--the same water as in London." + +"But there are lights, aren't there?" + +"Yes, there are lights," she admitted cheerfully. + +"Where is the moon?" + +"Where she always is--in the sky." + +"Doesn't she make a silver path on the water?" he said, with a sob in +his voice. + +"What are you crying at? The mother didn't mean to make you cry." + +She strained him contritely to her bosom, and kissed away his tears. + + +XII + +The train for Switzerland started so early that Brum had no time to +say his morning prayers; so, the carriage being to themselves, he +donned his phylacteries and his praying-shawl with the blue stripes. + +Zillah sat listening to the hour-long recitative with admiration of +his memory. + +Early in the hour she interrupted him to say: "How lucky I haven't to +say all that! I should get tired." + +"That's curious!" replied Brum. "I was just saying, 'Blessed art Thou, +O Lord our God, who hath not made me a woman.' But a woman _has_ to +pray, too, mother. Else why is there given a special form for the +women to substitute?--'Who hath made me according to His will.'" + +"Ah, that's only for learned women. Only learned women pray." + +"Well, you'd like to pray the Benediction that comes next, mother, I +know. Say it with me--do." + +She repeated the Hebrew obediently, then asked: "What does it mean?" + +"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the +blind.'" + +"Oh, my poor Brum! Teach it me! Say the Hebrew again." + +She repeated it till she could say it unprompted. And then throughout +the journey her lips moved with it at odd times. It became a +talisman--a compromise with the God who had failed her. + +"Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the blind." + + +XIII + +Mountains were the great sensation of the passage through Switzerland. +Brum had never seen a mountain, and the thought of being among the +highest mountains in Europe was thrilling. Even Zillah's eyes could +scarcely miss the mountains. She painted them in broad strokes. But +they did not at all correspond to Brum's expectations of the Alps. + +"Don't you see glaciers?" he asked anxiously. + +"No," replied Zillah, but kept a sharp eye on the windows of passing +chalets till the boy discovered that she was looking for glaziers at +work. + +"Great masses of ice," he explained, "sliding down very slowly, and +glittering like the bergs in the Polar regions." + +"No, I see none," she said, blushing. + +"Ah! wait till we come to Mont Blanc." + +Mont Blanc was an obsession; his geography was not minute enough to +know that the route did not pass within sight of it. He had expected +it to dominate Switzerland as a cathedral spire dominates a little +town. + +"Mont Blanc is 15,784 feet above the sea," he said voluptuously. +"Eternal snow is on its top, but you will not see that, because it is +above the clouds." + +"It is, then, in Heaven," said Zillah. + +"God is there," replied Brum gravely, and burst out with Coleridge's +lines from his school-book:-- + + "'God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, + Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God! + God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice! + Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! + And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow, + And in their perilous fall shall thunder God!'" + +"Who openest the eyes of the blind," murmured Zillah. + +"There are five torrents rushing down, also," added Brum. "'And you, +ye five wild torrents fiercely glad.' You'll recognize Mont Blanc by +that. Don't you see them yet, mother?" + +"Wait, I think I see them coming." + +Presently she announced Mont Blanc definitely; described it with +glaciers and torrents and its top reaching to God. + +Brum's face shone. + +"Poor lamb! I may as well give him Mont Blanc," she thought tenderly. + + +XIV + +Endless other quaint dialogues passed between mother and son on that +tedious and harassing journey southwards. + +"There'll be no more snow when we get to Italy," Brum explained. +"Italy's the land of beauty--always sunshine and blue sky. It's the +country of the old Gods--Venus, the goddess of beauty; Juno, with her +peacocks; Jupiter, with his thunderbolts, and lots of others." + +"But I thought the Pope was a Christian," said Zillah. + +"So he is. It was long ago, before people believed in Christianity." + +"But then they were all Jews." + +"Oh no, mother. There were Pagan gods that people used to believe in +at Rome and in Greece. In Greece, though, these gods changed their +names." + +"So!" said Zillah scornfully; "I suppose they wanted to have a fresh +chance. And what's become of them now?" + +"They weren't ever there, not really." + +"And yet people believed in them? Is it possible?" Zillah clucked her +tongue with contemptuous surprise. Then she murmured mechanically, +"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the +blind.'" + +"Well, and what do people believe in now? The Pope!" Brum reminded +her. "And yet _he's_ not true." + +Zillah's heart sank. "But he's really there," she protested feebly. + +"Oh yes, he's there, because pilgrims come from all parts of the world +to get his blessing." + +Her hopes revived. + +"But they wouldn't come unless he really did them good." + +"Well, if you argue like that, mother, you might as well say we ought +to believe in Christ." + +"Hush! hush!" The forbidden word jarred on Zillah. She felt chilled +and silenced. She had to call up the image of the Irish Fire-Woman to +restore herself to confidence. It was clear Brum must not be told; his +unfaith might spoil all. No, the deception must be kept up till his +eyes were opened--in more than one sense. + + +XV + +After Mont Blanc, Brum's great interest was the leaning tower of Pisa. +"It is one of the wonders of the world," he said; "there are seven +altogether." + +"Yes, it is a wonderful world," said Zillah; "I never thought about it +before." + +And in truth Italy was beginning to touch sleeping chords. The +cypresses, the sunset on the mountains, the white towns dozing on the +hills under the magical blue sky,--all these broad manifestations of +an obvious beauty, under the spur of Brum's incessant interrogatory, +began to penetrate. Nature in unusual combinations spoke to her as its +habitual phenomena had never done. Her replies to Brum did rough +justice to Italy. + +Florence recalled "Romola" to the boy. He told his mother about +Savonarola. "He was burnt!" + +"What!" cried Zillah. "Burn a Christian! No wonder, then, they burnt +Jews. But why?" + +"He wanted the people to be good. All good people suffer." + +"Oh, nonsense, Brum! It is the bad who suffer." + +Then she looked at his wasted, white face, grown thinner with the +weariness of the long journey through perpetual night, and wonder at +her own words struck her silent. + + +XVI + +They arrived at last in the Eternal City, having taken a final run of +many hours without a break. But the Pope was still to seek. + +Leaving the exhausted Brum in bed, Zillah drove the first morning to +the Vatican, where Brum said he lived, and asked to see him. + +A glittering Swiss Guard stared blankly at her, and directed her by +dumb show to follow the stream of people--the pilgrims, Zillah told +herself. She was made to scrawl her name, and, thanking God that she +had acquired that accomplishment, she went softly up a gorgeous flight +of steps, and past awe-inspiring creatures in tufted helmets, into the +Sistine Chapel, where she wondered at people staring ceilingwards +through opera-glasses, or looking downwards into little mirrors. +Zillah also stared up through the gloom till she had a crick in the +neck, but saw no sign of the Pope. She inquired of the janitor whether +he was the Pope, and realized that English was, after all, not the +universal language. She returned gloomily to see after Brum, and to +consider her plan of campaign. + +"The great doctor was not at home," she said. "We must wait a little." + +"And yet you made us hurry so through everything," grumbled Brum. + +Brum remained in bed while Zillah went to get some lunch in the +dining-room. A richly dressed old lady who sat near her noticed that +she was eating Lenten fare, like herself, and, assuming her a +fellow-Catholic, spoke to her, in foreign-sounding English, about the +blind boy whose arrival she had observed. + +Zillah asked her how one could get to see the Pope, and the old lady +told her it was very difficult. + +"Ah, those blessed old times before 1870!--ah, the splendid ceremonies +in St. Peter's! Do you remember them?" + +Zillah shook her head. The old lady's assumption of spiritual +fellowship made her uneasy. + +But St. Peter's stuck in her mind. Brum had already told her it was +the Pope's house of prayer. Clearly, therefore, it was only necessary +to loiter about there with Brum to chance upon him and extort his +compassionate withdrawal of the spell of the Evil Eye. With a +culminating inspiration she bought a photograph of the Pope, and +overcoming the first shock of hereditary repulsion at the sight of the +large pendent crucifix at his breast, she studied carefully the +Pontiff's face and the Papal robes. + +Then, when Brum declared himself strong enough to get up, they drove +to St. Peter's, the instruction being given quietly to the driver so +that Brum should not overhear it. + +It was the first time Zillah had ever been in a cathedral; and the +vastness and glory of it swept over her almost as a reassuring sense +of a greater God than she had worshipped in dingy synagogues. She +walked about solemnly, leading Brum by the hand, her breast swelling +with suppressed sobs of hope. Her eyes roved everywhere, searching for +the Pope; but at moments she well-nigh forgot her disappointment at +his absence in the wonder and ghostly comfort of the great dim spaces, +and the mysterious twinkle of the countless lights before the bronze +canopy with its golden-flashing columns. + +"Where are we, mother?" said Brum at last. + +"We are waiting for the doctor." + +"But where?" + +"In the waiting-room." + +"It seems very large, mother." + +"No, I am walking round and round." + +"There is a strange smell, mother,--I don't know what--something +religious." + +"Oh, nonsense!" She laughed uneasily. + +"I know what it smells like: cold marble pillars and warm coloured +windows." + +Her blood froze at such uncanny sensibility. + +"It is the smell of the medicines," she murmured. Somehow his +divination made it more difficult to confess to him. + +"It feels like being in St. Paul's or the Abbey," he persisted, "when +I used to shut my eyes to hear the organ better." He had scarcely +ceased speaking, when a soft, slow music began to thrill with life the +great stone spaces. + +Brum's grasp tightened convulsively: a light leapt into the blind +face. Both came to a standstill, silent. In Zillah's breast rapture +made confusion more confounded; and as this pealing grandeur, swelling +more passionately, uplifted her high as the mighty Dome, she forgot +everything--even the need of explanation to Brum--in this wonderful +sense of a Power that could heal, and her Hebrew benediction flowed +out into sobbing speech:-- + +"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the +blind.'" + +But Brum had fainted, and hung heavy on her arm. + + +XVII + +When Brum awoke, in bed again, after his long fainting-fit, he related +with surprise his vivid dream of St. Paul's, and Zillah weakly +acquiesced in the new deception, especially as the doctor warned her +against exciting the boy. But her hopes were brighter than ever; for +the old lady had beneficently appeared from behind a pillar in St. +Peter's to offer eau de Cologne for the unconscious Brum, and had +then, interesting herself in the couple, promised to procure for her +fellow-Catholics admission to the next Papal reception. Being a very +rich and fashionable old lady, she kept her word; but unfortunately, +when the day came round, Brum was terribly low and forbidden to leave +his bed. + +Zillah was distracted. If she should miss the great chance after all! +It might never recur again. + +"Brum," she said at last, "this is the only day for a long time that +the great eye-doctor receives patients. Do you think you could go, my +lamb?" + +"Why won't he come here--like the other doctors?" + +"He is too great." + +"Well, I daresay I can manage. It's miserable lying in bed. Fancy +coming to Rome and seeing nothing!" + +With infinite care Brum was dressed and wrapped up, and placed in a +specially comfortable brougham; and thus at last mother and son stood +waiting in one of the ante-chambers of the Vatican, amid twenty other +pilgrims whispering in strange languages. Zillah was radiantly +assured: the mighty Power, whatever it was, that spoke in music and in +mountains, would never permit such weary journeyings and waitings to +end in the old darkness; the malice of witches could not prevail +against this great spirit of sunshine. For Brum, too, the long +pilgrimage had enveloped the doctor with a miraculous glamour as of an +eighth wonder of the world. + +Drooping wearily on his mother's arm, but wrought up to joyous +anticipation, Brum had an undoubting sense of the patient crowd around +him waiting, as in his old hospital days, for admission to the +doctor's sanctum. His ear was strung for the ting-ting of the bell +summoning the sufferers one by one. + +At last a wave of awe swept over the little fashionable gathering, and +set Zillah's heart thumping and the room fading in mist, through which +the tall, venerable, robed figure, the eagle features softened in +benediction, gleamed like a god's. Then she found herself on her +knees, with Brum at her side, and the wonderful figure passing between +two rows of reverent pilgrims. + +"Why must I kneel, mother?" murmured Brum feebly. + +"Hush! hush!" she whispered. "The great doc--" she hesitated in awe of +the venerable figure--"the great healer is here." + +"The great healer!" breathed Brum. His face was transfigured with +ecstatic forevision. "'Who openeth the eyes of the blind,'" he +murmured, as he fell forward in death. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +II + +TRANSITIONAL + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +II + +TRANSITIONAL + + +I + +The day came when old Daniel Peyser could no longer withstand his +wife's desire for a wider social sphere and a horizon blacker with +advancing bachelors. For there were seven daughters, and not a man to +the pack. Indeed, there had been only one marriage in the whole +Portsmouth congregation during the last five years, and the Christian +papers had had reports of the novel ceremony, with the ritual bathing +of the bride and the breaking of the glass under the bridegroom's +heel. To Mrs. Peyser, brought up amid the facile pairing of the +Russian pale, this congestion of celibacy approached immorality. + +Portsmouth with its careless soldiers and sailors might be an +excellent town for pawnbroking, especially when one was not too +punctiliously acceptant of the ethics of the heathen, but as a market +for maidens--even with dowries and pretty faces--it was hopeless. But +it was not wholly as an emporium for bachelors that London appealed. +It was the natural goal of the provincial Jew, the reward of his +industry. The best people had all drifted to the mighty magic city, +whose fascination survived even cheap excursions to it. + +Would father deny that they had now made enough to warrant the +migration? No, father would not deny it. Ever since he had left +Germany as a boy he had been saving money, and his surplus he had +shrewdly invested in the neighbouring soil of Southsea, fast growing +into a watering-place. Even allowing three thousand pounds for each +daughter's dowry, he would still have a goodly estate. + +Was there any social reason why they should not cut as great a dash as +the Benjamins or the Rosenweilers? No, father would not deny that his +girls were prettier and more polished than the daughters of these +pioneers, especially when six of them crowded around the stern granite +figure, arguing, imploring, cajoling, kissing. + +"But I don't see why we should waste the money," he urged, with the +cautious instincts of early poverty. + +"Waste!" and the pretty lips made reproachful "Oh's!" + +"Yes, waste!" he retorted. "In India one treads on diamonds and gold, +but in London the land one treads on costs diamonds and gold." + +"But are we never to have a grandson?" cried Mrs. Peyser. + +The Indian item was left unquestioned, so that little Schnapsie, whose +childish imagination was greatly impressed by these eventful family +debates, had for years a vivid picture of picking her way with bare +feet over sharp-pointed diamonds and pebbly gold. Indeed, long after +she had learned to wonder at her father's naïve geography the word +"India" always shone for her with barbaric splendour. + +Environed by so much persistent femininity, the rugged elderly toiler +was at last nagged into accepting a leisured life in London. + + +II + +And so the family spread its wings joyfully and migrated to the +wonder-town. Only its head and tail--old Daniel and little +Schnapsie--felt the least sentiment for the things left behind. Old +Daniel left the dingy synagogue to whose presidency he had mounted +with the fattening of his purse, and in which he bought for himself, +or those he delighted to honour, the choicest privileges of +ark-opening or scroll-bearing; left the cronies who dropped in to play +"Klabberjagd" on Sunday afternoons; left the bustling lucrative +Saturday nights in the shop when the heathen housewives came to redeem +their Sabbath finery. + +And little Schnapsie--who was only eleven, and not keen about +husbands--left the twinkling tarry harbour, with its heroic hulks and +modern men-of-war amid which the half-penny steamer plied; left the +great waves that smashed on the pebbly beach, and the friendly moon +that threw shimmering paths across their tranquillity; left the narrow +lively streets in which she had played, and the school in which she +had always headed her class, and the salt wind that blew over all. + +Little Schnapsie was only Schnapsie to her father. Her real name was +Florence. The four younger girls all bore pagan names--Sylvia, Lily, +Daisy, Florence--symbolic of the influence upon the family councils of +the three elder girls, grown to years of discretion and disgust with +their own Leah, Rachael, and Rebecca. Between these two strata of +girls--Jewish and pagan--two boys had intervened, but their stay was +brief and pitiful, so that all this plethora of progeny had not +provided the father with a male mourner to say the _Kaddish_. But it +seemed likely a grandson would not long be a-wanting, for the eldest +girl was twenty-five, and all were good-looking. As if in irony, the +Jewish group was blond, almost Christian, in colouring (for they took +after the Teuton father), while the pagan group had characteristically +Oriental traits. In little Schnapsie these Eastern charms--a whit +heavy in her sisters--were repeated in a key of exquisite refinement. +The thick black eyebrows and hair were soft as silk, dark dreamy eyes +suffused her oval face with poetry, and her skin was like dead ivory +flushing into life. + + +III + +The first year at Highbury, that genteel suburb in the north of +London, was an enchanted ecstasy for the mother and the Jewish group +of girls, taken at once to the bosom of a great German clan, and +admitted to a new world of dances and dinners, of "at homes" and +theatres and card parties. The eldest of the pagan group, +Sylvia--tyrannically kept young in the interests of her sisters--was +the only one who grumbled at the change, for Lily and Daisy found +sufficient gain in the prospect of replacing the elder group when it +should have passed away in an odour of orange blossom. The scent of +that was always in the air, and Mrs. Peyser and her three hopefuls +sniffed it night and day. + +"No, no; Rebecca shall have him." + +"Not me! I am not going to marry a man with carroty hair. Leah's the +eldest; it's her turn first." + +"Thank you, my dear. Don't give away what you haven't got." + +Every new young man who showed the faintest signs of liking to drop +in, provoked a similar semi-facetious but also semi-serious +canvassing--his person, his income, and the girl to whom he should be +allotted supplying the sauce of every meal at which he--or his +fellow--was not present. + +Thus, whether in the flesh or the spirit, the Young Man--for so many +of him appeared on the scene that he hovered in the air rather as a +type than an individual--was a permanent guest at the Peyser table. + +But all this new domestic excitement did not compensate little +Schnapsie for her moonlit waters and the strange ships that came and +went with their cargo of mystery. + +And poor old Daniel found no cronies to appeal to him like the old, +nothing in the roar of London to compensate for the Saturday night +bustle of the pawn-shop, no dingy little synagogue desirous of his +presidential pomp. He sat inconspicuously in a handsome half-empty +edifice, and knew himself a superfluous atom in a vast lonely +wilderness. + +He was not, indeed, an imposing figure, with his ragged graying +whiskers and his boyish blue eyes. In the street he had the stoop and +shuffle of the Ghetto, and forgot to hide his coarse red hands with +gloves; in the house he persisted in wearing a pious skull-cap. At +first his more adaptable wife and his English-bred daughters tried to +fit him for decent society, and to make him feel at home during their +"at homes." But he was soon relegated to the background of these +brilliant social tableaux; for he was either too silent or too +talkative, with old-fashioned Jewish jokes which disconcerted the +smart young men, and with Hebrew quotations which they could not even +understand. And sometimes there thrilled through the small-talk the +trumpet-note of his nose, as he blew it into a coloured handkerchief. +Gradually he was eliminated from the drawing-room altogether. + +But for some years longer he reigned supreme in the dining-room--when +there was no company. Old habit kept the girls at table when he +intoned with noisy unction the Hebrew grace after meals; they even +joined in the melodious morceaux that diversified the plain-chant. But +little by little their contributions dwindled to silence. And when +they had smart company to dinner, the old man himself was hushed by +rows of blond and bugle eyebrows; especially after he had once or +twice put young men to shame by offering them the honour of reciting +the grace they did not know. + +Daniel's prayer on such occasions was at length reduced to a pious +mumbling, which went unobserved amid the joyous clatter of dessert, +even as his pious skull-cap passed as a preventive against cold. + +Last stage of all, the mumbling of his company manners passed over +into the domestic circle; and this humble whispering to God became +symbolic of his suppression. + + +IV + +"I don't think he means Rachael at all." + +"Oh, how can you say so, Leah? It was me he took down to supper." + +"Nonsense! it isn't either of you he's after; that's only his +politeness to my sisters. Didn't he say the bouquet was for me?" + +"Don't be silly, Rebecca. You know you can't have him. The eldest must +take precedence." + +This changed tone indicated their humbler attitude toward the Young +Man as the years went by. For the first young man did not propose, +either to the sisterhood _en bloc_ or to a particular sister. And his +example was followed by his successors. In fact, a procession of young +men passed and repassed through the house, or danced with the girls at +balls, without a single application for any of these many hands. And +the first season passed into the second, and the second into the +third, with tantalizing mirages of marriage. Balls, dances, dinners, a +universe of nebulous matrimonial matter on the whirl, but never the +shot-off star of an engagement! Mrs. Peyser's hair began to whiten +faster. She even surreptitiously called in the Shadchan, or rather +surrendered to his solicitations. + +"Pooh! Not find any one suitable?" he declared, rubbing his hands. "I +have hundreds of young men on my books, just your sort, real +gentlemen." + +At first the girls refused to consider applications from such a +source. It was not done in their set, they said. + +Mrs. Peyser snorted sceptically. "Oh, indeed! and pray how did those +Rosenweiler girls find husbands?" + +"Oh, yes, the Rosenweilers!" They shrugged their shoulders; they knew +they had not that disadvantage of hideousness. + +Nevertheless they lent an ear to the agent's suggestions as filtered +through the mother, though under pretence of deriding them. + +But the day came when even that pretence was dropped, and with broken +spirit they waited eagerly for each new possibility. And with the +passing of the years the Young Man aged. He grew balder, less +gentlemanly, poorer. + +Once indeed, he turned up as a handsome and wealthy Christian, but +this time it was he that was rejected in a unanimous sisterly shudder. +Five slow years wore by, then of a sudden the luck changed. A +water-proof manufacturer on the sunny side of forty appeared, the long +glacial epoch was broken up, and the first orange blossom ripened for +the Peyser household. + +It was Rebecca, the youngest of the Jewish group, who proved the +pioneer to the canopy, but her marriage gave a new lease of youth even +to the oldest. And miraculously, mysteriously, within a few months two +other girls flew off Mrs. Peyser's shoulders--a Jewish and a +pagan--though Sylvia was not yet formally "out." + +And though Leah, the first born, still remained unchosen, yet Sylvia's +marriage to a Bayswater household had raised the family status, and +provided a better field for operations. The Shadchan was frozen off. + +But he returned. For despite all these auguries and auspices another +arctic winter set in. No orange blossoms, only desolate lichens of +fruitless flirtation. + +Gradually the pagan group pushed its way into unconcealable womanhood. +The problem darkened all the horizon. The Young Man grew middle-aged +again. He lost all his money; he wanted old Daniel to set him up in +business. Even this seemed better than a barren fine ladyhood, and +Leah might have even harked back to the parental pawn-shop had not +another sudden epidemic of felicity married off all save little +Schnapsie within eighteen months. Mrs. Peyser was knocked breathless +by all these shocks. First a rich German banker, then a prosperous +solicitor (for Leah), then a Cape financier--any one in himself catch +enough to "gouge out the eyes" of the neighbours. + +"I told you so," she said, her portly bosom swelling portlier with +exultation as the sixth bride was whirled off in a rice shower from +the Highbury villa, while the other five sat around in radiant +matronhood. "I told you to come to London." + +Daniel pressed her hand in gratitude for all the happiness she had +given herself and the girls. + +"If it were not for Florence," she went on wistfully. + +"Ah, little Schnapsie!" sighed Daniel. Somehow he felt he would have +preferred her hymeneal felicity to all these marvellous marriages. +For there had grown up a strange sympathy between the poor lonely old +man, now nearly seventy, and his little girl, now twenty-four. They +never conversed except about commonplaces, but somehow he felt that +her presence warmed the air. And she--she divined his solitude, albeit +dimly; had an intuition of what life had been for him in the days +before she was born: the long days behind the counter, the risings in +the gray dawn to chant orisons and don phylacteries ere the pawn-shop +opened, the lengthy prayer and the swift supper when the shutters were +at last put up--all the bare rock on which this floriage of prosperity +had been sown. And long after the others had dropped kissing him +good-night, she would tender her lips, partly because of the necessary +domestic fiction that she was still a baby, but also because she felt +instinctively that the kiss counted in his life. + +Through all these years of sordid squabbles and canvassings and weary +waiting, all those endless scenes of hysteria engendered by the mutual +friction of all that close-packed femininity, poor Schnapsie had +lived, shuddering. Sometimes a sense of the pathos of it all, of the +tragedy of women's lives, swept over her. She regretted every inch she +grew, it seemed to shame her celibate sisters so. She clung willingly +to short skirts until she was of age, wore her long raven hair in a +plait with a red ribbon. + +"Well, Florence," said Leah genially, when the last outsider at +Daisy's wedding had departed, "it's your turn next. You'd better hurry +up." + +"Thank you," said Florence coldly. "I shall take my own time; +fortunately there is no one behind me." + +"Humph!" said Leah, playing with her diamond rings. "It don't do to be +too particular. Why don't you come round and see me sometimes?" + +"There are so many of you now," murmured Florence. She was not +attracted by the solicitors and traders in whose society and carriages +her mother lolled luxuriously, and she resented the matronly airs of +her sisters. With Leah, however, she was conscious of a different and +more paradoxical provocation. Leah had an incredible air of +juvenility. All those unthinkable, innumerable years little Schnapsie +had conceived of her eldest sister as an old maid, hopeless, +senescent, despite the wonderful belt that had kept her figure +dashing; but now that she was married she had become the girlish +bride, kittenish, irresistible, while little Schnapsie was the old +maid, the sister in peril of being passed by. And indeed she felt +herself appallingly ancient, prematurely aged by her long stay at +seventeen. + +"Yes, you are right, Leah," she said pensively, with a touch of +malice. "To-morrow I shall be twenty-four." + +"What?" shrieked Leah. + +"Yes," Florence said obstinately. "And oh, how glad I shall be!" She +raised her arms exultingly and stretched herself, as if shooting up +seven years as soon as the pressure of her sisters was removed. + +"Do you hear, mother?" whispered Leah. "That fool of a Florence is +going to celebrate her twenty-fourth birthday. Not the slightest +consideration for _us_!" + +"I didn't say I would celebrate it publicly," said Florence. +"Besides," she suggested, smiling, "very soon people will forget that +I am _not_ the eldest." + +"Then your folly will recoil on your own head," said Leah. + +Little Schnapsie gave a devil-may-care shrug--a Ghetto trait that +still clung to all the sisters. + +"Yes," added Mrs. Peyser. "Think what it will be in ten years' time!" + +"I shall be thirty-four," said Florence imperturbably. Another little +smile lit up the dreamy eyes. "Then I _shall_ be the eldest." + +"Madness!" cried Mrs. Peyser, aloud, forgetting that her daughters' +husbands were about. "God forbid I should live to see any girl of mine +thirty-four!" + +"Hush, mother!" said Florence quietly. "I hope you will; indeed, I am +sure you will, for I shall _never_ marry. So don't bother to put me on +the books--I'm not on the market. Good-night." + +She sought out poor Daniel, who, awed by the culture and standing of +his five sons-in-law, not to speak of the guests, was hanging about +the deserted supper-room, smoking cigar after cigar, much to the +disgust of the caterer's men, who were waiting to spirit away the box. + +Having duly kissed her father, little Schnapsie retired to bed to read +Browning's love-poems. Her mother had to take a glass of champagne to +restore her ruffled nerves to the appropriate ecstasy. + + +V + +Poor portly Mrs. Peyser was not destined to enjoy her harvest of +happiness for more than a few years. But these years were an +overbrimming cup, with only the bitter drop of Florence's heretical +indifference to the Young Man. Environed by the six households which +she had begotten, Mrs. Peyser breathed that atmosphere of ebullient +babyhood which was the breath of her Jewish nostrils; babies appeared +almost every other month. It was a seething well-spring of healthy +life. Religious ceremonies connected with these chubby new-comers, or +medical recipes for their bodily salvation, absorbed her. But her +exuberant grandmotherliness usually received a check in the summer, +when the babies were deported to scattered sea-shores; and thus it +came to pass that the summer of her death found her still lingering in +London with a bad cold, with only Daniel and little Schnapsie at +hand. And before the others could be called, Mrs. Peyser passed away +in peace, in the old Portsmouth bed, overlooked by the old Hebrew +picture exiled from the London dining-room. + +It was a curious end. She did not know she was dying, but Daniel was +anxious she should not be reft into silence before she had made the +immemorial proclamation of the Unity. At the same time he hesitated to +appall her with the grim knowledge. + +He was blubbering piteously, yet striving to hide his sobs. The early +days of his struggle came back, the first weeks of wedded happiness, +then the long years of progressive prosperity and godly cheerfulness +in Portsmouth ere she had grown fashionable and he unimportant; and a +vast self-pity mingled with his pitiful sense of her excellencies--the +children she had borne him in agony, the economy of her house +management, the good bargains she had driven with the clod-pated +soldiers and sailors, the later splendour of her social achievement. + +And little Schnapsie wept with a sense of the vanity of these dual +existences to which she owed her own empty life. + +Suddenly Mrs. Peyser, over whose black eyes a glaze had been stealing, +let the long dark eyelashes fall over them. + +"Sarah!" whispered Daniel frantically. "Say the Shemang!" + +"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one," said the sensuous +lips obediently. + +Little Schnapsie shrugged her shoulders rebelliously. The dogma seemed +so irrelevant. + +Mrs. Peyser opened her eyes, and a beautiful mother-light came into +them as she saw the weeping girl. + +"Ah, Florrie, do not fret," she said reassuringly, in her long-lapsed +Yiddish. "I will find thee a bridegroom." + +Her eyes closed, and little Schnapsie shuddered with a weird image of +a lover fetched from the shrouded dead. + + +VI + +After his Sarah had been lowered into "The House of Life," and the +excitement of the tombstone recording her virtues had subsided, Daniel +would have withered away in an empty world but for little Schnapsie. +The two kept house together; the same big house that had reeked with +so much feminine life, and about which the odours of perfumes and +powders still seemed to linger. But father and daughter only met at +meals. He spent hours over the morning paper, with the old quaint +delusions about India and other things he read of, and he pottered +about the streets, or wandered into the Beth-Hamidrash, which a local +fanatic had just instituted in North London, and in which, under the +guidance of a Polish sage, Daniel strove to concentrate his aged wits +on the ritual problems of Babylon. At long intervals he brushed his +old-fashioned high hat carefully, and timidly rang the bell of one of +his daughters' mansions, and was permitted to caress a loudly +remonstrating baby; but they all lived so far from him and one another +in this mighty London. From Sylvia's, where there was a boy with +buttons, he had always been frightened off, and when the others began +to emulate her, his visits ceased altogether. As for the sisters +coming to see him, all pleaded overwhelming domestic duty, and the +frigidity of Florence's reception of them. "Now if you lived alone--or +with one of us!" But somehow Daniel felt the latter alternative would +be as desolate as the former. And though he knew some wide vague river +flowed between even his present housemate's life and his own, yet he +felt far more clearly the bridge of love over which their souls passed +to each other. + +Figure then the septuagenarian's amaze when, one fine morning, as he +was shuffling about in his carpet slippers, the servant brought him +word that his six daughters demanded his instantaneous presence in the +drawing-room. + +The shock drove out all thoughts of toilet; his heart beat quicker +with a painful premonition of he knew not what. This simultaneous +visit recalled funerals, weddings. He looked out of a window and saw +four carriages drawn up, and that completed his sense of something +elemental. He tottered into the drawing-room--grown dingy now that it +had no more daughters to dispose of--and shrank before the +resplendence with which their presence reinvested it. They rustled +with silks, shone with gold necklaces, and impregnated the air with +its ancient aroma of powders and perfumes. He felt himself dwindling +before all this pungent prosperity, like some more creative +Frankenstein before a congress of his own monsters. + +They did not rise as he entered. The Jewish group and the pagan group +were promiscuously seated--marriage had broken down all the ancient +landmarks. They all looked about the same agelessness--a standstill +buxom matronhood. + +Daniel stood at the door, glancing from one to another. Some coughed; +others fidgeted with muffs. + +"Sit down, sit down, father," said Rachael kindly, though she retained +the arm-chair,--and there was a general air of relief at her voice. +But the old embarrassment returned as the silence reëstablished itself +when Daniel had drooped into a stiff chair. + +At last Leah took the word: "We have come while Florrie is at her +slumming--" + +"At her slumming!" repeated Sylvia, with more significance, and a +meaning smile spread over the six faces. + +"Yes?" Daniel murmured. + +"--Because we did not want her to know of our coming." + +"It concerns Schnapsie?" he murmured. + +"Yes, your little Schnapsie," said Daisy viciously. + +"Yes; she has no time to come and see _us_," cried Rebecca. "But she +has plenty of time for her--_slumming_." + +"Well, she does good," he murmured apologetically. + +"A fat lot of good!" sniggered Rachael. + +"To herself!" corrected Lily. + +"I do not understand," he muttered uneasily. + +"Well--" began Lily. "You tell him, Leah; you know more about it." + +"You know as much as I do." + +He looked appealingly from one to the other. + +"I always said the slums were dangerous places for people of our +class," said Sylvia. "She doesn't even confine herself to her own +people." + +The faces began to lighten--evidently they felt the ice broken. + +"Dangerous!" he repeated, catching at the ominous word. + +"Dreadful!" in a common shudder. + +He half rose. "You have bad news?" he cried. + +The faces gloomed over, the heads nodded. + +"About Schnapsie?" he shrieked, jumping up. + +"Sit down, sit down; she's not dead," said Leah contemptuously. + +He sat down. + +"Well, what is it? What has happened?" + +"She's engaged!" In Leah's mouth the word sounded like a death-bell. + +"Engaged!" he breathed, with a glimmering foreboding of the horror. + +"To a Christian!" said Daisy brutally. + +He sank back, pale and trembling. A tense silence fell on the room. + +"But how? Who?" he murmured at last. + +The girls recovered themselves. Now they were all speaking at once. + +"Another slummer." + +"He's the son of an archdeacon." + +"An awful Christian crank." + +"And that's your pet Schnapsie." + +"If _we_ had wanted Christians, we could have been married twenty +years ago." + +"It's a terrible disgrace for us." + +"She doesn't consider us in the least." + +"She'll be miserable, anyhow. When they quarrel, he'll always throw it +up to her that she's a Jewess." + +"And wouldn't join our Daughters of Mercy committee--had no time." + +"Wasn't going to marry--turned up her nose at all the Jewish young +men!" + +"But she would have told me!" he murmured hopelessly. "I don't believe +it. My little Schnapsie!" + +"Don't believe it?" snorted Leah. "Why, she didn't even deny it." + +"Have you spoken to her, then?" + +"Have we spoken to her! Why, she says Judaism is all nonsense! She +will disgrace us all." + +The blind racial instinct spoke through them--the twenty-five +centuries of tested separateness. But Daniel felt in super-addition +the conscious religious horror. + +"But is she to be married in a Christian church?" he breathed. + +"Oh, she isn't going to marry--yet." + +His poor heart fluttered at the reprieve. + +"She doesn't care a pin for _our_ feelings," went on Leah. "But of +course she won't marry while _you_ are alive." + +Lily took up the thread. "We all told her if she'd only marry a Jew, +we'd all be glad to have you--in turn. But she said it wasn't that. +She could have you herself; her Alfred wouldn't mind. It's the shock +to your religious feelings that keeps her back. She doesn't want to +hurt you." + +"God bless her, my good little Schnapsie!" he murmured. His dazed +brain did not grasp all the bearings, was only conscious of a vast +relief. + +Disgust darkened all the faces. + +He groped to understand it, putting his hand over the white hairs that +straggled from his skull-cap. + +"But then--then it's all right." + +"Yes, all right," said Leah brutally. "But for how long?" + +Her meaning seized him like an icy claw upon his heart. For the first +time in his life he realized the certainty of death, and +simultaneously with the certainty its imminence. + +"We want you to put a stop to it _now_," said Sylvia. "For our sakes +make her promise that even when-- You're the only one who has any +influence over her." + +She rose, as if to wind up the painful interview, and the others rose, +too, with a multiplex rustling of silken skirts. He shook the six +jewelled hands as in a dream, and promised to do his best; and as he +watched the little procession of carriages roll off, it seemed to him +indeed a funeral, and his own. + + +VII + +Ah God, that it should have come to this. Little Schnapsie could not +be happy till he was dead. Well, why should he keep her waiting? What +mattered the few odd years or months? He was already dead. There was +his funeral going down the street. + +To speak to Schnapsie he had never intended, even while he was +promising it. Those years of silent life together had made real +conversation impossible. The bridge on which his soul passed over to +hers was a bridge over which hung a sacred silence. Under the weight +of words, especially of angry parental words, it might break down +forever. And that would be worse than death. + +No; little Schnapsie had her own life, and he somehow knew he had not +the right to question it, even though it seemed on the verge of deadly +sin. He could not have expressed it in logical speech, was not even +clearly conscious of it; but his tender relation with her had educated +him to a sense of her moral rightness, which now survived and +subsisted with his conviction that she was hopelessly astray. No, he +had not the right to interfere with her life, with her prospect of +happiness in her own way. He must give up living. Little Schnapsie +must be nearly thirty; the best of her youth was gone. She should be +happy with this strange man. + +But if he killed himself, that would bring disgrace on the family--and +little Schnapsie. Perhaps, too, Alfred would not marry her. Was there +no way of slipping quietly out of existence? But then suicide was +another deadly sin. If only that had really been his funeral +procession! + +"O God, God of Israel, tell me what to do!" + + +VIII + +A sudden inspiration leapt to his heart. She should not have to wait +for his death to be happy; he would _live_ to see her happy. He would +pretend that her marriage cost him no pang; indeed, would not truly +the pang be swallowed up in the thought of her happiness? But _would_ +she be happy? _Could_ she be happy with this alien? Ah, there was the +chilling doubt! If a quarrel came, would not the man always throw it +in her face that she was a Jewess? Well, that must be left to herself. +She was old enough not to rush into misery. Through all these years he +had taken her pensive brow as the seat of all wisdom, her tender eyes +as the glow of all goodness, and he could not suddenly readjust +himself to a contradictory conception. By the time she came in he had +composed himself for his task. + +"Ah, my dear," he said, with a beaming smile, "I have heard the good +news." + +The answering smile died out of her eyes. She looked frightened. + +"It's all right, little Schnapsie," he said roguishly. "So now I shall +have seven sons-in-law. And Alfred the Second, eh?" + +"You have heard?" + +"Yes," he said, pinching her ear. "Thinks she can keep anything from +her old father, does she?" + +"But do you know that he is a--a--" + +"A Christian? Of course. What's the difference, as long as he's a good +man, eh?" He laughed noisily. + +Little Schnapsie looked more frightened than ever. Were her father's +wits wandering at last? + +"But I thought--" + +"Thought I would want you to sacrifice yourself! No, no, my dear; we +are not in India, where women are burnt alive to please their dead +husbands." + +Little Schnapsie had an irrelevant vision of herself treading on +diamonds and gold. She murmured, "Who told you?" + +"Leah." + +"Leah! But Leah is angry about it!" + +"So she is. She came to me in a tantrum, but I told her whatever +little Schnapsie did was right." + +"Father!" With a sudden cry of belief and affection she fell on his +neck and kissed him. "But isn't the darling old Jew shocked?" she +said, half smiling, half weeping. + +Cunning lent him clairvoyance. "How much Judaism is there in your +sisters' husbands?" he said. "And without the religion, what is the +use of the race?" + +"Why, father, that's what I'm always preaching!" she cried, in +astonishment. "Think what our Judaism was in the dear old Portsmouth +days. What is the Sabbath here? A mockery. Not one of your sons-in-law +closes his business. But there, when the Sabbath came in, how +beautiful! Gradually it glided, glided; you heard the angel's wings. +Then its shining presence was upon you, and a holy peace settled over +the house." + +"Yes, yes." His eyes filled with tears. He saw the row of innocent +girl faces at the white Sabbath table. What had London and prosperity +brought him instead? + +"And then the Atonement days, when the ram's horn thrilled us with a +sense of sin and judgment, when we thought the heavenly scrolls were +being signed and sealed. Who feels that here, father? Some of us don't +even fast." + +"True, true." He forgot his part. "Then you are a good Jewess still?" + +She shook her head sadly. "We have outlived our destiny. Our isolation +is a meaningless relic." + +But she had kindled a new spark of hope. + +"Can't you bring him over to us?" + +"To what? To our empty synagogues?" + +"Then you are going over to him?" He tried to keep his voice steady. + +"I must; his father is an archdeacon." + +"I know, I know," he said, though she might as well have said an +archangel. + +"But you do not believe in--in--" + +"I believe in self-sacrifice; that is Christianity." + +"Is it? I thought it was three Gods." + +"That is not the essential." + +"Thank God!" he said. Then he added hurriedly: "But will you be happy +with him? Such different bringing up! You can't really feel close to +him." + +She laughed and blushed. "There are deeper things than one's bringing +up, father." + +"But if after marriage you should have a quarrel, he would always +throw up to you that you are a Jewess." + +"No, Alfred will never do that." + +"Then make haste, little Schnapsie, or your old father won't live to +see you under the canopy." + +She smiled happily, believing him. "But there won't be any canopy," +she said. + +"Well, well, whatever it is," he laughed back, with horrid imagining +that it might be a Cross. + + +IX + +It was agreed between them that, to avoid endless family councils, the +sisters should not be told, and that the ceremony should be conducted +as privately as possible. The archdeacon himself was coming up to town +to perform the ceremony in the church of another of his sons in Chalk +Farm. After the short honeymoon, Daniel was to come and live with the +couple in Whitechapel, for they were to live in the centre of their +labours. Poor Daniel tried to find some comfort in the thought that +Whitechapel was a more Jewish and a homelier quarter than Highbury. +But the unhomely impression produced upon him by his latest son-in-law +neutralized everything. All his other sons-in-law had more or less +awed him, but beneath the awe ran a tunnel of brotherhood. With this +Alfred, however, he was conscious of a glacial current, which not all +the young man's cordiality could tepefy. + +"Are you sure you will be happy with him, little Schnapsie?" he asked +anxiously. + +"You dear worrying old thing!" + +"But if after marriage you quarrel, he will always throw it up to you +that you are--" + +"And I'll throw it up to him that he is a Christian, and oughtn't to +quarrel." + +He was silenced. But his heart thanked God that his dear old wife had +been spared the coming ordeal. + +"This too was for good," he murmured, in the Hebrew proverb. + +And so the tragic day drew nigh. + + +X + +One short week before, Daniel was wandering about, dazed by the near +prospect. An unholy fascination drew him toward Chalk Farm, to gaze on +the church in which the profane union would be perpetrated. Perhaps he +ought even to go inside; to get over his first horror at being in such +a building, so as not to betray himself during the actual ceremony. + +As he drew near the heathen edifice he saw a striped awning, +carriages, a bustle of people entering, a pressing, peeping crowd. A +wedding! + +Ah, good! There was no doubt now he must go in; he would see what this +unknown ceremony in this unknown building was like. It would be a sort +of rehearsal; it would help to steel him at the tragic moment. He was +passing through the central doors with some other men, but a policeman +motioned them to a side door. He shuffled timidly within. + +Full as the church was, the chill stone spaces struck cold to his +heart; all the vast alien life they typified froze his soul. The dread +word _Meshumad_--apostate--seemed echoing and reëchoing from the cold +pillars. He perceived his companions had bared their heads, and he +hastily snatched off his rusty beaver. The unaccustomed sensation in +his scalp completed his sense of unholiness. + +Nothing seemed going on yet, but as he slipped into a seat in the +aisle he became aware of an organ playing joyous preludes, almost +jiggish. For a moment he wondered dully what there was to be gay +about, and his eyes filled with bitter tears. + +A craning forward in the nondescript congregation made the old man +peer forward. + +He saw, at the far end of the church, a sort of platform upon which +four men, in strange, flowing robes, stood under a cross. He hid his +eyes from the sight of the symbol that had overshadowed his ancestors' +lives. When he opened his eyes again the men were kneeling. Would _he_ +have to kneel, he wondered. Would his old joints have to assume that +pagan posture? Presently four bridesmaids, shielded by great glowing +bouquets, appeared on the platform, and descending, passed with +measured theatric pace down the farther avenue, too remote for his +clear vision. His neighbours stood up to stare at them, and he rose, +too. And throughout the organ bubbled out its playful cadenzas. + +A stir and a buzz swept through the church. A procession began to file +in. At its head was a pale, severe young man, supported by a cheerful +young man. Other young men followed; then the bridesmaids reappeared. +And finally--target of every glance--there passed a glory of white +veil supported by an old military looking man in a satin waistcoat. + +Ah, that would be he and Schnapsie, then. Up that long avenue, beneath +all these curious Christian eyes, he, Daniel Peyser, would have to +walk. He tried to rehearse it mentally now, so that he might not shame +her; he paced pompously and stiffly, with beautiful Schnapsie on his +arm, a glory of white veil. He saw himself slowly reaching the +platform, under the chilling cross; then everything swam before him, +and he sank shuddering into his seat. His little Schnapsie! She was +being sucked up into all this hateful heathendom, to the seductive +music of satanic orchestras. + +He sat in a strange daze, vaguely conscious that the organ had ceased, +and that some preacher's recitative had begun instead. When he looked +up again, the bridal party before the altar loomed vague, as through +a mist. He passed his hand over his clouded brow. Of a sudden a +sentence of the recitative pierced sharply to his brain:-- + +"Therefore if any man can show any just cause why they may not +lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter +forever hold his peace." + +O God of Israel! Then it was the last chance! He sprang to his feet, +and shouted in agony: "No, no, she must not marry him! She must not!" + +All heads turned toward the shabby old man. An electric shiver ran +through the church. The bride paled; a bridesmaid shrieked; the +minister, taken aback, stood silent. A white-gloved usher hurried up. + +"Do you forbid the banns?" called the minister. + +The old man's mind awoke, and groped mistily. + +"Come, what have you to say?" snapped the usher. + +"I--I--nothing," he murmured in awed confusion. + +"He is drunk," said the usher. "Out with you, my man." He hustled +Daniel toward the side door, and let it swing behind him. + +But Daniel shrank from facing the cordon of spectators outside. He +hung miserably about the vestibule till the Wedding March swelled in +ironic triumph, and the human outpour swept him into the street. + + +XI + +His abstracted look, his ragged talk, troubled Schnapsie at the +evening meal, but she could not elicit that anything had happened. + +In the evening paper, her eye, avid of marriage items, paused on a +big-headed paragraph. + + "I FORBID THE BANNS!" + STRANGE SCENE AT A CHALK FARM CHURCH. + +When she had finished the paragraph and read another, the first began +to come back to her, shadowed with a strange suspicion. Why, this was +the very church--? A Jewish-looking old man--! Great heavens! Then all +this had been mere pose, self-sacrifice. And his wits were straying +under the too heavy burden! Only blind craving for her own happiness +could have made her believe that the mental habits of seventy years +could be broken off. + +"Well, father," she said brightly, "you will be losing me very soon +now." + +His lips quivered into a pathetic smile. + +"I am very glad." He paused, struggling with himself. "If you are sure +you will be happy!" + +"But haven't we talked that over enough, father?" + +"Yes--but you know--if a quarrel arose, he would always throw it +up--that--" + +"Nonsense, nonsense," she laughed. But the repetition of the old +thought struck her poignantly as a sign of maundering wits. + +"And you are sure you will get along together?" + +"Quite sure." + +"Then I am glad." He drew her to him, and kissed her. + +She broke down and wept under the conviction of his lying. He became +the comforter in his turn. + +"Don't cry, little Schnapsie, don't cry. I didn't mean to frighten +you. Alfred is a good man, and I am sure, even if you quarrel, he will +never throw it--" The mumbling passed into a kiss on her wet cheek. + + +XII + +That night, after a long passionate vigil in her bedroom, little +Schnapsie wrote a letter:-- + + "DEAREST ALFRED,--This will be as painful for you to read as for + me to write. I find at the eleventh hour I cannot marry you. I + owe it to you to state my reason. As you know, I did not consent + to our love being crowned by union till my father had given his + consent. I now find that this consent was not the free outcome + of my father's soul, that it was only to promote my happiness. + Try to imagine what it means for an old man of seventy odd years + to wrench himself away from all his life-long prejudices, and + you will realize what he has been trying to do for me. But the + wrench was beyond his strength. He is breaking his heart over + it, and, I fear, even wandering in his mind. + + "You will say, let us again consent to wait for a contingency + which I am not cold-blooded enough to set down more openly. But + I do not think it is fair to you to let you risk your happiness + further by keeping it entangled with mine. A new current of + thought has been set going in my mind. If a religion that I + thought all formalism is capable of producing such types of + abnegation as my dear father, then it must, too, somewhere or + other, hold in solution all those ennobling ingredients, all + those stimuli to self-sacrifice, which the world calls + Christian. Perhaps I have always misunderstood. We were so badly + taught. Perhaps the prosaic epoch of Judaism into which I was + born is only transitional, perhaps it only belongs to the middle + classes, for I know I felt more of its poetry in my childhood; + perhaps the future will develop (or recultivate) its diviner + sides and lay more stress upon the life beautiful, and thus all + this blind instinct of isolation may prove only the conservation + of the race for its nobler future, when it may still become, in + very truth, a witness to the Highest, a chosen people in whom + all the families of the earth may be blessed. I do not know; all + this is very confused and chaotic to me to-night. I only know I + can hold out no certain hope of the earthly fulfilment of our + love. I, too, feel in transition, and I know not to what. But, + dearest Alfred, shall we not be living the Christian life--the + life of abnegation--more truly if we give up the hope of + personal happiness? Forgive me, darling, the pain I am causing + you, and thus help me to bear my own. + + "Your friend till death, + "FLORENCE." + +It was an hour past midnight ere the letter was finished, and when it +was sealed a sense of relief at remaining in the Jewish fold stole +over her, though she would scarcely acknowledge it to herself, and +impatiently analyzed it away as hereditary. And despite it, if she +slept on the letter, would it ever be posted? + +But the house was sunk in darkness. She was the only creature +stirring. And yet she yearned to have the thing over, irrevocable. +Perhaps she might venture out herself with her latch-key. There was a +letter-box at the street corner. She lit a candle and stole out on the +landing, casting a monstrous shadow which frightened her. In her +over-wrought mood it almost seemed an uncanny creature grinning at +her. Her mother's death-bed rose suddenly before her; her mother's +voice cried: "Ah, Florrie, do not fret. I will find thee a +bridegroom." Was this the bridegroom--was this the only one she would +ever know? + +"Father! father!" she shrieked, with sudden terror. + +A door was thrown open; a figure shambled forth in carpet slippers--a +dear, homely, reassuring figure--holding the coloured handkerchief +which had helped to banish him from the drawing-room. His face was +smeared; his eyelids under the pushed-up horn spectacles were red: he, +too, had kept vigil. + +"What is it? What is it, little Schnapsie?" + +"Nothing. I--I--I only wanted to ask you if you would be good enough +to post this letter--to-night." + +"Good enough? Why, I shall enjoy a breath of air." + +He took the letter and essayed a roguish laugh as his eye caught the +superscription. + +"Ho! ho!" He pinched her cheek. "So we mustn't let a day pass without +writing to him, eh?" + +She quivered under this unforeseen misconception. + +"No," she echoed, with added firmness, "we mustn't let a day pass." + +"But go to bed at once, little Schnapsie. You look quite pale. If you +stay up so late writing him letters, you won't make him a beautiful +bride." + +"No," she repeated, "I won't make him a beautiful bride." + +She heard the hall door close gently upon his cautious footsteps, and +her eyes dimmed with divine tears as she thought of the joy that +awaited his return. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +III + +NOAH'S ARK + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +III + +NOAH'S ARK + + +I + +On a summer's day toward the close of the first quarter of the +nineteenth century after Christ, Peloni walked in "the good place" of +the Frankfort _Judengasse_ and pondered. At times he came to a +standstill and appeared to study the inscriptions on the tumbled +tombstones, or the carven dragons, shields, and stars, but his black +eyes burnt inward and he saw less the tragedy of Jewish death than the +tragedy of Jewish life. + +For "the good place" was the place of death. + +Here alone in Frankfort--in this shut-in bit of the shut-in +Jew-street--was true peace for Israel. The rest of the Jew-street +offered comparative tranquillity even for the living; yet when, ninety +years before Peloni was born, the great fire had raged therein, the +inhabitants had locked the Ghetto-gate against the Christians, less +fearful of the ravaging flames than of their fellow-citizens. Even +to-day, if he ventured outside the _Judengasse_, Peloni must tread +delicately. The foot-path was not for him: he must plod on the dusty +road, with all the other beasts. In some places the very road was too +holy for him, and any passer-by might snatch off his hat in punishment +for his breaking bounds. The ragged street urchin or the staggering +drunkard might cry to him "_'Jud,' mach mores_: Jew, mind your +manners." + +Some ten years ago the Frankfort Ghetto had been verbally abolished by +a civilized archduke, caught up in the wave of Napoleonic toleration. +Peloni had shared in the exultation of the Jews at the final +dissipation of the long night of mediĉvalism. He had written a Hebrew +poem on it, brilliantly rhymed, congested with apt quotations from +Bible and Talmud, the whole making an acrostic upon the name of the +enlightened Karl Theodor von Dalberg. Henceforth Israel would take his +place among the peoples, honour on his brow, love in his heart, +manhood in his limbs. A gracious letter of acknowledgment from the +archduke was displayed in the window of Peloni's little bookselling +establishment, amid the door-amulets, phylacteries, praying-shawls, +Purim-scrolls, and Hebrew volumes. + +But now the prince had been ousted, Napoleon was dead, everywhere the +Ghetto-gates were locked again, and the Poem lay stacked on the +remainder shelves. In vain had the grateful Jews hastened to fight for +the Fatherland, tendered it body and soul. Poor little curly-haired +Peloni had been attacked in the streets as an alien that very morning. +Roysterers had raised the old cry of "Hep! Hep!"--fatal, immemorial +cry, ghastly heritage of the Crusades. Century after century that cry +had gone echoing through Europe. Century after century the Jews +thought they had lived it down, bought it down, died it down. But no! +it rose again, buoyant, menacing, irresponsible. Ah, what a fool he +had been to hope! There was no hope. + +Rarely, indeed, since the Dark Ages had persecution flaunted itself so +openly. Riots and massacres were breaking out all over Germany, and in +his own Ghetto Peloni had seen sights that had turned his patriotism +to gall, and crushed his trust in the Christian, his beautiful +bubble-dreams of the Millennium. Rothschild himself, whose house in +the _Judengasse_ with the sign of the red shield had been the centre +of the attack, was well-nigh unable to maintain his position in the +town. And these local successes inflamed the Jew-haters everywhere. +"Let the children of Israel be sold to the English," recommended a +popular pamphlet of the period, "who could employ them in their Indian +plantations instead of the blacks. The best plan would be to purge the +land entirely of this vermin, either by exterminating them, or, as +Pharaoh, and the people of Meiningen, Würzburg, and Frankfort did, by +driving them from the country." + +"Oh, God!" thought Peloni, as his mind ran over the long chain from +Pharaoh to Frankfort. "Evermore to wander, stoned and derided! Thou +hast set a mark on his forehead, but his punishment is greater than he +can bear." + +The dead lay all around him, one upon another, new red stones +shouldering aside the gray stones that told to boot of the death of +the centuries. And the pressure of all this struggle for death-room +had raised the earth higher than the adjacent paths. He thought of how +these dead had always come here; even in their lifetime, when the +enemy raged outside. Here they had put the women and children and gone +back to the synagogue to pray. Ah, the cowards! always oscillating +betwixt cemetery and synagogue, why did they not live, why did they +not fight? Yes, but they had fought,--fought for Germany, and this was +Germany's reply. + +But could they not fight for themselves then, with money, with the +sinews of war, if not with the weapons; with gold, if not with steel? +could they not join financial forces all through the world? But no! +There was no such solidarity as the Christians dreamed. And they were +too mixed up with the European world to dream of self-concentration. +Even while the Frankfort Rothschild's house was surrounded by rioters, +the Paris Rothschild was giving a ball to the _élite_ of diplomatic +society. + +No! the old Jews were right--there was only the synagogue and the +cemetery. + +But was there even the synagogue? That, too, was dead. The living +faith, the vivid realization of Israel's hope, which had made the Dark +Ages endurable and even luminous, were only to be found now among +fanatics whose blind ignorance and fierce clinging to the dead letter +and the obsolete form counterbalanced the poetry and sublimity of +their persistence. In the Middle Ages, Peloni felt, his poems would +have been absorbed into the liturgy. For when the liturgy and the +religion were alive, they took in and gave out--like all living +things. But no--the synagogue of to-day was dead. + +Remained only the cemetery. + +"_Jude, verrek!_" Jew, die like a beast. + +Yes, what else was there to do? For he was not even a Rothschild, he +told himself with whimsical anguish; only a poor poet, unread, +unknown, unhealthy; a shadow that only found substance to suffer; a +set of heart-strings across which every wind that blew made a +poignant, passionate music; a lamentation incarnate, a voice of +weeping in the wilderness, a bubble blown of tears, a dream, a mist, a +nobody,--in short, Peloni! + +The dead generations drew him. He fell, weeping passionately, upon a +tomb. + + +II + +There seemed an unwonted stir in the _Judengasse_ when Peloni returned +to it. Was there another riot threatening? he thought, as he passed +along the narrow street of three-storied frame houses, most of them +gabled, and all marked by peculiar signs and figures--the Bear or the +Lion or the Garlic or the Red Shield (_Rothschild_)! + +Outside the synagogue loitered a crowd, and as he drew near he +perceived that there was a long Proclamation in a couple of folio +sheets nailed on the door. It was doubtless this which was being +discussed by the little groups he had already noted. About the +synagogue door the throng was so thick that he could not get near +enough to read it himself. But fortunately some one was engaged in +reading it aloud for the benefit of those on the outskirts. + +"'Wherefore I, Mordecai Manuel Noah, Citizen of the United States of +America, late Consul of said States to the City and Kingdom of Tunis, +High Sheriff of New York, Counsellor-at-Law, and by the Grace of God +Governor and Judge of Israel, have issued this my proclamation.'" + +A derisive laugh from a dwarfish figure in the crowd interrupted the +reading. "Father Noah come to life again!" It was the _Possemacher_, +or wedding-jester, who was not sparing of his wit, even when not +professionally engaged. + +"A foreigner--an American!" sneered a more serious voice. "Who made +him ruler in Israel?" + +"That's what the wicked Israelite asked Moses!" cried Peloni, +curiously excited. + +"_Nun, nun!_ Go on!" cried others. + +"'Announcing to the Jews throughout the world, that an asylum is +prepared and hereby offered to them, where they can enjoy that Peace, +Comfort, and Happiness which have been denied them through the +intolerance and misgovernment of former ages. An asylum in a free and +powerful country, where ample protection is secured to their persons, +their property, and religious rights; an asylum in a country +remarkable for its vast resources, the richness of its soil, and the +salubrity of its climate; where industry is encouraged, education +promoted, and good faith rewarded. "A land of Milk and Honey," where +Israel may repose in Peace, under his "Vine and Fig tree," and where +our People may so familiarize themselves with the science of +government and the lights of learning and civilization, as may qualify +them for that great and final Restoration to their ancient heritage, +which the times so powerfully indicate.'" + +The crowd had grown attentive. Peloni's face was pale as death. What +was this great thing, fallen so unexpectedly from the impassive heaven +his hopelessness had challenged? + +But the _Possemacher_ captured the moment. "Father Noah's drunk +again!" + +A great laugh shook the crowd. But Peloni dug his nails into his +palms. "Read on! Read on!" he cried hoarsely. + +"'The Place of Refuge is in the State of New York, the largest in the +American Union, and the spot to which I invite my beloved People from +the whole world is called Grand Island.'" + +Peloni drew a deep breath. His face had now changed to the other +extreme and was flushed with excitement. + +"Noah's Ark!" shot the _Possemacher_ dryly, and had his audience +swaying hysterically. + +"For God's sake, brethren!" cried Peloni. "This is no joke. Have you +forgotten already that here we are only animals?" + +"And they went in two by two," said the _Possemacher_, "the clean +beasts, and the unclean beasts!" + +"Hush, hush, let us hear!" from some of the crowd. + +"'Here I am resolved to lay the foundation of a State, named Ararat.'" + +"Ah! what did I say?" the exultant _Possemacher_ shrieked at Peloni. + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the crowd. "Noah's Ark resting on Ararat!" The +dullest saw that. + +Peloni was taken aback for a moment. + +"But why should not the place of Israel's Ark of Refuge be named +Ararat?" he asked of his neighbours. + +"If only his name wasn't Noah!" they answered. + +"That makes it even more appropriate," he murmured. + +But "Noah's Ark" was the nickname that kills. Though the reader +continued, it was only to an audience exhilarated by a sense of +Arabian Nights fantasy. But the elaborate description of the grandeurs +of this Grand Island, and the eloquent passages about the Century of +Right, and the ancient Oracles, restored Peloni's enthusiasm to fever +heat. + +"It is too long," said the reader, wearying at last. + +Peloni rushed forward and took up the task. The first sentence exalted +him still further. + +"'In God's name I revive, renew, and reëstablish the government of the +Jewish Nation, under the auspices and protection of the Constitution +and the Laws of the United States, confirming and perpetuating all our +Rights and Privileges, our Name, our Rank, and our Power among the +nations of the Earth, as they existed and were recognized under the +government of the Judges of Israel.'" Peloni's voice shook with +fervour. As he began the next sentence, "'It is my will,'" he +stretched out his hand with an involuntary regal gesture. The spirit +of Noah was entering into him, and he felt almost as if it was he who +was re-creating the Jewish nation--"'It is my will that a Census of +the Jews throughout the world be taken, that those who are well +treated and wish to remain in their respective countries shall aid +those who wish to go; that those who are in military service shall +until further orders remain true and loyal to their rulers. + +"'I command'"--Peloni read the words with expansive magnificence, his +poet's soul vibrating to that other royal dreamer's across the great +Atlantic--"'that a strict Neutrality be maintained in the pending war +betwixt Greece and Turkey. + +"'I abolish forever'"--Peloni's hand swept the air,--"'Polygamy among +the Jews.'" + +"But where have we polygamy?" interrupted the _Possemacher_. + +"'As it is still practised in Africa and Asia,'" read on Peloni +severely. + +"I'm off at once for Africa and Asia!" cried the marriage-jester, +pretending to run. "Good business for me there." + +"You'll find better business in America," said Peloni scathingly. "For +do not all our Austrian young men fly thither to marry, seeing that at +home only the eldest son may found a family? A pretty fatherland +indeed to be a citizen of--a step-fatherland. Listen, on the contrary, +to the noble tolerance of the Jew. 'Christians are freely invited.'" + +"Ah! Do you know who'll go?" broke in a narrow-faced zealot. "The +missionaries." + +Peloni continued hastily: "'Ararat is open, too, to the Caraites and +the Samaritans. The Black Jews of India and Africa shall be welcome; +our brethren in Cochin-China and the sect on the coast of Malabar; all +are welcome.'" + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed a burly Jew. "So we're to live with the blacks. +Enough of this joke!" + +But Peloni went on solemnly: "'A Capitation-tax on every Jew of Three +Silver Shekels per annum--'" + +"Ah, now we have got to it!" and a great roar broke from the crowd. +"Not a bad _Geschäft_, eh?" and they winked. "He is no fool, this +Noah." + +Peloni's blood boiled. "Do you believe everybody is like yourselves?" +he cried. "Listen!" + +"'I do appoint the first day of next Adar for a Thanksgiving Day to +the God of Israel, for His divine protection and the fulfilment of His +promises to the House of Israel. I recommend Peace and Union among +ourselves, Charity and Good-will to all, Toleration and Liberality +toward our Brethren of all Religions--'" + +"Didn't I say a missionary in disguise?" murmured the zealot. + +Peloni ended, with tremulous emotion: "'I humbly entreat to be +remembered in your prayers, and earnestly do I enjoin you to "keep the +charge of the Holy God," to walk in His ways, to keep His Statutes and +His commandments and His judgments and Testimonies, as written in the +Laws of Moses; "that thou mayest prosper in all thou doest and +whithersoever thou turnest thyself." + +"'Given under our hand and seal in the State of New York, on the 2d of +Ab 5586 in the Fiftieth Year of American Independence.'" + + * * * * * + +Peloni's efforts to organize a company of pilgrims to the New +Jerusalem brought him only heart-ache. The very rabbi who had +good-naturedly consented to circulate the fantastic foreigner's +invitation, tapped his forehead significantly: "A visionary! of good +intentions, doubtless, but still--a visionary. Besides, according to +our dogmas, God alone knows the epoch of the Israelitish restoration; +He alone will make it known to the whole universe, by signs entirely +unequivocal; and every attempt on our part to reassemble with any +political, national design, is forbidden as an act of high treason +against the Divine Majesty. Mr. Noah has doubtless forgotten that the +Israelites, faithful to the principles of their belief, are too much +attached to the countries where they dwell, and devoted to the +governments under which they enjoy liberty and protection, not to +treat as a mere jest the chimerical consulate of a pseudo-restorer." + +"Noah's a madman, and you're an infant," Peloni's friends told him. + +"Since the destruction of the Temple," he quoted in retort, "the gift +of prophecy has been confined to children and fools." + +"You are giving up a decent livelihood," they warned him. "You are +throwing it into the Atlantic." + +"'Cast thy bread upon the waters and it shall return to thee after +many days.'" + +"But in the meantime?" + +"'Man doth not live by bread alone.'" + +"As you please. But don't ask _us_ to throw up our comfortable home +here." + +"Comfortable home!" and Peloni grew almost apoplectic as he reminded +them of their miseries. + +"Persecution?" They shrugged their shoulders. "It comes only now and +again, like a snow-storm, and we crawl through it." + +"That's just it--the lack of manliness--the poisoned atmosphere!" + +"Bah! The _Goyim_ refuse us equal rights because they know we're their +superiors. Let us not jump from the frying-pan into the fire." + +So Peloni sailed for New York alone. + + +III + +He was rather disappointed to find no other pilgrim even on the ship. +True, there was one Jew, but the business Paradise of New York was his +goal across this waste of waters, and of Noah's Ark he had never +heard. Peloni's panegyric of Grand Island was rendered ineffective by +his own nebulous conception of its commercial possibilities. He passed +the slow days in the sailing-vessel polishing up his English, the +literature of which he had long studied. + +In New York Peloni's hopes revived. Major Noah--for it appeared he +was an officer of militia likewise--was in everybody's mouth. Editor +of the _National Advocate_, the leading organ of the Bucktails, or +Tammany party, a journalist whose clever sallies and humorous +paragraphs were widely enjoyed, an author of excellent "Travels," a +playwright of the first distinction, whose patriotic dramas were +always given on the Fourth of July, a critic regarded as Sir Oracle, a +politician, lawyer, and man of the world, a wit, the gay centre of +every gathering--surely in this lion of New York, who was also the +Lion of David, Israel had at last found a deliverer. They called him +madman down in Frankfort, did they? Well, let them come here and see. + +He wrote home to the scoffers of the _Judengasse_ all the information +about the great man that was in the very air of the American city, +though the man himself he had only as yet corresponded with. He told +the famous story of how when Noah was canvassing for the office of +High Sheriff of New York, it was urged that no Jew should be put into +an office where he might have to hang a Christian, to which Noah had +retorted wittily, "Pretty Christian, to have to be hanged!" "And you +all fancied 'Father Noah' would fall to pieces before the +_Possemacher's_ wit!" Peloni commented with vengeful satisfaction. "I +rejoice to say that Noah will never have anything to do with a +_Possemacher_, for he is President of the Old Bachelors' Club, the +members of which are pledged never to marry." He told of Noah's +adventurous career: of how when he was a mere boy clerk in the +auditor's office of his native Philadelphia, Congress had voted him a +hundred dollars for his precocious preparation of the actuary tables +for the eight-per-cent loan; of the three duels at Charleston, in +which he had vindicated at once the courage of the Jew and the policy +of American resistance to Great Britain; of his consulate in Tunis, +his capture at sea by the British fleet during the war, his release on +parole that enabled him to travel about England; of his genius for +letters--a very David in Israel; of his generosity to hundreds of +strugglers; of his quixotic disdain of money; of his impoverishing +himself by paying two hundred thousand dollars of other people's debts +as the price of his impulsive shrieval action in throwing open the +doors of the Debtor's Jail when the yellow fever broke out within. +"Yes," wrote Peloni exultantly, "in New York they talk no more of +Shylock. And with all the temptations to Christian fellowship or Pagan +free-living, a pillar of the synagogue,--nay, Israel's one hope in all +the world!" + +It was a wonderful moment when Peloni, at last invited to call on the +Judge of Israel, palpitated on the threshold of his study and gazed +blinkingly at the great man enthroned before his writing-table amid +elegant vistas of books and paintings. What a noble poetic vision it +seemed to him: the broad brow, with the tumbled hair; the long, +delicate-featured face tapering to a narrow chin environed with +whiskers, but clean of beard or even of mustache, so that the mobile, +sensitive mouth was laid bare. Peloni's glance also took in a handsome +black coat, with a decoration on the lapel, a high-peaked collar, a +black puffy bow, a frilled shirt, and a very broad jewelled cuff over +a white, long-fingered hand, that held a tall quill with a great +breadth of feather. + +"Ah, come in," said the Governor of Israel, waving his quill. "You are +Peloni of Frankfort." + +"Come three thousand miles to kiss the hem of your garment." + +Noah permitted the attention. "I am obliged to you for your Hebrew +poem in honour of my project," he said urbanely. "I approve of +Hebrew--it is a link that binds us to our forefathers. I am myself +editing a translation of the Book of Jasher." + +"You will have found my verses a very poor expression of your divine +ideas." + +"You use a difficult Hebrew. But the general drift seemed to show you +had caught the greatness of my conception." + +"Ah, yes! I have lived in _Judengasse_, oppressed and derided." + +"But there is worse than oppression--there is inward stagnation of the +spiritual life. My idea came to me in Tunis, where the Jews are little +oppressed. You know President Madison appointed me consul of the +United States for the city and kingdom of Tunis, one of the most +respectable and interesting stations in the regencies of Barbary. I +had long desired to visit the country of Dido and Hannibal, to trace +the field of Zama, and seek out the ruins of Utica,--whose sites I +believe I have now successfully established,--but it was my main +design to investigate the condition of the Barbary Jews, of whom, you +will remember, we have no account later than Benjamin of Tudela's in +the thirteenth century. But do not stand--take a chair. Well, I found +our brethren--to the number of seven hundred thousand--controlling +everything in Barbary, farming the revenue, regulating the coinage, +keeping the Dey's jewels and almost his person,--in short, anything +but persecuted, though, of course, the majority were miserably poor. +They did not know I was a Jew--though Secretary Monroe recalled me +because I was, and it was Monroe's doctrine that Judaism would be an +obstacle to the discharge of my functions. Absurd! The Catholic priest +was allowed to sprinkle the Consulate with holy water: the barefooted +Franciscan received an alms, nor did I fail to acknowledge by a +donation the decorated branch sent on Palm Sunday by the Greek Bishop. +And as for the slaves, I assure you they were not backward in coming +to ask favours. The only people who never came to me were precisely +the Jews. I went about among them incognito, so to speak, like Haroun +Alraschid among his subjects; hence I was able to see all the evils +that will never be eliminated till Israel is again a nation." + +"Ah! your words are the words of wisdom. You touch the root of the +evil. It is what I have always told them." + +Noah rose to his feet, displaying a royal stature in harmony with his +broad shoulders. "Yes, I resolved it should be mine to elevate my +people, to make them hold up their heads worthily in this century of +freedom and enlightenment." + +"It is the Ark of the Convenant, as well as of the Deluge, which will +rest on Ararat!" + +"True--and like the first Noah, I may become the progenitor of a new +world. I have communications from the four corners of the earth. You +are the type of thousands who will flee from the rotting tyrannies of +Europe into the great free republic which I shall direct." + +He began to pace the room. Peloni had visions of great black lines of +pilgrims converging from every quarter of the compass. + +"But this Grand Island--is it yours?" he inquired timidly. + +"I have bought thousands of acres of it--I and a few others who +believe in the great future of our people." + +"Jews?" + +"No, not Jews--capitalists who know that we shall become the +commercial centre of the new world,--that is, of the world of the +future." + +Peloni groaned. "And Jews will not believe? We must go to the +Gentiles. Jews will only put their money into Gentile schemes; will +build always for others, never for themselves. It is the same +everywhere. Alas for Israel!" + +"It is what I preach. Why administer Barbary for a savage Dey when you +can administer Grand Island for yourself? Seven hundred thousand Jews +in savage Barbary, and throughout these vast free States not seven +thousand. Ah, but they will come; they will come. Ararat will gather +its millions." + +"But will there be room?" + +"The State of New York," replied Noah, impressively, "is the largest +in the Union, containing forty-three thousand two hundred and fourteen +square miles divided into fifty-five counties and having six thousand +and eighty-seven post-towns and cities together with six million acres +of cultivated land. The constitution is founded on equality of rights. +We recognize no religious differences. In our seven thousand free +schools and gymnasia, four hundred thousand children of every religion +are being educated. Here in this great and progressive State the long +wandering of my beloved people shall end." + +"But Grand Island itself?" murmured Peloni feebly. + +"Come here," and Noah unrolled a great map. "See, how nobly it is +situated in the Niagara River, near the world-famed Falls, which will +supply water-power for our machinery. It is twelve miles long and from +three to seven broad, and contains seventeen thousand acres. Lake Erie +is two hundred and seventy miles long and borders New York, +Pennsylvania, and Ohio, as well as Canada. And see! by navigable +streams this great lake is connected with all that wonderful chain of +lakes. By short canals we shall connect with the Illinois and +Mississippi, and trade with New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico. +Through the Ontario--see here!--we traffic with Quebec, Montreal, and +touch the great Atlantic. The Niagara Falls, as I said, turn our +machinery. The fur trade, the lumber trade, all is ours. Our cattle +multiply, our lands wave with harvests. We are the centre of the +world, the capital of the future. And look! See what the _Albany +Gazette_ says: 'Here the Hebrews can have their Jerusalem without +fearing the legions of Titus. Here they can erect their Temple without +dreading the torches of frenzied soldiers. Here they can lay their +heads on their pillows at night without fear of mobs, of bigotry and +persecution.'" + +Peloni drew a long breath, enraptured by this holy El Dorado, +sparkling on the map, amid its tributary lakes and rivers. + +"You will see the eighteenth chapter of Isaiah fulfilled," Noah went +on. "For what is the 'land shadowing with wings, which is beyond the +rivers of Ethiopia,' which shall send messengers to a nation scattered +and peeled? What but America, shadowing us with the wings of its +eagle? As it is written elsewhere, 'I will bear thee on eagle's +wings.' It is true the English Bible translates 'Woe to the land,' but +this is a mistranslation. It should be 'Hail to the land!' Also the +word '_goumey_' they translate 'bulrushes'--'that sendeth messengers +in vessels of bulrushes!' But does not '_goumey_' also mean 'rush, +impetus?' And is it not therefore a prophecy of those new +steam-vessels that are beginning to creep up, one of which has just +crossed from England to India? Erelong they will be running between +America and all the world. It is the Lord making ready for the easy +ingathering of His people. Ay, and along these lakes"--the Prophet's +finger swept the map--"will be heard the panting of mighty +steam-monsters, all making for Ararat. By the way, Ararat lies here," +and he indicated a spot of the island opposite Tonawanda on the +mainland. + +Peloni bent down and poetically pressed his lips to the spot, like +Jehuda Halevi kissing the holy soil. + +"There is no one in possession there?" he inquired anxiously. + +"Maybe a few Iroquois Indians," said Noah. "But they will not have to +be turned out like the Hittites and Amorites and Jebusites by our +ancestors." + +"No?" murmured Peloni. + +"Of course not. They are our own brothers, carried away by the King of +Assyria. There can be not the slightest doubt that the Red Indians are +the Lost Ten Tribes of Israel." + +"What?" cried Peloni, vastly excited. + +"I shall publish a book on the subject. Yes, in worship, dialect, +language, sacrifices, marriages, divorces, burials, fastings, +purifications, punishments, cities of refuge, divisions of tribes, +High-Priests, wars, triumphs--'tis our very tradition." + +"Then I suppose one could lodge with them. I am anxious to settle in +Ararat at once." + +"You can scarcely settle there till the forest is cleared," said the +great man, arching his eyebrows. + +"The forest!" repeated Peloni, taken aback. + +"Ah, you are dismayed. You are a European, accustomed to ready-made +cities. We Americans, we change continents while you wait, build up +Aladdin's palaces over-night. As soon as I can manage to go over the +ground I will plan out the city." + +"You haven't been there yet?" gasped Peloni. + +"Ah, my dear Peloni. When should I find time to travel all the way to +Buffalo,--a busy editor, lawyer, playwright, what not? True, the time +that other men give to domestic happiness the President of the Old +Bachelors' Club is able to give to his fellow-men. But the slow canal +voyage--" + +At this moment there was a knock at the door, and a servant inquired +if Major Noah could see his tailor. + +"Ah, a good augury!" cried the major. "Here is the tailor come to try +on my Robe of Governor and Judge of Israel." + +The man bore an elaborate robe of crimson silk trimmed with ermine, +which he arranged about Noah's portly person, making marks with pins +and chalk where it could be made to fit better. + +"Do you like it?" said Noah, puffing himself out regally. + +Peloni's uneasiness vanished. Doubt was impossible before these +magnificent realities. Ah! the Americans were wonderful. + +"I had to go through our annals," Noah explained, "to find which +period of our government we could revive. Kingship was opposed to the +sentiment of these States: in the epoch of the Judges I found my +ideal. Indeed, what is the President of the United States but a +_Shophet_, a Judge of Israel? Ah, you are looking at that painting of +me--I shall have to be done again in my new robes. That elegant +creature who hangs beside me is Miss Leesugg, the Hebe of English +actresses, as she appeared in my 'She would be a Soldier, or the +Plains of Chippewa.' There is a caricature of my uncle, Aaron J. +Phillips, as the Turkish Commander in my 'Grecian Captive.' Dear me, +shall I ever forget how he tumbled off that elephant! Ha! ha! ha! +That is Miss Johnson, in my 'Yusef Carmatti, or the Siege of Tripoli.' +The black and white is a fancy sketch of 'Marion, or the Hero of Lake +George,' a play I wrote for the reopening of the Park Theatre and to +celebrate the evacuation of New York by the British in 1783." + +"Ah, I was there, Major," said the tailor. "It was bully. But the +house was so full of generals and colonels you could hardly hear a +word." + +"Fortunately for me," laughed Noah. "Yes, I asked them to come in full +uniform for the _éclat_ of the occasion. Which reminds me--here is a +ticket for you." + +"For the play?" murmured Peloni, as he took it. + +Noah started and looked at him keenly. But his flush of anger faded +before Peloni's innocent eyes. "No, no," he explained; "for the +opening ceremony of the foundation of Ararat." + +Peloni's black eyes shone. + +"There will be a great crush and only ticket-holders can be admitted +into the church." + +"Into the church!" echoed Peloni, paling. + +"Yes," said the Judge of Israel impressively, as he stood before a +glass to adjust the graceful folds of his crimson robe. "Our +fellow-citizens in Buffalo have been good enough to lend us the +Episcopal Church for the ceremony." + +"What ceremony?" he faltered, as horrid images swept before him, and +he heard all the way from Frankfort the taunting cry of "Missionary!" + +"The laying of the foundation-stone of Ararat." + +"Laying the foundation-stone in a church!" Peloni was puzzled. + +"Ah," said the Major, misunderstanding him; "it seems strange to you, +nursed in the musty lap of Europe. But here in this land of freedom +and this century of enlightenment all men are brothers." + +"But surely the foundation-stone should be laid on Grand Island." + +"It would have been desirable. But so many will wish to be present at +this great celebration. Buffalo alone has some thirteen hundred +inhabitants. How should we get them across? There are scarcely any +boats to be had--and Ararat is twelve miles away. No, no, it is better +to hold our ceremony in Buffalo. It is, after all, only a symbolism. +The corner-stone is already being inscribed in Hebrew and English. +'Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God. Ararat, a City of Refuge for the +Jews, founded by Mordecai M. Noah in the month Tishri, corresponding +with September, 1825, in the fiftieth year of American Independence.'" + +The sonorous recitation by the _Shophet_ in his crimson and ermine +robe somewhat restored Peloni's equanimity. + +"But when will the actual city be begun?" he asked. + +The _Shophet_ waved his hand airily. "A matter of days." + +"But are you sure we can build there?" + +"Look at the map. Here is Grand Island--ours! Here is the site of +Ararat. It is all as plain as a pikestaff. And, talking of pikestaffs, +it would not be a bad idea to plant a staff on Ararat with the flag of +Israel." + +Peloni took fire: "Yes, yes, let me go and plant it. I'll journey +night and day." + +"You shall plant it," said the _Shophet_ graciously. "Yes, I'll have +the flag made at once. The property man at the Park Theatre will +attend to it for me. The Lion of Judah and seven stars." + +"It shall be waving on Grand Island before you open the celebration in +Buffalo." + +Peloni went out like a lion, his head in the seven stars. Could it be +possible that to him--Peloni--had fallen the privilege of proclaiming +the New Jerusalem! + + +IV + +After the bustle of New York, the scattered village of Buffalo was +restful but somewhat chilling to the Ghetto-bred poet, with his quick +brain, unaccustomed to the slow processes of nature. Buffalo--with its +muddy, unpaved streets, and great trees, up which squirrel and +chipmunk ran--was still half in and half out of mother earth; man's +artifice ruled in the high street with its stores and inns, some of +which were even of brick; but in the byways every now and then a +primitive log cabin broke the line of frame cottages, and in the +outskirts cows and pigs walked about unconcernedly. It was a reminder +of all that would have to be done in Ararat ere a Temple could shine, +like a lighthouse of righteousness to the tossing nations. But when +Peloni learned that it was only twelve years since the scarcely born +village had been burnt down by the British and Indians in the war, he +felt reëncouraged, warming himself at the flame, so to speak. And when +he found that the citizens were all agog about Ararat and the church +celebration--that it divided interest with the Erie Canal, the hanging +of the three Thayers, and the recent reception of General Lafayette at +the Eagle Tavern--his heart expanded in a new poem. + +It was indeed an auspicious moment for Noah's scheme. All eyes were +turned on the coming celebration of the opening of the great canal, to +be the terminus of which Buffalo had fought victoriously against Black +Rock. Golden visions of the future gleamed almost tangibly; and amid +the general magnificence Noah's ornate dream took on equal solidity. +Endless capital would be directed into the neighbourhood of +Buffalo--for Ararat was only twelve miles away. Besides, all the great +men of Buffalo--and there were many--had been honoured with elaborate +cards of invitation to the grand ceremony of the foundation-stone. A +few old Baptist farmers were surly about the threatened vast Jewish +immigration, but the majority proclaimed with righteous warmth that +the glorious American Constitution welcomed all creeds, and that there +was money in it. + +Peloni looked about for a Jew to guide him, but could find none. +Finally a Seneca Indian from the camp just below Buffalo undertook to +look for the spot. It was with a strange thrill that Peloni's eyes +rested for the first time on a red Indian. Was this indeed a long-lost +brother of his? He cried "Shalom Aleikhem" in Hebrew, but the Indian, +despite Noah's theories, did not seem to understand. Ultimately the +dialogue was carried on in the few words of broken English which the +Indian had picked up from the trappers, and in the gesture-language, +in which, with his genius for all languages, Peloni was soon at home. +And in truth he did find at heart some subtle sympathy with this +copper-coloured savage which was not called out by the busy citizens +of Buffalo. On a sunlit morning, bearing his flagstaff with the flag +wrapped round it, a blanket, and a little store of provisions for +camping out over-night, Peloni slipped into the birch canoe and the +Indian paddled off. For miles they glided in silence along the +sparkling Niagara, lone denizens of a lonely world. + +Suddenly Peloni thought of the _Judengasse_ of Frankfort, and for a +moment it seemed to him that he must be dreaming. What! a few short +months ago he was selling prayer-books and phylacteries in the shadow +of the old high-gabled houses, and now, in a virgin district of the +New World, in company with a half-naked red Indian, he was going to +plant the flag of Judah on an island forest and to found the New +Jerusalem. What would they say, his old friends, if they could see him +now? And he--the _Possemacher_--what winged jest would he let fly? A +perception of the monstrous fantasy of the thing stole on poor Peloni. +Was he, perhaps, dreaming after all? No, there was the Niagara River, +the village of Black Rock on his right hand, and on the other side of +the gorge the lively Fort Erie and the poplar-fringed Canadian shore, +and there too--on the map Noah had given him--Ararat lay waiting. + +The Indian paddled imperturbably, throwing back the sparkling water +with a soft, soothing sound. Peloni lapsed into more pleasurable +reflections. How beautiful was this great free place of sun and wind, +of water and forest, after the noisome Jew-street! He was not +dreaming, nor--thank God!--was Noah. Strange, indeed, that thus should +deliverance for Israel be wrought; yet what was Israel's history but a +series of miracles? And his--Peloni's--humble hand was to plant the +flag that had lain folded and inglorious these twenty centuries! + +They glided by a couple of little islands, duly marked on the map, and +then a great, wooded, dark purple mass rose to meet them with a band +of deep orange on the low coast-line. + +It was Grand Island. + +Peloni whispered a prayer. + +Obeying the map marked by Noah, the canoe glided round the island, +keeping to the American side. As they shot past a third little island, +a dull booming began to be audible. + +"What is that?" Peloni's face inquired. + +The Indian smiled. "Not go many miles farther," he indicated. "The +Rapids soon. Then--whizz! Then big jump! Niagara. Dead." + +Fortunately Ararat was due much sooner than Niagara. As they drew near +the fourth of the little islands, which lay betwixt Grand Island and +the mainland of the States, and saw the Tonawanda Creek emptying +itself into the river, Peloni signed to the Indian to land; for it was +here that Ararat was to arise. + +The landing was easy, the river here being shallow and the bank low. +The beauty of the spot, as it lay wild and fresh from God's hand in +the golden sunlight, moved Peloni to tears. The Indian, who seemed +curious as to his movements and willing to share his mid-day meal, +tied his canoe to a basswood tree and followed the standard-bearer. +There was a glorious medley of leafy life--elm, oak, maple, linden, +pine, wild cherry, wild plum--which Peloni could only rejoice in +without differentiating it by names; and as the oddly assorted couple +walked through the sun-dappled glades they startled a world of +scurrying animal life--snipe and plover and partridges and +singing-birds, squirrels and rabbits and even deer, that frisked and +fluttered unprescient of the New Jerusalem that menaced their +immemorial inheritance. The joy of city-building had begun at last to +dawn on Peloni, the immense pleasure to the human will of beginning +afresh, of shaking off the pressure of the ages, of inscribing free +ideas on the plastic universe. As he wandered at random in search of a +suitable spot on which to plant the flagstaff, the romance of this +great American world thrilled him, of this vast continent won acre by +acre from nature and the savage, covering itself with splendid cities; +a retrospective sympathy with the citizens of Buffalo and their coming +canal warmed his breast. + +Of a sudden he heard a screaming, and looking up he observed two +strange, huge birds upon a blasted pine. + +"Eagles," said the laconic Indian. + +"Eagles!" And Peloni's heart leaped with a remembrance of Noah's +words. "Here under their wings shall our flag be unfurled. And that +blasted tree is Israel, that shall flourish again." + +He dug the pole into the earth. A breeze caught the flag, and the +folds flew out, and the Lion of Judah and the seven stars flapped in +the face of an inattentive universe. Peloni intoned the Hebrew +benediction, closing his eyes in pious ecstasy. "Blessed art Thou, O +Lord our God, who hast kept us alive, and preserved us, and enabled us +to reach this day!" + +As he opened his eyes, he perceived in the distance high in air, +rising far above the Island, a great mist of shining spray, amid which +rainbows netted and tangled themselves in ineffable dream-like +loveliness. At the same instant his ear caught--over the boom of the +rapids--the first hint of another, a mightier, a more majestic roar. + +"Niagara," murmured the Indian. + +But Peloni's eyes were fixed on the celestial vision. + +"The _Shechinah_!" he whispered. "The divine presence that rested on +the Tabernacle, and on Solomon's Temple, and that has returned at +last--to Ararat." + + +V + +The booming of cannon from the Court House, and from the Terrace +facing the lake, saluted the bright September dawn and reminded the +citizens of Buffalo that the Messianic day was here. But they needed +no reminding. The great folk had laid out their best clothes; military +insignia and Masonic regalia had been furbished up. Troops guarded St. +Paul's Church and kept off the swarming crowd. + +The first act of the great historic drama--"Mordecai Manuel Noah; or, +The Redemption of Israel"--passed off triumphantly, to the music of +patriotic American airs. The procession, which marched at eleven from +the Lodge through the chief streets, did honour to this marshaller of +stage pageants. + + ORDER OF PROCESSION + + Grand Marshal, Col. Potter, on horseback. + Music. + Military. + Citizens. + Civil Officers. + State Officers in Uniform. + President and Trustees of the Corporation. + Tyler. + Stewards. + Entered Apprentices. + Fellow Crafts. + Master Masons. + Senior and Junior Deacons. + Secretary and Treasurer. + Senior and Junior Wardens. + Master of Lodges. + Past Masters. + Rev. Clergy. + Stewards, with corn, wine, and oil. + + | Principal Architect, | + Globe | with square, level, | Globe + | and plumb. | + Bible. + Square and Compass, borne by a Master Mason. + The Judge of Israel + In black, wearing the judicial robes of crimson silk, trimmed + with ermine, and a richly embossed golden + medal suspended from the neck. + A Master Mason. + Royal Arch Masons. + Knights Templars. + +At the church door there was a halt. The troops parted to right and +left, the pageant passed through into the crowded church, gay with the +summer dresses of the ladies, the band played the grand march from +"Judas Maccabĉus," the organ pealed out the "Jubilate." On the +communion-table lay the corner-stone of Ararat! + +The morning service was read by the Rev. Mr. Searle in full +canonicals; the choir sang "Before Jehovah's Awful Throne"; then came +a special prayer for Ararat, and passages from Jeremiah, Zephaniah, +and the Psalms, charged with divine promises and consolations for the +long suffering of Israel, idyllic pictures of the Messianic future, +symbolized by the silver cups with wine, corn, and oil, that lay on +the corner-stone. At last arose, with that crimson silk robe trimmed +with ermine thrown over his stately black attire, and with the richly +embossed golden medal hanging from his neck--the Master of the Show, +the Dramatist of the Real, the Humorist without a sense of Humour, the +Dreamer of the Ghetto and American Man of Action, the Governor and +Judge of Israel, the _Shophet_,--in brief, Mordecai Manuel Noah. He +delivered a great discourse on the history of Israel and its present +reorganization, which filled more than five columns of the newspapers, +and was heard with solemn attention by the crowded Christian audience. +Save a few Indians and his own secretary, not a single Jew was +present to hold in check the orator's oriental imagination. Then the +glittering procession filed back to the Lodge, and the brethren and +the military dined joyously at the Eagle Tavern, and Noah's wit and +humour returned for the after-dinner speech. He withdrew early in +order to write a full account of the proceedings for the _Buffalo +Patriot Extra_. + +A salvo of twenty-four guns rounded off the great day of Israel's +restoration. + + +VI + +Meantime Peloni on his island awaited the coming of its Ruler. He +heard faintly the cannonade that preceded and concluded the laying of +the foundation-stone in the chancel of the church, and he expected +Noah the next day at the latest. But the next day passed, and no Noah. +Peloni fed on the remains of his corn and drank from the river, but +though his Indian guide was gone and he was a prisoner, he had no fear +of starvation, because he saw the wigwams of another Indian encampment +across the river and occasionally a party of them would glide past in +a large canoe. Despite hunger, his sensations on this first day were +delicious. The poet in him responded rapturously to the appeal of all +this new life; to feel the brotherhood of wild creatures, to sleep +under the stars in the vast night, to watch the silent, passionate +beauty of the sunrise, ripening to the music of the birds. + +On the second day his eyes were gladdened by the oncoming of a boat +rowed by two whites. They proved to be a stone mason and his man, and +they bore provisions, a letter, and newspapers from Noah:-- + + "MY DEAR PELONI: + + "A hurried line to report a glorious success, thank Heaven! A + finer day and more general satisfaction has not been known on + any similar occasion. All the dignity and talent of the + neighbourhood for miles was present. I hear that a vast + concourse also assembled at Tonawanda, expecting that the + ceremonies would be at Grand Island, but that many of them came + up in carriages in time to hear my Inaugural Speech. You will + see that the newspapers, especially the _Buffalo Patriot Extra_, + have reported me fully, showing how they realize the importance + of this world-stirring episode in Israel's history. Their + comments, too, are for the most part highly sympathetic. Of + course the _New York Herald_ will sneer; but then Bennett was + once in my employ on the _Courier and Enquirer_. They tell me + that you duly set out to plant the flag of Judah, and I assume + it is now by God's grace waving over Ararat. Heaven bless you! + my heart is too full for words. I had hoped to find time to-day + to behold the sublime spectacle myself, but urgent legal + business calls me back to New York. But I am resolved to start + the city without delay, and the bearers of this have my plan for + a little monument of brick and wood with the simple + inscription--'Ararat founded by Mordecai Manuel Noah, + 1825'--from the summit of which the flag can wave. I leave you + to superintend the same, and take any measures you please to + promote the growth of the city and to receive, as my + representative, the inflowing immigrants from the Ghettos of the + world. I appoint you, moreover, Keeper of the Records. To you + shall be given to write the new Book of the Chronicles of + Israel. My friend Mr. Smith, one of the proprietors of the + island, will communicate with you on behalf of the Shareholders, + as occasion arises. Expect me shortly (perhaps with my bride, + for I am entering into holy wedlock with the most amiable and + beautiful of her sex) and meantime receive my blessing. + + "MORDECAI MANUEL NOAH, Judge of Israel, + "_pro_ A.B. SEIXAS, Secr. _pro tem._" + +While the little monument was building, and the men were coming to and +fro in boats, Peloni made friends with the Indians, the smoke-wreaths +of whose lodges hovered across the river, and he picked up a little of +their language. Also he explored his island, drawn by the crescendo +roar of Niagara. It was at Burnt Island Bay that he had his first, if +distant, view of the Falls themselves. The rapids, gurgling and +plunging with foam and swirl and eddy, quickened his blood, but the +cataracts disappointed him, after that rainbow glimpse of the upper +spray, and it was not till he got himself landed on the Canadian shore +and saw the monstrous rush of the vast tameless flood toward the great +leap that he felt the presence and the power that were to be with him +for the rest of his days. The bend of the Horse-Shoe was hidden by a +white spray mountain that rose above its topmost waters, as they +hurled themselves from green solidity to creamy mist. And as he +looked, lo! the enchanting rainbows twinkled again, and he had a sense +as of the smile of God, of the love of that awful, unfathomable Being, +eternally persistent, while the generations rise and fall like +vaporous spray. + +The tide was low and, drawn by an irresistible fascination, he +adventured down among the rocks near the foot of the Fall. But a +tingling storm of spray smote him half blind and wholly breathless, +and all he could see was a monstrous misty Brocken-spirit upreared and +in his ears were a thousand thunders. A wild elemental passion swelled +and lifted him. Yes, Force, Force, was the secret of things: the vast +primal energies that sent the stars shining and the seas roaring. +Force, Life, Strength, that was what Israel needed. It had grown +anĉmic, slouching along its airless _Judengassen_. Oh, to fight, to +fight, like the warriors who went out against the Greeks, who defended +the Holy City against the Romans. "For the Lord is a Man of War." And +he shouted the cry of David, "Blessed be the Lord, my Rock, who +teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight." But he stopped, +smitten by an ironic memory. This very blessing was uttered every +Sabbath twilight, in every Ghetto, by every bloodless worshipper, to a +melancholy despairing melody, in the lightless dusk of the synagogues. + +The monument was speedily erected and, being hollow, proved useful for +Peloni to sleep in, as the October nights grew chilly. And thus Peloni +lived, a latter-day Crusoe. He had now procured fishing-tackle, and +grew dexterous in luring black bass and perch and whitefish from the +river. Also he had found out what berries he might eat. Occasionally a +boat would sell him cornmeal from Buffalo, but his savings were +melting away and he preferred to forage for himself, relishing the +wild flavour of uncivilized living. He even wished it were possible to +eat the birds or the rabbits he could have killed: but as various +points of Jewish law forbade such diet, there was no use in buying a +musket or a bow and arrow. So his relations with the animal world +remained purely amicable. The robins and bluebirds and thrushes sang +for him. The woodpeckers tapped on his monument to wake him in the +morning. The blue jays screamed without wrath, and the partridges +drummed unmartially. The squirrels frolicked with him, and the rabbits +lost their shyness. One would have said these were the Lost Ten Tribes +he had found. + +Peloni had become, not the Keeper of the Records, but the Keeper of +Noah's Ark. + + +VII + +So winter came, and there was still nothing to record, save the +witchery of the muffled white world with its blue shadows and +fantastic ice friezes and stalactites. Great icicles glittered on the +rocks, showing all the hues beneath. Peloni, wrapped in his blanket, +crouched on his monument over a log that burnt in an improvised grate. +It was very lonely. He had heard from no one, neither from Noah, nor +Smith, nor any Jewish or even Indian pilgrim to the New Jerusalem, +and the stock of winter provisions had exhausted his little hoard of +coin. The old despair began to twine round him like some serpent of +ice. As he listened in such moods to the distant thunder of +Niagara--which waxed louder as the air grew heavier, till it quite +dominated the ever present rumble of the rapids--the sound took on +endless meanings to his feverish brain. Now it was no longer the voice +of the Eternal Being, it was the endless plaint of Israel beseeching +the deaf heaven, the roar of prayer from some measureless synagogue; +now it was the raucous voice of persecution, the dull bestial roar of +malicious multitudes; and again it was the voice of the whole earth, +groaning and travailing. And the horror of it was that it would not +stop. It dropped on his brain, this falling water, as on the +prisoner's in the mediĉval torture chamber. Could no one stop this +turning wheel of the world, jar it grindingly to a standstill? + +Spring wore slowly round again. The icicles melted, the friezes +dripped away, the fantastic mufflers slipped from the trees, and the +young buds peeped out and the young birds sang. The river flowed +uncurdled, the cataracts fell unclogged. + +In Peloni's breast alone the ice did not melt: no new sap stirred in +his veins. The very rainbows on the leaping mist were now only +reminders of the Biblical promise that the world would go on forever; +forever the wheel would turn, and Israel wander homeless. + +And at last one sunny day a boat arrived with a message from the +Master. Alas! even Noah had abandoned Ararat. "I am beginning to see," +he wrote, "that our only hope is Palestine. Zion alone has magnetism +for the Jew. The great war against Gog prophesied in Ezekiel will be +in Palestine. Gog is Russia, and the Russians are the descendants of +the joint colony of Meshech and Tubal and the little horn of Daniel. +Russia in an attempt to wrest India and Turkey from the English and +the Turks will make the Holy Land the theatre of a terrible conflict. +But yet in the end in Jerusalem shall we reërect Solomon's Temple. The +ports of the Mediterranean will be again open to the busy hum of +commerce; the fields will again bear the fruitful harvest, and +Christian and Jew will together, on Mount Zion, raise their voices in +praise of Him whose covenant with Abraham was to endure forever, in +whose seed all the nations of the earth are to be blessed. This is our +destiny." + +Peloni wandered automatically to the apex of the island at Burnt Ship +Bay, and stood gazing meaninglessly at the fragments of the sunken +ships. Before him raced the rapids, frenziedly anxious for the great +leap. Even so, he thought, had Noah and he dreamed Israel would haste +to Ararat. And Niagara maintained its mocking roar--its roar of +gigantic laughter. + +Reërect Solomon's Temple in Palestine! A ruined country to regenerate +a ruined people! A land belonging to the Turks, centre of the +fanaticisms of three religions and countless sects! A soil which even +to Noah was the destined theatre of world-shaking war! + +As he lifted his swimming eyes he saw to his astonishment that he was +no longer alone. A tall majestic figure stood gazing at him: a grave, +sorrowful Indian, feathered and tufted, habited only in buckskin +leggings, and girdled by a belt of wampum. A musket in his hand showed +he had been hunting, and a canoe Peloni now saw tethered to the bank +indicated he was going back to his lodge. Peloni knew from his talks +with the Tonawanda Indians opposite Ararat that this was Red Jacket, +the famous chief of the Iroquois, the ancient lords of the soil. +Peloni tendered the salute due to the royalty stamped on the man. Red +Jacket ceremoniously acknowledged the obeisance. Then they gazed +silently at each other, the puny, stooping scholar from the German +Ghetto, and the stalwart, kingly savage. + +"Tell me," said Red Jacket imperiously, "what nation are you that +build a monument but never a city like the other white men, nor even a +camp like my people?" + +"Great Chief," replied Peloni in his best Iroquois, "we are a people +that build for others." + +"I would ye would build for my people then. For these white men sweep +us back, farther, farther, till there is nothing but"--and he made an +eloquent gesture, implying the sweep into the river, into the jaws of +the hurrying rapids. "Yet, methinks, I heard of a plan of your +people--of a great pow-wow of your chiefs in a church, of a great city +to be born here." + +"It is dead before birth," said Peloni. + +"Strange," mused Red Jacket. "Scarce twenty summers ago Joseph Elliott +came here to plan out his city on a soil that was not his, and lo! +this Buffalo rises already mighty and menacing. To-morrow it will be +at my wigwam door--and we"--another gesture, hopeless, yet full of +regal dignity, rounded off the sentence. + +And in that instant it was borne in upon Peloni that they were indeed +brothers: the Jew who stood for the world that could not be born +again, and the Red Indian who stood for the world that must pass away. +Yes, they were both doomed. Israel had been too bent and broken by the +long dispersion and the long persecution: the spring was snapped; he +could not recover. He had been too long the pliant protégé of kings +and popes: he had prayed too many centuries in too many countries for +the simultaneous welfare of too many governments, to be capable of +realizing that government of his own for which he likewise prayed. +This pious patience--this rejection of the burden on to the shoulders +of Messiah and Miracle--was it more than the veil of unconscious +impotence? Ah, better sweep oneself away than endure the long +ignominy. And Niagara laughed on. + +"May I have the privilege of crossing in your canoe?" he asked. + +"You are not afraid?" said Red Jacket. "The rapids are dangerous +here." + +Afraid! Peloni's inward laughter seemed to himself to match Niagara's. + +When he got to the mainland, he made straight for the Fall. He was on +the American side, and he paused on the sward, on the very brink of +the tameless cataract, that had for immemorial ages been driving +itself backward by eating away its own rock. His fascinated eyes +watched the curious smooth, purring slide of the vast mass of green +water over the sharp edges, unending, unresting, the eternal +revolution of a maddening, imperturbable wheel. O that blind wheel, +turning, turning, while the generations waxed and waned, one +succeeding the other without haste or rest or possibility of pause: +creatures of meaningless majesty, shadows of shadows, dreaming of love +and justice, and fading into the kindred mist, while this solid green +cataract roared and raced through ĉons innumerable, stable as the +stars, thundering in majestic meaninglessness. And suddenly he threw +himself into its remorseless whirl and was sucked down into the +monstrous chaos of seething waters and whirled and hurled amid the +rocks, battered and shapeless, but still holding Noah's letter in his +convulsively clinched hand, while the rainbowed spray leapt +impassively heavenward. + +The corner-stone of Ararat lies in the rooms of the Buffalo Historical +Society, and no one who copies the inscription dreams that it is the +gravestone of Peloni. + +And while the very monument has mouldered away in Ararat, Buffalo sits +throned amid her waters, the Queen City of the Empire State, with the +world's commerce at her feet. And from their palaces of Medina +sandstone the Christian railroad kings go out to sail in their +luxurious yachts,--vessels not of bulrushes but driven by steam, as +predicted by Mordecai Manuel Noah, Governor and Judge of Israel. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +IV + +THE LAND OF PROMISE + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +IV + +THE LAND OF PROMISE + + +I + +"Telegraph how many pieces you have." + +In this wise did the Steamship Company convey to the astute agent its +desire to know how many Russian Jews he was smuggling out of the Pale +into the steerage of its Atlantic liner. + +The astute agent's task was simple enough. The tales he told of +America were only the clarification of a nebulous vision of the land +flowing with milk and honey that hovered golden-rayed before all these +hungry eyes. To the denizens of the Pale, in their cellars, in their +gutter-streets, in their semi-subterranean shops consisting mainly of +shutters and annihilating one another's profits; to the congested +populations newly reinforced by the driving back of thousands from +beyond the Pale, and yet multiplying still by an improvident reliance +on Providence; to the old people pauperized by the removal of the +vodka business to Christian hands, and the young people dammed back +from their natural outlets by Pan-Slavic ukases, and clogged with +whimsical edicts and rescripts--the astute agent's offer of getting +you through Germany, without even a Russian passport, by a simple +passage from Libau to New York, was peculiarly alluring. + +It was really almost an over-baiting of the hook on the part of the +too astute agent to whisper that he had had secret information of a +new thunderbolt about to be launched at the Pale; whereby the period +of service for Jewish conscripts would be extended to fifteen years, +and the area of service would be extended to Siberia. + +"Three hundred and seventy-seven pieces," ran his telegram in reply. +In a letter he suggested other business he might procure for the line. + +"Confine yourself to freight," the Company wrote cautiously, for even +under sealed envelopes you cannot be too careful. "The more the +better." + +Freight! The word was not inexact. Did not even the Government reports +describe these exploiters of the Muzhik as in some places packed in +their hovels like salt herrings in a barrel; as sleeping at night in +serried masses in sties which by day were tallow or leather factories? + +To be shipped as cargo came therefore natural enough. Nevertheless, +each of these "pieces," being human after all, had a history, and one +of these histories is here told. + + +II + +Nowhere was the poverty of the Pale bitterer than in the weavers' +colony, in which Srul betrothed himself to Biela. The dowries, which +had been wont to kindle so many young men's passions, had fallen to +freezing-point; and Biela, if she had no near prospect of marriage, +could console herself with the knowledge that she was romantically +loved. Even the attraction of _kest_--temporary maintenance of the +young couple by the father-in-law--was wanting in Biela's case, for +the simple reason that she had no father, both her parents having died +of the effort to get a living. For marriage-portion and _kest_, Biela +could only bring her dark beauty, and even that was perhaps less than +it seemed. For you scarcely ever saw Biela apart from her homely +quasi-mother, her elder sister Leah, who, like the original Leah, had +"tender eyes," which combined with a pock-marked face to ensure for +her premature recognition as an old maid. The inflamed eyelids were +the only legacy Leah's father had left her. + +From Srul's side, though his parents were living, came even fainter +hope of the wedding-canopy. Srul's father was blind--perhaps a further +evidence that the local hygienic conditions were nocuous to the eye in +particular--and Srul himself, who had occupied most of his time in +learning to weave Rabbinic webs, had only just turned his attention +to cloth, though Heaven was doubtless pleased with the gear of +_Gemara_ he had gathered in his short sixteen years. The old weaver +had--in more than one sense--seen better days before his affliction +and the great factories came on: days when the independent hand-weaver +might sit busily before the loom from the raw dawn to the black +midnight, taking his meals at the bench; days when, moreover, the +"piece" of satin-faced cloth was many ells shorter. "But they make up +for the extra length," he would say with pathetic humour, "by cutting +the pay shorter." + +The same sense of humour enabled him to bear up against the forced +rests that increasing slackness brought the hand-weavers, while the +factories whirred on. "Now is the proverb fulfilled," he cried to his +unsmiling wife, "for there are two Sabbaths a week." Alas! as the +winter grew older and colder, it became a week of Sabbaths. The wheels +stood still; in all the colony not a spool was reeled. It was +unprecedented. Gradually the factories had stolen the customers. Some +sat waiting dazedly for the raw yarns they knew could no longer come +at this season; others left the suburb in which the colony had drowsed +from time immemorial, and sought odd jobs in the town, in the frowning +shadows of the factories. But none would enter the factories +themselves, though these were ready to suck them in on one sole +condition. + +Ah! here was the irony of the tragedy. The one condition was the one +condition the poor weavers could not accept. It was open to them to +reduce the week of Sabbaths to its ancient and diurnal dimensions, +provided the Sabbath itself came on Sunday. Nay, even the working-day +offered them was less, and the wage was more than their own. The +deeper irony within this irony was that the proprietor of every one of +these factories was a brother in Israel! Jeshurun grown fat and +kicking. + +Even the old blind man's composure deserted him when it began to be +borne in on his darkness that the younger weavers meditated surrender. +The latent explosives generated through the years by their perusal of +un-Jewish books in insidious "Yiddish" versions, now bade fair to be +touched to eruption by this paraded prosperity of wickedness; +wickedness that had even discarded the caftan and shaved the corners +of its beard. + +"But thou, apple of my eye," the old man said to Srul, "thou wilt die +rather than break the Sabbath?" + +"Father," quoted the youth, with a shuddering emotion at the bare +idea, "I have been young and now I am old, but never have I seen the +righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging for bread." + +"My son! A true spark of the Patriarchs!" And the old man clasped the +boy to his arms and kissed him on the pious cheeks down which the +ear-locks dangled. + +"But if Biela should tempt thee, so that thou couldst have the +wherewithal to marry her," put in his mother, who could not keep her +thoughts off grandchildren. + +"Not for apples of gold, mother, will I enter the service of these +serpents." + +"Nevertheless, Biela is fair to see, and thou art getting on in +years," murmured the mother. + +"Leah would not give Biela to a Sabbath-breaker," said the old man +reassuringly. + +"Yes, but suppose she gives her to a bread-winner," persisted the +mother. "Do not forget that Biela is already fifteen, only a year +younger than thyself." + +But Leah kept firm to the troth she had plighted on behalf of Biela, +even though the young man's family sank lower and lower, till it was +at last reduced from the little suburban wooden cottage, with the +spacious courtyard, to one corner of a large town-cellar, whose +population became amphibious when the Vistula overflowed. + +And Srul kept firm to the troth Israel had plighted with the +Sabbath-bride, even when his father's heart no longer beat, so could +not be broken. The old man remained to the last the most cheerful +denizen of the cellar: perhaps because he was spared the vision of his +emaciated fellow-troglodytes. He called the cellar "Arba Kanfôs," +after the four-cornered garment of fringes which he wore: and +sometimes he said these were the "Four Corners" from which, according +to the Prophets, God would gather Israel. + + +III + +In such a state of things an agent scarcely needed to be astute. +"Pieces" were to be had for the picking up. The only trouble was that +they were not gold pieces. The idle weavers could not defray the +passage-money, still less the agent's commission for smuggling them +through. + +"If I only had a few hundred roubles," Srul lamented to Leah, "I could +get to a land where there is work without breaking the Sabbath, a land +to which Biela could follow me when I waxed in substance." + +Leah supported her household of three--for there was a younger sister, +Tsirrélé, who, being only nine, did not count except at meal-times--on +the price of her piece-work at the Christian umbrella factory, where, +by a considerate Russian law, she could work on Sunday, though the +Christians might not. Thus she earned, by literal sweating in a torrid +atmosphere, three roubles, all except a varying number of kopecks, +every week. And when you live largely on black bread and coffee, you +may, in the course of years, save a good deal, even if you have three +mouths. Therefore, Leah had the sum that Srul mentioned so wistfully, +put by for a rainy day (when there should be no umbrellas to make). +And as the sum had kept increasing, the notion that it might form the +nucleus of an establishment for Biela and Srul had grown clearer and +clearer in her mind, which it tickled delightfully. But the idea that +now came to her of staking all on a possible future was agitating. + +"We might, perhaps, be able to get together the money," she said +tentatively. "But--" She shook her head, and the Russian proverb came +to her lips. "Before the sun rises the dew may destroy you." + +Srul plunged into an eager recapitulation of the agent's assurances. +And before the eyes of both the marriage-canopy reared itself splendid +in the Land of Promise, and the figure of Biela flitted, crowned with +the bridal wreath. + +"But what will become of your mother?" Leah asked. + +Srul's soap-bubbles collapsed. He had forgotten for the moment that he +had a mother. + +"She might come to live with us," Leah hastened to suggest, seeing his +o'erclouded face. + +"Ah, no, that would be too much of a burden. And Tsirrélé, too, is +growing up." + +"Tsirrélé eats quite as much now as she will in ten years' time," said +Leah, laughing, as she thought fondly of her dear, beautiful little +one, her gay whimsies and odd caprices. + +"And my mother does not eat very much," said Srul, wavering. + +In this way Srul became a "piece," and was dumped down in the Land of +Promise. + + +IV + +To the four females left behind--odd fragments of two families thrown +into an odder one--the movements of the particular piece, Srul, were +the chief interest of existence. The life in the three-roomed wooden +cottage soon fell into a routine, Leah going daily to the tropical +factory, Biela doing the housework and dreaming of her lover, little +Tsirrélé frisking about and chattering like the squirrel she was, and +Srul's mother dozing and criticising and yearning for her lost son and +her unborn grandchildren. By the time Srul's first letter, with its +exciting pictorial stamp, arrived from the Land of Promise, the +household seemed to have been established on this basis from time +immemorial. + +"I had a lucky escape, God be thanked," Srul wrote. "For when I arrived +in New York I had only fifty-one roubles in my pocket. Now it seems +that these rich Americans are so afraid of being overloaded with +paupers that they will not let you in, if you have less than fifty +dollars, unless you can prove you are sure to prosper. And a dollar, my +dear Biela, is a good deal more than a rouble. However, blessed be the +Highest One, I learned of this ukase just the day before we arrived, +and was able to borrow the difference from a fellow-passenger, who lent +me the money to show the Commissioners. Of course, I had to give it +back as soon as I was passed, and as I had to pay him five roubles for +the use of it, I set foot on the soil of freedom with only forty-six. +However, it was well worth it; for just think, beloved Biela, if I had +been shipped back and all that money wasted! The interpreter also said +to me, 'I suppose you have got some work to do here?' 'I wish I had,' I +said. No sooner had the truth slipped out than my heart seemed turned +to ice, for I feared they would reject me after all as a poor wretch +out of work. But quite the contrary; it seemed this was only a trap, a +snare of the fowler. Poor Caminski fell into it--you remember the +red-haired weaver who sold his looms to the Maggid's brother-in-law. He +said he had agreed to take a place in a glove factory. It is true, you +know, that some Polish Jews have made a glove town in the north, so the +poor man thought that would sound plausible. Hence you may expect to +see Caminski's red hair back again, unless he takes ship again from +Libau and tells the truth at the second attempt. I left him howling in +a wooden pen, and declaring he would kill himself rather than face his +friends at home with the brand on his head of not being good enough for +America. He did not understand that contract-labourers are not let in. +Protection is the word they call it. Hence, I thank God that my +father--his memory for a blessing!--taught me to make Truth the law of +my mouth, as it is written. Verily was the word of the Talmud (Tractate +Sabbath) fulfilled at the landing-stage: 'Falsehood cannot stay, but +truth remains forever.' With God's help, I shall remain here all my +life, for it is a land overflowing with milk and honey. I had almost +forgotten to tell my dove that the voyage was hard and bitter as the +Egyptian bondage; not because of the ocean, over which I passed as +easily as our forefathers over the Red Sea, but by reason of the +harshness of the overseers, who regarded not our complaints that the +meat was not _kosher_, as promised by the agent. Also the butter and +meat plates were mixed up. I and many with me lived on dry bread, nor +could we always get hot water to make coffee. When my Biela comes +across the great waters--God send her soon--she must take with her salt +meat of her own." + +From the first, Srul courageously assumed that the meat would soon +have to be packed; nay, that Leah might almost set about salting it at +once. Even the slow beginnings of his profits as a peddler did not +daunt him. "A great country," he wrote on paper stamped with the Stars +and Stripes, with an eagle screaming on the envelope. "No special +taxes for the Jews, permission to travel where you please, the schools +open freely to our children, no passports and papers at every step, +above all, no conscription. No wonder the people call it God's own +country. Truly, as it is written, this is none other but the House of +God, this is the Gate of Heaven. And when Biela comes, it will be +Heaven." Letters like this enlarged the little cottage as with an +American room, brightened it as with a fresh wash of blue paint. +Despite the dreary grind of the week, Sabbaths and festivals found the +household joyous enough. The wedding-canopy of Srul and Biela was a +beacon of light for all four, which made life livable as they +struggled toward it. Nevertheless, it came but slowly to meet them: +nearly three years oozed by before Srul began to lift his eye toward a +store. The hereditary weaver of business combinations had emerged +tardily from beneath the logic-weaver and the cloth-weaver, but of +late he had been finding himself. "If I could only get together five +hundred dollars clear," he wrote to Leah. "For that is all I should +have to pay down for a ladies' store near Broadway, and just at the +foot of the stairs of the Elevated Railway. What a pity I have only +four hundred and thirty-five dollars! Stock and goodwill, and only +five hundred dollars cash! The other five hundred could stand over at +five per cent. If I were once in the store I could gradually get some +of the rooms above (there is already a parlour, in which I shall +sleep), and then, as soon as I was making a regular profit, I could +send Biela and mother their passage-money, and my wife could help 'the +boss' behind the counter." + +To hasten the rosy day Leah sent thirty-five roubles, and presently, +sure enough, Srul was in possession, and a photograph of the store +itself came over to gladden their weary eyes and dilate those of the +neighbours. The photograph of Srul, which had come eighteen months +before, was not so suited for display, since his peaked cap and his +caftan had been replaced by a jacket and a bowler, and, but for the +ear-locks which were still in the picture, he would have looked like a +factory-owner. In return, Srul received a photograph of the +four--taken together, for economy's sake--Leah with her arm around +Biela's waist, and Tsirrélé sitting in his mother's lap. + + +V + +But a long, wearying struggle was still before the new "boss," and two +years crept along, with their turns of luck and ill-luck, of bargains +and bad debts, ere the visionary marriage-canopy (that seemed to span +the Atlantic) began to stand solidly on American soil. The third year +was not half over ere Srul actually sent the money for Biela's +passage, together with a handsome "waist" from his stock, for her to +wear. But Biela was too timid to embark alone without Srul's mother, +whose fare Srul could not yet manage to withdraw from his capital. +Leah, of course, offered to advance it, but Biela refused this +vehemently, because a new hope had begun to spring up in her breast. +Why should she be parted from her family at all? Since her marriage +had been delayed these five and a half years, a few months more or +less could make no difference. Let Leah's savings, then, be for Leah's +passage (and Tsirrélé's) and to give her a start in the New World. "It +rains, even in America, and there are umbrella factories there, too," +she urged. "You will make twice the living. Look at Srul!" + +And there was a new fear, too, which haunted Biela's aching heart, but +which she dared not express to Leah. Leah's eyes were getting worse. +The temperature of the factory was a daily hurt, and then, too, she +had read so many vilely printed Yiddish books and papers by the light +of the tallow candle. What if she were going blind? What if, while +she, Biela, was happy with Srul, Leah should be starving with +Tsirrélé? No, they must all remain together: and she clung to her +sister, with tears. + +To Leah the prospect of witnessing her sister's happiness was so +seductive that she tried to take the lowest estimate of her own +chances of finding work in New York. Her savings, almost eaten up by +the journey, could not last long, and it would be terrible to have to +come upon Srul for help, a man with a wife and (if God were good) +children, to say nothing of his old mother. No, she could not risk +Tsirrélé's bread. + +But the increased trouble with her eyes turned her in favour of going, +though, curiously enough, for a side reason quite unlike Biela's. +Leah, too, was afraid of a serious breakdown, though she would not +hint her fears to any one else. From her miscellaneous Yiddish reading +she had gathered that miraculous eye-doctors lived in Königsberg. Now +a journey to Germany was not to be thought of; if she went to America, +however, it could be taken en route. It would be a sort of saving, and +few things appealed to Leah as much as economy. This was why, some +four months later, the ancient furniture of the blue-washed cottage +was sold off, and the quartette set their faces for America by way of +Germany. The farewell to the home of their youth took place in the +cemetery among the high-shouldered Hebrew-speaking stones. Leah and +Biela passionately invoked the spirits of their dead parents and bade +them watch over their children. The old woman scribbled Srul and +Biela's interlinked names over the flat tomb of a holy scholar. "Take +their names up to the Highest One," she pleaded. "Entreat that their +quiver be full, for the sake of thy righteousness." + +More dead than alive, the four "pieces" with their bundles arrived at +Hamburg. Days and nights of travelling, packed like "freight" in hard, +dirty wooden carriages, the endless worry of passports, tickets, +questions, hygienic inspections and processes, the illegal exactions +of petty officials, the strange phantasmagoria of places and +faces--all this had left them dazed. Only two things kept up their +spirits--the image of Srul waiting on the Transatlantic wharf in +hymeneal attire, and the "pooh-pooh" of the miraculous Königsberg +doctor, reassuring Leah as to her eyes. There was nothing radically +the matter. Even the inflamed eyelids--though incurable, because +hereditary--would improve with care. Peasant-like, Leah craved a +lotion. "The sea voyage and the rest will do you more good than my +medicines. And don't read so much." Not a groschen did Leah have to +pay for the great specialist's services. It was the first time in her +hard life anybody had done anything for her for nothing, and her +involuntary weeping over this phenomenon tended to hurt the very +eyelids under attention. They were still further taxed by the kindness +of the Jewish committee at Hamburg, on the look-out to smooth the path +of poor emigrants and overcome their dietary difficulties. But it was +a crowded ship, and our party reverted again to "freight." With some +of the other females, they were accommodated in hammocks swung over +the very dining-tables, so that they must needs rise at dawn and be +cleared away before breakfast. The hot, oily whiff of the +cooking-engines came through the rocking doorway. Of the quartette, +only Tsirrélé escaped sea-sickness, but "baby" was too accustomed to +be petted and nursed to be able suddenly to pet and nurse, and she +would spend hours on the slip of lower deck, peering into the fairy +saloons which were vivified by bugle instead of bell, and in which +beautiful people ate dishes fit for the saints in Heaven. By an effort +of will, Leah soon returned to her rôle of factotum, but the old +woman and Biela remained limp to the end. Fortunately, there was only +one day of heavy rolling and battened-down hatches. For the bulk of +the voyage the great vessel brushed the pack of waves disdainfully +aside. And one wonderful day, amid unspeakable joy, New York arrived, +preceded by a tug and by a boat that conveyed inquiring officials. The +great statue of Liberty, on Bedloe's Island, upheld its torch to light +the new-comers' path. Srul--there he is on the wharf, dear old +Srul!--God bless him! despite his close-cropped hair and his shaven +ear-locks. Ah! Heaven be praised! Don't you see him waving? Ah, but +we, too, must be content with waving. For here only the _tschinovniks_ +of the gilded saloon may land. The "freight" must be packed later into +rigid gangs, according to the ship's manifest, transferred to a +smaller steamer and discharged on Ellis Island, a little beyond +Bedloe's. + + +VI + +And at Ellis Island a terrible thing happened, unforeseen--a shipwreck +in the very harbour. + +As the "freight" filed slowly along the corridor-cages in the great +bare hall, like cattle inspected at ports by the veterinary surgeon, +it came into the doctor's head that Leah's eye-trouble was infectious. +"Granular lids--contagious," he diagnosed it on paper. And this +diagnosis was a flaming sword that turned every way, guarding against +Leah the Land of Promise. + +"But it is not infectious," she protested in her best German. "It is +only in the family." + +"So I perceive," dryly replied America's Guardian Angel, who was now +examining the obvious sister clinging to Leah's skirts. And in Biela, +heavy-eyed with sickness and want of sleep, his suspicious vision +easily discovered a reddish rim of eyelid that lent itself to the same +fatal diagnosis, and sent her to join Leah in the dock of the +rejected. The fresh-faced Tsirrélé and the wizen-faced mother of Srul +passed unscrutinized, and even the dread clerk at the desk who asked +questions was content with their oath that the wealthy Srul would +support them. Srul was, indeed, sent for at once, as Tsirrélé was too +pretty to be let out under the mere protection of a Polish crone. + +When the full truth that neither she nor Biela was to set foot in New +York burst through the daze in Leah's brain, her protest grew frantic. + +"But my sister has nothing the matter with her--nothing. O _gnädiger +Herr_, have pity. The Königsberg doctor--the great doctor--told me I +had no disease, no disease at all. And even if I have, my sister's +eyes are pure as the sunshine. Look, _mein Herr_, look again. See," +and she held up Biela's eyelids and passionately kissed the wet +bewildered eyes. "She is to be married, my lamb--her bridegroom +awaits her on the wharf. Send _me_ back, _gnädiger Herr_; I ought not +to have come. But for God's sake, don't keep Biela out, don't." She +wrung her hands. But the marriage card had been played too often in +that hall of despairing dodges. "Oh, _Herr Doktor_," and she kissed +the coat-tail of the ship's doctor, "plead for us; speak a word for +her." + +The ship's doctor spoke a word on his own behalf. It was he who had +endorsed the two girls' health-certificates at Hamburg, and he would +be blamed by the Steamship Company, which would have to ship the +sisters back free, and even defray their expenses while in quarantine +at the dépôt. He ridiculed the idea that the girls were suffering from +anything contagious. But the native doctor frowned, immovable. + +Leah grew hysteric. It was the first time in her life she had lost her +sane standpoint. "Your own eye is affected," she shrieked, her dark +pock-marked face almost black with desperate anger, "if you cannot see +that it is only because my sister has been weeping, because she is ill +from the voyage. But she carries no infection--she is healthy as an +ox, and her eye is the eye of an eagle!" She was ordered to be silent, +but she shrieked angrily, "The German doctors know, but the Americans +have no _Bildung_." + +"Oh, don't, Leah," moaned Biela, throwing her arms round the panting +breast. "What's the use?" But the irrepressible Leah got an S.I. +ticket of Special Inquiry, forced a hearing in the Commissioners' +Court. + +"Let her in, kind gentlemen, and send back the other one. Tsirrélé +will go back with me. It does not matter about the little one." + +The kind gentlemen on the bench were really kind, but America must be +protected. + +"You can take the young one and the old one both back with you," the +interpreter told her. "But they are the only ones we can let in." + +Leah and Biela were driven back among the damned. The favoured twain +stood helplessly in their happier compartment. Even Tsirrélé, the +squirrel, was dazed. Presently the spruce Srul arrived--to find the +expected raptures replaced by funereal misery. He wormed his way +dizzily into the cage of the rejected. It was not the etiquette of the +Pale to kiss one's betrothed bride, but Srul stared dully at Biela +without even touching her hand, as if the Atlantic already rolled +again between them. Here was a pretty climax to the dreams of years! + +"My poor Srul, we must go back to Hamburg to be married," faltered +Biela. + +"And give up my store?" Srul wailed. "Here the dollar spins round. We +have now what one names a boom. There is no land on earth like ours." + +The forlornness of the others stung Leah to her senses. + +"Listen, Srul," she said hurriedly. "It is all my fault, because I +wanted to share in the happiness. I ought not to have come. If we had +not been together they never would have suspected Biela's eyes--who +would notice the little touch of inflammation which is the most she +has ever suffered from? She shall come again in another ship, all +alone--for she knows now how to travel. Is it not so, Biela, my lamb? +I will see you on board, and Srul will meet you here, although not +till you have passed the doctor, so that no one will have a chance of +remembering you. It will cost a heap, alas! but I can get some work in +Hamburg, and the Jews there have hearts of gold. Eh, Biela, my poor +lamb?" + +"Yes, yes, Leah, you can always give yourself a counsel," and Biela +put her wet face to her sister's, and kissed the pock-marked cheek. + +Srul acquiesced eagerly. No one remembered for the moment that Leah +would be left alone in the Old World. The problem of effecting the +bride's entry blocked all the horizon. + +"Yes, yes," said Srul. "The mother will look after Tsirrélé, and in +less than three weeks Biela will slip in." + +"No, three weeks is too soon," said Leah. "We must wait a little +longer till the doctor forgets." + +"Oh, but I have already waited so long!" whimpered Srul. + +Leah's eyes filled with sympathetic tears. "I ought not to have made +so much fuss. Now she will stick in the doctor's mind. Forgive me, +dear Srul, I will do my best and try to make amends." + +Leah and Biela were taken away to the hospital, where they remained +isolated from the world till the steamer sailed back to Hamburg. +Herein, generously lodged, they had ample leisure to review the +situation. Biela discovered that the new plan would leave Leah +deserted, Leah remembered that she would be deserting little Tsirrélé. +Both were agreed that Tsirrélé must go back with them, till they +bethought themselves that her passage would have to be paid for, as +she was not refused. And every kopeck was precious now. "Let the child +stay till I get back," said Biela. "Then I will send her to you." + +"Yes, it is best to let her stay awhile. I myself may be able to join +you after all. I will go back to Königsberg, and the great doctor will +write me out a certificate that my affliction is not contagious." + +At the very worst--if even Biela could not get in--Srul should sell +his store and come back to the Old World. It would put off the +marriage again. But they had waited so long. "So let us cheer up after +all, and thank the Lord for His mercies. We might all have been +drowned on the voyage." + +Thus the sisters' pious conclusion. + +But though Srul and his mother and Tsirrélé got on board to see them +off, and Tsirrélé gave graphic accounts of the wonders of the store +and the rooms prepared for the bride, to say nothing of the great +city itself, and Srul brought Biela and Leah splendid specimens of his +stock for their adornment, yet it was a horrible thing for them to go +back again without having once trodden the sidewalks of the Land of +Promise. And when the others were tolled off, as by a funeral bell, +and became specks in a swaying crowd; when the dock receded and the +cheers and good-byes faded, and the waving handkerchiefs became a +blur, and the Statue of Liberty dwindled, and the lone waste of waters +faced them once more, Leah's optimism gave way, a chill sinister +shadow fell across her new plan, some ominous intuition traversed her +like a shudder, and she turned away lest Biela should see her tears. + + +VII + +This despair did not last long. It was not in Leah's nature to +despair. But her wildest hopes were exceeded when she set foot again +in Hamburg and explained her hard case to the good committee, and a +member gave her an informal hint which was like a flash of light from +Heaven--its answer to her ceaseless prayer. Ellis Island was not the +only way of approaching the Land of Promise. You could go round about +through Canada, where they were not so particular, and you could slip +in by rail from Montreal without attracting much attention. True, +there was the extra expense. + +Expense! Leah would have gladly parted with her last rouble to unite +Biela with her bridegroom. There must be no delay. A steamer for +Canada was waiting to sail. What a fool she had been not to think that +out for herself! Yes, but there was Biela's timidity again to +consider. Travel by herself through this unknown Canada! And then if +they were not so particular, why could not Leah slip through likewise? + +"Yes, but my eyes are more noticeable. I might again do you an +injury." + +"We will separate at the landing-stage and the frontier. We will +pretend to be strangers." Biela's wits were sharpened by the crisis. + +"Well, I can only lose the passage-money," said Leah, and resolved to +take the risk. She wrote a letter to Srul explaining the daring +invasion of New York overland which they were to attempt, and was +about to post it, when Biela said:-- + +"Poor Srul! And if I shall not get in after all!" Leah's face fell. + +"True," she pondered. "He will have a more heart-breaking +disappointment than before." + +"Let us not kindle their hopes. After all, if we get in, we shall only +be a few days later than our letter. And then think of the joy of the +surprise." + +"You are right, Biela," and Leah's face glowed again with the +anticipated joy of the surprise. + +The journey to Canada was longer than to the States, and the +"freight" was less companionable. There were fewer Jews and women, +more stalwart shepherds, miners, and dock-labourers. When after eleven +days, land came, it was not touched at, but only remained cheeringly +on the horizon for the rest of the voyage. At last the sisters found +themselves unmolested on one of the many wharves of Montreal. But they +would not linger a day in this unhomely city. The next morning saw +them, dazed and worn out but happy-hearted, dodging the monstrous +catapults of the New York motor-cars, while a Polish porter helped +them with their bundles and convoyed them toward Srul's store. Ah, +what ecstasy to be unregarded units of this free chaotic crowd. +Outside the store--what a wonderful store it was, larger than the +largest in the weavers' colony!--the sisters paused a moment to roll +the coming bliss under their tongues. They peeped in. Ah, there is +Srul behind the counter, waiting for customers. Ah, ah, he little +knows what customers are waiting for him! They turned and kissed each +other for mere joy. + +"Draw your shawl over your face," whispered Leah merrily. "Go in and +ask him if he has a wedding-veil." Biela slipped in, brimming over +with mischief and tears. + +"Yes, Miss?" said Srul, with his smartest store manner. + +"I want a wedding-veil of white lace," she said in Yiddish. At her +voice Srul started. Biela could keep up the joke no longer. "Srul, my +darling Srul!" she cried hysterically, her arms yearning to reach him +across the counter. + +He drew back, pale, gasping for breath. + +"Ah, my dear ones!" blubbered Leah, rushing in. "God has been good to +you, after all." + +"But--but--how did you get in?" he cried, staring. + +"Never mind how we got in," said Leah, every pock-mark glistening with +smiles and tears. "And where is Tsirrélé--my dear little Tsirrélé?" + +"She--she is out marketing, with the mother." + +"And the mother?" + +"She is well and happy." + +"Thank God!" said Leah fervently, and beckoned the porter with the +bundles. + +"But--but I let the room," he said, flushing. "I did not know that--I +could not afford--" + +"Never mind, we will find a room. The day is yet high." She settled +with the porter. + +Meantime Srul had begun playing nervously with a pair of scissors. He +snipped a gorgeous piece of stuff to fragments. + +"What are you doing?" said Biela at last. + +"Oh--I--" he burst into a nervous laugh. "And so you ran the blockade +after all. But--but I expect customers every minute--we can't talk +now. Go inside and rest, Biela: you will find a sofa in the parlour. +Leah, I want--I want to talk to you." + +Leah flashed a swift glance at him as Biela, vaguely chilled, moved +through the back door into the revivifying splendours of the parlour. + +"Something is wrong, Srul," Leah said hoarsely. "Tsirrélé is not here. +You feared to tell us." + +He hung his head. "I did my best." + +"She is ill--dead, perhaps! My beautiful angel!" + +He opened his eyes. "Dead? No. Married!" + +"What! To whom?" + +He turned a sickly white. "To me." + +In all that long quest of the canopy, Leah had never come so near +fainting as now. The horror of Ellis Island was nothing to this. That +scene resurged, and Tsirrélé's fresh beauty, unflecked by the voyage, +came up luridly before her; the "baby," whom the unnoted years had +made a young woman of fifteen, while they had been aging and staling +Biela. + +"But--but this will break Biela's heart," she whispered, heart-broken. + +"How was I to know Biela would _ever_ get in?" he said, trying to be +angry. "Was I to remain a bachelor all my life, breaking the +Almighty's ordinance? Did I not wait and wait faithfully for Biela all +those years?" + +"You could have migrated elsewhere," she said faintly. + +"And ruin my connection--and starve?" His anger was real by now. +"Besides I have married into the family--it is almost the same thing. +And the old mother is just as pleased." + +"Oh, she!" and all the endured bitterness of the long years was in the +exclamation. "All she wants is grandchildren." + +"No, it isn't," he retorted. "Grandchildren with good eyes." + +"God forgive you," was all the lump in Leah's throat allowed her to +reply. She steadied herself with a hand on the counter, striving to +repossess her soul for Biela's sake. + +A customer came in, and the tragic universe dwindled to a prosaic +place in which ribbons existed in unsatisfactory shades. + +"Of course we must go this minute," Leah said, as Srul clanked the +coins into the till. "Biela cannot ever live here with you now." + +"Yes, it is better so," he assented sulkily. "Besides, you may as well +know at once. I keep open on the Sabbath, and that would not have +pleased Biela. That is another reason why it was best not to marry +Biela. Tsirrélé doesn't seem to mind." + +The very ruins of her world seemed toppling now. But this new +revelation of Tsirrélé's and his own wickedness seemed only of a piece +with the first--indeed, went far to account for it. + +"You break the Sabbath, after all!" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "We are not in Poland any longer. No dead +flies here. Everybody does it. Shut the store two days a week! I +should get left." + +"And you bring your mother's gray hairs down with sorrow to the +grave." + +"My mother's gray hairs are no longer hidden by a stupid black +_Shaitel_. That is all. I have explained to her that America is the +land of enlightenment and freedom. Her eyes are opened." + +"I trust to God, your father's--peace be upon him!--are still shut!" +said Leah as she walked with slow steady steps into the parlour, to +bear off her wounded lamb. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +V + +TO DIE IN JERUSALEM + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +V + +TO DIE IN JERUSALEM + + +I + +The older Isaac Levinsky grew, and the more he saw of the world after +business hours, the more ashamed he grew of the Russian Rabbi whom +Heaven had curiously chosen for his father. At first it seemed natural +enough to shout and dance prayers in the stuffy little Spitalfields +synagogue, and to receive reflected glory as the son and heir of the +illustrious Maggid (preacher) whose four hour expositions of Scripture +drew even West End pietists under the spell of their celestial +crookedness. But early in Isaac's English school-life--for cocksure +philanthropists dragged the younger generation to anglicization--he +discovered that other fathers did not make themselves ridiculously +noticeable by retaining the gabardine, the fur cap, and the ear-locks +of Eastern Europe: nay, that a few--O, enviable sons!--could scarcely +be distinguished from the teachers themselves. + +When the guardian angels of the Ghetto apprenticed him, in view of his +talent for drawing, to a lithographic printer, he suffered agonies at +the thought of his grotesque parent coming to sign the indentures. + +"You might put on a coat to-morrow," he begged in Yiddish. + +The Maggid's long black beard lifted itself slowly from the worm-eaten +folio of the Babylonian Talmud, in which he was studying the tractate +anent the payment of the half-shekel head-tax in ancient Palestine. +"If he took the money from the second tithes or from the Sabbatical +year fruit," he was humming in his quaint sing-song, "he must eat the +full value of the same in the city of Jerusalem." As he encountered +his boy's querulous face his dream city vanished, the glittering +temple of Solomon crumbled to dust, and he remembered he was in exile. + +"Put on a coat?" he repeated gently. "Nay, thou knowest 'tis against +our holy religion to appear like the heathen. I emigrated to England +to be free to wear the Jewish dress, and God hath not failed to bless +me." + +Isaac suppressed a precocious "Damn!" He had often heard the story of +how the cruel Czar Nicholas had tried to make his Jews dress like +Christians, so as insidiously to assimilate them away; how the police +had even pulled off the unsightly cloth-coverings of the shaven polls +of the married women, to the secret delight of the pretty ones, who +then let their hair grow in godless charm. And, mixed up with this +story, were vaguer legends of raw recruits forced by their sergeants +to kneel on little broken stones till they perceived the superiority +of Christianity. + +How the Maggid would have been stricken to the heart to know that +Isaac now heard these legends with inverted sympathies! + +"The blind fools!" thought the boy, with ever growing bitterness. "To +fancy that religion can lie in clothes, almost as if it was something +you could carry in your pockets! But that's where most of their +religion does lie--in their pocket." And he shuddered with a vision of +greasy, huckstering fanatics. "And just imagine if I was sweet on a +girl, having to see all her pretty hair cut off! As for those +recruits, it served them right for not turning Christians. As if +Judaism was any truer! And the old man never thinks of how he is +torturing _me_--all the sharp little stones he makes _me_ kneel on." +And, looking into the future with the ambitious eye of conscious +cleverness, he saw the paternal gabardine over-glooming his life. + + +II + +One Friday evening--after Isaac had completed his 'prentice +years--there was anxiety in the Maggid's household in lieu of the +Sabbath peace. Isaac's seat at the board was vacant. The twisted +loaves seemed without salt, the wine of the consecration cup without +savour. + +The mother was full of ominous explanations. + +"Perturb not the Sabbath," reproved the gabardined saint gently, and +quoted the Talmud: "'No man has a finger maimed but 'tis decreed from +above." + +"Isaac has gone to supper somewhere else," suggested his little +sister, Miriam. + +"Children and fools speak the truth," said the Maggid, pinching her +cheek. + +But they had to go to bed without seeing him, as though this were only +a profane evening, and he amusing himself with the vague friends of +his lithographic life. They waited till the candles flared out, and +there seemed something symbolic in the gloom in which they groped +their way upstairs. They were all shivering, too, for the fire had +become gray ashes long since, the Sabbath Fire-Woman having made her +last round at nine o'clock and they themselves being forbidden to +touch even a candlestick or a poker. + +The sunrise revealed to the unclosed eyes of the mother that her boy's +bed was empty. It also showed--what she might have discovered the +night before had religion permitted her to enter his room with a +light--that the room was empty, too: empty of his scattered +belongings, of his books and sketches. + +"God in Heaven!" she cried. + +Her boy had run away. + +She began to wring her hands and wail with oriental amplitude, and +would have torn her hair had it not been piously replaced by a black +wig, neatly parted in the middle and now grotesquely placid amid her +agonized agitation. + +The Maggid preserved more outward calm. "Perhaps we shall find him in +synagogue," he said, trembling. + +"He has gone away, he will never come back. Woe is me!" + +"He has never missed the Sabbath service!" the Maggid urged. But +inwardly his heart was sick with the fear that she prophesied truly. +This England, which had seduced many of his own congregants to +Christian costume, had often seemed to him to be stealing away his +son, though he had never let himself dwell upon the dread. His sermon +that morning was acutely exegetical: with no more relation to his own +trouble than to the rest of contemporary reality. His soul dwelt in +old Jerusalem, and dreamed of Israel's return thither in some vague +millennium. When he got home he found that the postman had left a +letter. His wife hastened to snatch it. + +"What dost thou?" he cried. "Not to-day. When Sabbath is out." + +"I cannot wait. It is from him--it is from Isaac." + +"Wait at least till the Fire-Woman comes to open it." + +For answer the mother tore open the envelope. It was the boldest act +of her life--her first breach with the traditions. The Rabbi stood +paralyzed by it, listening, as without conscious will, to her sobbing +delivery of its contents. + +The letter was in Hebrew (for neither parent could read English), and +commenced abruptly, without date, address, or affectionate formality. +"This is the last time I shall write the holy tongue. My soul is +wearied to death of Jews, a blind and ungrateful people, who linger on +when the world no longer hath need of them, without country of their +own, nor will they enter into the blood of the countries that stretch +out their hands to them. Seek not to find me, for I go to a new world. +Blot out my name even as I shall blot out yours. Let it be as though I +was never begotten." + +The mother dropped the letter and began to scream hysterically. "I who +bore him! I who bore him!" + +"Hold thy peace!" said the father, his limbs shaking but his voice +firm. "He is dead. 'The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed +be the name of the Lord.' To-night we will begin to sit the seven +days' mourning. But to-day is the Sabbath." + +"My Sabbath is over for aye. Thou hast driven my boy away with thy +long prayers." + +"Nay, God hath taken him away for thy sins, thou godless +Sabbath-breaker! Peace while I make the Consecration." + +"My Isaac, my only son! We shall say _Kaddish_ (mourning-prayer) for +him, but who will say _Kaddish_ for us?" + +"Peace while I make the Consecration!" + +He got through with the prayer over the wine, but his breakfast +remained untasted. + + +III + +Re-reading the letter, the poor parents agreed that the worst had +happened. The allusions to "blood" and "the new world" seemed +unmistakable. Isaac had fallen under the spell of a beautiful heathen +female; he was marrying her in a church and emigrating with her to +America. Willy-nilly, they must blot him out of their lives. + +And so the years went by, over-brooded by this shadow of living death. +The only gleam of happiness came when Miriam was wooed and led under +the canopy by the President of the congregation, who sold +haberdashery. True, he spoke English well and dressed like a clerk, +but in these degenerate days one must be thankful to get a son-in-law +who shuts his shop on the Sabbath. + +One evening, some ten years after Isaac's disappearance, Miriam sat +reading the weekly paper--which alone connected her with the world and +the fulness thereof--when she gave a sudden cry. + +"What is it?" said the haberdasher. + +"Nothing--I thought--" And she stared again at the rough cut of a head +embedded in the reading matter. + +But no, it could not be! + +"Mr. Ethelred P. Wyndhurst, whose versatile talents have brought him +such social popularity, is rumoured to have budded out in a new +direction. He is said to be writing a comedy for Mrs. Donald O'Neill, +who, it will be remembered, sat to him recently for the portrait now +on view at the Azure Art Club. The dashing _comédienne_ will, it is +stated, produce the play in the autumn season. Mr. Wyndhurst's smart +sayings have often passed from mouth to mouth, but it remains to be +seen whether he can make them come naturally from the mouths of his +characters." + +What had these far-away splendours to do with Isaac Levinsky? With +Isaac and his heathen female across the Atlantic? + +And yet--and yet Ethelred P. Wyndhurst _was_ like Isaac--that +characteristic curve of the nose, those thick eyebrows! And perhaps +Isaac _had_ worked himself up into a portrait-painter. Why not? Did +not his old sketch of herself give distinction to her parlour? Her +heart swelled proudly at the idea. But no! more probably the face in +print was roughly drawn--was only accidentally like her brother. She +sighed and dropped the paper. + +But she could not drop the thought. It clung to her, wistful and +demanding satisfaction. The name of Ethelred P. Wyndhurst, whenever it +appeared in the paper--and it was surprising how often she saw it now, +though she had never noticed it before--made her heart beat with the +prospect of clews. She bought other papers, merely in the hope of +seeing it, and was not unfrequently rewarded. Involuntarily, her +imagination built up a picture of a brilliant romantic career that +only needed to be signed "Isaac." She began to read theatrical and +society journals on the sly, and developed a hidden life of +imaginative participation in fashionable gatherings. And from all this +mass of print the name Ethelred P. Wyndhurst disengaged itself with +lurid brilliancy. The rumours of his comedy thickened. It was +christened _The Sins of Society_. It was to be put on soon. It was not +written yet. Another manager had bid for it. It was already in +rehearsal. It was called _The Bohemian Boy_. It would not come on this +season. Miriam followed feverishly its contradictory career. And one +day there was a large picture of Isaac! Isaac to the life! She soared +skywards. But it adorned an interview, and the interview dropped her +from the clouds. Ethelred was born in Brazil of an English engineer +and a Spanish beauty, who performed brilliantly on the violin. He had +shot big game in the Rocky Mountains, and studied painting in Rome. + +The image of her mother playing the violin, in her preternaturally +placid wig, brought a bitter smile to Miriam's lips. And yet it was +hard to give up Ethelred now. It seemed like losing Isaac a second +time. And presently she reflected shrewdly that the wig and the +gabardine wouldn't have shown up well in print, that indeed Isaac in +his farewell letter had formally renounced them, and it was therefore +open to him to invent new parental accessories. Of course--fool that +she was!--how could Ethelred P. Wyndhurst acknowledge the same +childhood as Isaac Levinsky! Yes, it might still be her Isaac. + +Well, she would set the doubt at rest. She knew, from the wide reading +to which Ethelred had stimulated her, that authors appeared before the +curtain on first nights. She would go to the first night of _The +Whirligig_ (that was the final name), and win either joy or mental +rest. + +She made her expedition to the West End on the pretext of a sick +friend in Bow, and waited many hours to gain a good point of view in +the first row of the gallery, being too economical to risk more than a +shilling on the possibility of relationship to the dramatist. + +As the play progressed, her heart sank. Though she understood little +of the conversational paradoxes, it seemed to her--now she saw with +her physical eye this brilliant Belgravian world, in the stalls as +well as on the stage--that it was impossible her Isaac could be of +it, still less that it could be Isaac's spirit which marshalled so +masterfully these fashionable personages through dazzling +drawing-rooms; and an undercurrent of satire against Jews who tried to +get into society by bribing the fashionables, contributed doubly to +chill her. She shared in the general laughter, but her laugh was one +of hysterical excitement. + +But when at last amid tumultuous cries of "Author!" Isaac Levinsky +really appeared,--Isaac, transformed almost to a fairy prince, as +noble a figure as any in his piece, Isaac, the proved master-spirit of +the show, the unchallenged treader of all these radiant circles,--then +all Miriam's effervescing emotion found vent in a sobbing cry of joy. + +"Isaac!" she cried, stretching out her arms across the gallery bar. + +But her cry was lost in the applause of the house. + + +IV + +She wrote to him, care of the theatre. The first envelope she had to +tear up because it was inadvertently addressed to Isaac Levinsky. + +Her letter was a gush of joy at finding her dear Isaac, of pride in +his wonderful position. Who would have dreamed a lithographer's +apprentice would arrive at leading the fashions among the nobility and +gentry? But she had always believed in his talents; she had always +treasured the water-colour he had made of her, and it hung in the +parlour behind the haberdasher's shop into which she had married. He, +too, was married, they had imagined, and gone to America. But perhaps +he _was_ married, although in England. Would he not tell her? Of +course, his parents had cast him out of their hearts, though she had +heard mother call out his name in her sleep. But she herself thought +of him very often, and perhaps he would let her come to see him. She +would come very quietly when the grand people were not there, nor +would she ever let out that he was a Jew, or not born in Brazil. +Father was still pretty strong, thank God, but mother was rather +ailing. Hoping to see him soon, she remained his loving Miriam. + +She waited eagerly for his answer. Day followed day, but none came. + +When the days passed into weeks, she began to lose hope; but it was +not till _The Whirligig_, which she followed in the advertisement +columns, was taken off after a briefer run than the first night seemed +to augur, that she felt with curious conclusiveness that her letter +would go unanswered. Perhaps even it had miscarried. But it was now +not difficult to hunt out Ethelred P. Wyndhurst's address, and she +wrote him anew. + +Still the same wounding silence. After the lapse of a month, she +understood that what he had written in Hebrew was final; that he had +cut himself free once and forever from the swaddling coils of +gabardine, and would not be dragged back even within touch of its hem. +She wept over her second loss of him, but the persistent thought of +him had brought back many tender childish images, and it seemed +incredible that she would never really creep into his life again. He +had permanently enlarged her horizon, and she continued to follow his +career in the papers, worshipping it as it loomed grandiose through +her haze of ignorance. Gradually she began to boast of it in her more +English circles, and so in course of time it became known to all but +the parents that the lost Isaac was a shining light in high +heathendom, and a vast secret admiration mingled with the contempt of +the Ghetto for Ethelred P. Wyndhurst. + + +V + +In high heathendom a vast secret contempt mingled with the admiration +for Ethelred P. Wyndhurst. He had, it is true, a certain vogue, but +behind his back he was called a Jew. He did not deserve the stigma in +so far as it might have implied financial prosperity. His numerous +talents had only availed to prevent one another from being seriously +cultivated. He had had a little success at first with flamboyant +pictures, badly drawn, and well paragraphed; he had written tender +verses for music, and made quiet love to ugly and unhappy society +ladies; he was an assiduous first-nighter, and was suspected of +writing dramatic criticisms, even of his own comedy. And in that +undefined social segment where Kensington and Bohemia intersect, he +was a familiar figure (a too familiar figure, old fogies grumbled) +with an unenviable reputation as a diner-out--for the sake of the +dinner. + +Yet some of the people who called him "sponge" were not averse from +imbibing his own liquids when he himself played the gracious host. He +was appearing in that rôle one Sunday evening before a motley assembly +in his dramatically furnished studio, nay, he was in the very act of +biting into a sandwich scrupulously compounded with ham, when a +telegram was handed to him. + +"Another of those blessed actresses crying off," he said. "I wonder +how they ever manage to take up their cues!" + +Then his face changed as he hurriedly crumpled up the pinkish paper. + +"Mother is dying. No hope. She cries to see you. Have told her you are +in London. Father consents. Come at once.--MIRIAM." + +He put the crumpled paper to the gas and lit a new cigarette with it. + +"As I thought," he said, smiling. "When a woman is an actress as well +as a woman--" + + +VI + +After his wife died--vainly calling for her Isaac--the old Maggid was +left heart-broken. It was as if his emotions ran in obedient harmony +with the dictum of the Talmud: "Whoso sees his first wife's death is +as one who in his own day saw the Temple destroyed." + +What was there for him in life now but the ruins of the literal +Temple? He must die soon, and the dream that had always haunted the +background of his life began to come now into the empty foreground. If +he could but die in Jerusalem! + +There was nothing of consequence for him to do in England. His Miriam +was married and had grown too English for any real communion. True, +his congregation was dear to him, but he felt his powers waning: other +Maggidim were arising who could speak longer. + +To see and kiss the sacred soil, to fall prostrate where once the +Temple had stood, to die in an ecstasy that was already Gan-Iden +(Paradise)--could life, indeed, hold such bliss for him, life that had +hitherto proved a cup of such bitters? + +Life was not worth living, he agreed with his long-vanished +brother-Rabbis in ancient Babylon, it was only a burden to be borne +nobly. But if life was not worth living, death--in Jerusalem--was +worth dying. Jerusalem! to which he had turned three times a day in +praying, whose name was written on his heart, as on that of the +mediĉval Spanish singer, with whom he cried:-- + + "Who will make to me wings that I may fly ever Eastward, + Until my ruined heart shall dwell in the ruins of thee? + Then will I bend my face to thy sacred soil and hold precious + Thy very stones, yea e'en to thy dust shall I tender be. + + "Life of the soul is the air of thy land, and myrrh of the purest + Each grain of thy dust, thy waters sweetest honey of the comb. + Joyous my soul would be, could I even naked and barefoot, + Amid the holy ruins of thine ancient Temple roam, + Where the Ark was shrined, and the Cherubim in the Oracle + had their home." + +To die in Jerusalem!--that were success in life. + +Here he was lonely. In Jerusalem he would be surrounded by a glorious +host. Patriarchs, prophets, kings, priests, rabbonim--they all hovered +lovingly over its desolation, whispering heavenly words of comfort. + +But now a curious difficulty arose. The Maggid knew from +correspondence with Jerusalem Rabbis that a Russian subject would have +great difficulty in slipping in at Jaffa or Beyrout, even aided by +_bakhshîsh_. The only safe way was to enter as a British subject. +Grotesque irony of the fates! For nigh half a century the old man had +lived in England in his gabardine, and now that he was departing to +die in gabardine lands, he was compelled to seek naturalization as a +voluntary Englishman! He was even compelled to account mendaciously +for his sudden desire to identify himself with John Bull's +institutions and patriotic prejudices, and to live as a free-born +Englishman. By the aid of a rich but pious West End Jew, who had +sometimes been drawn Eastwards by the Maggid's exegetical eloquence, +all difficulties were overcome. Armed with a passport, signed floridly +as with a lion's tail rampant, the Maggid--after a quasi-death-bed +blessing to Miriam by imposition of hands from the railway-carriage +window upon her best bonnet--was whirled away toward his holy +dying-place. + + +VII + +Such disappointment as often befalls the visionary when he sees the +land of his dreams was spared to the Maggid, who remained a visionary +even in the presence of the real; beholding with spiritual eye the +refuse-laden alleys and the rapacious _Schnorrers_ (beggars). He lived +enswathed as with heavenly love, waiting for the moment of transition +to the shining World-To-Come, and his supplications at the Wailing Wall +for the restoration of Zion's glory had, despite their sympathetic +fervour, the peaceful impersonality of one who looks forward to no +worldly kingdom. To outward view he lived--in the rare intervals when +he was not at a synagogue or a house-of-learning--somewhere up a dusky +staircase in a bleak, narrow court, in one tiny room supplemented by a +kitchen in the shape of a stove on the landing, itself a centre of +pilgrimage to _Schnorrers_ innumerable, for whom the rich English +Maggid was an unexpected windfall. Rich and English were synonymous in +hungry Jerusalem, but these beggars' notion of charity was so modest, +and the coin of the realm so divisible, that the Maggid managed to +gratify them at a penny a dozen. At uncertain intervals he received a +letter from Miriam, written in English. The daughter had not carried on +the learned tradition of the mother, and so the Maggid was wont to have +recourse to the head of the philanthropic technical school for the +translation of her news into Hebrew. There was, however, not much of +interest; Miriam's world had grown too alien: she could scrape together +little to appeal to the dying man. And so his last ties with the past +grew frailer and frailer, even as his body grew feebler and feebler, +until at last, bent with great age and infirmity, so that his white +beard swept the stones, he tottered about the sacred city like an +incarnation of its holy ruin. He seemed like one bent over the verge of +eternity, peering wistfully into its soundless depths. Surely God would +send his Death-Angel now. + +Then one day a letter from Miriam wrenched him back violently from his +beatific vision, jerked him back to that other eternity of the dead +past. + +Isaac, Isaac had come home! Had come home to find desolation. Had then +sought his sister, and was now being nursed by her through his dying +hours. His life had come to utter bankruptcy: his possessions--by a +cruel coincidence--had been sold up at the very moment that the +doctors announced to him that he was a doomed man. And his death-bed +was a premature hell of torture and remorse. He raved incessantly for +his father. Would he not annul the curse, grant him his blessing, +promise to say _Kaddish_ for his soul, that he might be saved from +utter damnation? Would he not send his forgiveness by return, for +Isaac's days were numbered, and he could not linger on more than a +month or so? + +The Maggid was terribly shaken. He recalled bitterly the years of +suffering, crowned by Isaac's brutal heedlessness to the cry of his +dying mother: but the more grievous the boy's sin, the more awful the +anger of God in store for him. + +And the mother--would not her own Gan-Iden be spoilt by her boy's +agonizing in hell? For her sake he must forgive his froward offspring; +perhaps God would be more merciful, then. The merits of the father +counted: he himself was blessed beyond his deserts by the merits of +the Fathers--of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He had made the pilgrimage +to Jerusalem; perhaps his prayers would be heard at the Mercy-Seat. + +With shaking hand the old man wrote a letter to his son, granting him +a full pardon for the sin against himself, but begging him to entreat +God day and night. And therewith an anthology of consoling Talmudical +texts: "A man should pray for Mercy even till the last clod is thrown +upon his grave.... For Repentance and Prayer and Charity avert the +Evil Decree." The Charity he was himself distributing to the startled +_Schnorrers_. + +The schoolmaster wrote out the envelope, as usual, but the Maggid did +not post the letter. The image of his son's death-bed was haunting +him. Isaac called to him in the old boyish tones. Could he let his boy +die there without giving him the comfort of his presence, the visible +assurance of his forgiveness, the touch of his hands upon his head in +farewell blessing? No, he must go to him. + +But to leave Jerusalem at his age? Who knew if he would ever get back +to die there? If he should miss the hope of his life! But Isaac kept +calling to him--and Isaac's mother. Yes, he had strength for the +journey. It seemed to come to him miraculously, like a gift from +Heaven and a pledge of its mercy. + +He journeyed to Beyrout, and after a few days took ship for +Marseilles. + + +VIII + +Meantime in the London Ghetto the unhappy Ethelred P. Wyndhurst found +each day a year. He was in a rapid consumption: a disorderly life had +told as ruinously upon his physique as upon his finances. And with +this double collapse had come a strange irresistible resurgence of +early feelings and forgotten superstitions. The avenging hand was +heavy upon him in life,--what horrors yet awaited him when he should +be laid in the cold grave? The shadow of death and judgment +over-brooded him, clouding his brain almost to insanity. + +There would be no forgiveness for him--his father's remoteness had +killed his hope of that. It was the nemesis, he felt, of his refusal +to come to his dying mother. God had removed his father from his +pleadings, had wrapped him in an atmosphere holy and aloof. How should +Miriam's letter penetrate through the walls of Jerusalem, pierce +through the stonier heart hardened by twenty years of desertion! + +And so the day after she had sent it, the spring sunshine giving him a +spurt of strength and courage, a desperate idea came to him. If he +could go to Jerusalem himself! If he could fall upon his father's +neck, and extort his blessing! + +And then, too, he would die in Jerusalem! + +Some half-obliterated text sounded in his ears: "And the land shall +forgive sin." + +He managed to rise--his betaking himself to bed, he found, as the +sunshine warmed him, had been mere hopelessness and self-pity. Let him +meet Death standing, aye, journeying to the sun-lands. Nay, when +Miriam, getting over the alarm of his up-rising, began to dream of the +Palestine climate curing him, he caught a last flicker of optimism, +spoke artistically of the glow and colour of the East, which he had +never seen, but which he might yet live to render on canvas, winning a +new reputation. Yes, he would start that very day. Miriam pledged her +jewellery to supply him with funds, for she dared not ask her husband +to do more for the stranger. + +But long before Ethelred P. Wyndhurst reached Jaffa he knew that only +the hope of his father's blessing was keeping him alive. + +Somewhere at sea the ships must have passed each other. + + +IX + +When the gabardined Maggid reached Miriam's house, his remains of +strength undermined by the long journey, he was nigh stricken dead on +the door-step by the news that his journey was vain. + +"It is the will of God," he said hopelessly. The sinner was beyond +mercy. He burst into sobs and tears ran down his pallid cheeks and +dripped from his sweeping white beard. + +"Thou shouldst have let us know," said Miriam gently. "We never +dreamed it was possible for thee to come." + +"I came as quickly as a letter could have announced me." + +"But thou shouldst have cabled." + +"Cabled?" The process had never come within his ken. "But how should +I dream he could travel? Thy letter said he was on his death-bed. I +prayed God I might but arrive in time." + +He was for going back at once, but Miriam put him to bed--the bed +Isaac should have died in. + +"Thou canst cable thy forgiveness, at least," she said, and so, +without understanding this new miracle, he bade her ask the +schoolmaster to convey his forgiveness to his son. + +"Isaac will inquire for me, if he arrives alive," he said. "The +schoolmaster will hear of him. It is a very small place, alas! for God +hath taken away its glory by reason of our sins." + +The answer came the same afternoon. "Message just in time. Son died +peacefully." + +The Maggid rent his bed-garment. "Thank God!" he cried. "He died in +Jerusalem. Better he than I! Isaac died in Jerusalem! God will have +mercy on his soul." + +Tears of joy sprang to his bleared eyes. "He died in Jerusalem," he +kept murmuring happily at intervals. "My Isaac died in Jerusalem." + +Three days later the Maggid died in London. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VI + +BETHULAH + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VI + +BETHULAH + + +I + +The image of her so tragically trustful in that mountain village of +Bukowina still haunts my mind, and refuses to be exorcised, as of +yore, by the prose of life. One who is very dear to me advises driving +her out at the point of the pen. Whether such recording of my life's +strangest episode will lay these memories or not, the story itself may +at least instruct my fellow-Jews in New York how variously their +religion has manifested itself upon this perplexing planet. Doubtless +many are still as ignorant as I was respecting their mediĉval +contemporaries in Eastern Europe. True, they have now opportunities in +their own Ghetto--which is, for cosmopolitanism, a New York within a +New York--of studying strata from other epochs of Judaism spread out +on the same plane of time as their own, even as upon the white sheet +of that wonderful invention my aged eyes have lived to see, sequent +events may be pictured simultaneously. In my youth these opportunities +did not exist. Only in Baltimore and a few of the great Eastern +cities was there any aggregation of Jews, and these were all--or +wanted to be--good Yankees; while beyond the Mississippi, where my +father farmed and hunted like a Christian, and where you might have +scoured a thousand square miles to get _minyan_ (ten Jews for +worship), our picturesque customs and ceremonies dwindled away from +sheer absence of fellowship. My father used to tell of a bronzed +trapper he breakfasted with on the prairie, who astonished him by +asking him over their bacon if he were a Jew. "Yes," said my father. +"Shake!" said the trapper. "You're the first fellow-Jew I've met for +twenty years." Though in my childhood my father taught me the Hebrew +he had brought from Europe, and told me droll Jewish stories in his +native German, it will readily be understood that the real influences +I absorbed were the great American ideals of liberty and humanity, +emancipation and enlightenment, and that therefore the strange things +I witnessed among the Carpathians were far more startling to me than +they can be to the Jews of to-day upon whom the Old World has poured +its archaic inhabitants. Nevertheless, I cannot but think that even +those who have met strange drifts of sects in New York will be +astonished by the tradition which I stumbled upon so blindly in my +first European tour. For, so far as I can gather, the Zloczszol legend +is unique in Jewish history and confined exclusively to this +out-of-the-way corner, however near other heresies may have approached +to some of the underlying conceptions. My landlord Yarchi's view that +it was a mere piece of local commercial myth-making, a gross artifice, +would have at least the merit of explaining this uniqueness. It has, +in my eyes, no other. + +This tour of mine was to make not a circle, but a half-circle, for, +landing at Hamburg I was to return by the Baltic, after a circuit +through Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Buda-Pesth, Lemberg, (where my +grandfather had once been a rabbi of consideration), Moscow, and St. +Petersburg. I did not linger at Hamburg; purchasing a stout horse, I +started on my long ride. Of course it did not seem so long to me--who +had already ridden from Kansas to both of our seaboards--as it would +to a young gentleman of to-day accustomed to parlour cars, though the +constant change of dialects and foods was somewhat unsettling. + +But money speaks all languages, and a good Western stomach digests all +diets. Bad water, however, no stomach can cope with; and I was laid up +at Prague with a fever, which left me too weak to hurry on. I rambled +about the Ghetto--the Judenstadt--which gave me my first insight into +mediĉval Judaism, and was fascinated by the quaint alleys and houses, +the Jewish town-hall, and the cellarlike _Alt-Neu_ synagogue with its +miraculous history of unnumbered centuries. I heard the story of the +great red flag on the pillar, with its "shield of David" and the +Swede's hat, and was shown on the walls the spatterings of the blood +of the martyrs of 1389. + +What emotions I had in the old graveyard--a Ghetto of the dead--where +the graves were huddled together, three and four deep, and the very +tombstones and corpses had undergone Ghetto persecution! A whole new +world opened out to me, crooked as the Ghetto alleys--so alien from +the free life of the flowering prairies--as I walked about this +"Judengarten," studying the Hebrew inscriptions and the strange +symbolic sculptures--the Priest's hands of blessing, the Levite's +ewer, the Israelites' bunch of grapes, the Virgin with roses--and +trying to reconstruct the life these dead had lived. Strange ancestral +memories seemed thrilling through me, helping me to understand. Many +stories did I hear, too, of the celebrated Rabbi Löw, and of the +_golem_ he created, which brought him his meals: in sign whereof I was +shown his grave, and his house marked with a lion on a blue +background. I listened with American incredulity but hereditary +sympathy. I was astonished to find men who still believed in a certain +Sabbataï Zevi, Messiah of the Jews, and one showed me a Sabbatian +prayer-book with a turbaned head of this Redeemer side by side with +King David's, and another who scoffed at this seventeenth-century +impostor, yet told me the tradition in his own family, how they had +sold their business and were about to start for Palestine, when the +news reached them that so far from deposing the Sultan, this Redeemer +of Israel had become his doorkeeper and a Mohammedan. + +The year was passing toward the Fall ere I got to Buda-Pesth (in those +days the enchanted gateway of the Orient, resounding with gypsy music, +and not the civilized capital I found it the other day), and I had not +proceeded far on the northerly bend of my journey when, soon after +crossing the Carpathians, I was imprisoned in the mountain village of +Zloczszol by the sudden overflow of the Dniester. The village itself +was sheltered from the floods by a mountain between it and the +tributary of the Dniester; but all the roads northward were +impassable, and the water came round by clefts and soused our +bordering fields and oozed very near the maize-garden of Yarchi's pine +cottage, to which I had removed from the dirty inn, where a squalling +baby in a cradle had shared the private sitting-room. It was a very +straggling village, which began to straggle at the mountain-foot, but, +for fear of avalanches, I was told, the houses did not grow +companionable till some half a mile down the plain. + +In the centre of the village was a cobble-paved "Ring-Place" and +market-place, on which gave a few streets of shops (the +provision-shops benefiting hugely by the floods, which made imports +difficult). It was a Jewish colony, with the exception of a few +outlying farms, whose peasants brought touches of gorgeous colour into +the procession of black gabardines. It was strange to me to live in a +place in which every door-post bore a _Mezuzah_. It gave me a novel +sense of being in a land of Israel, and sometimes I used to wonder how +these people could feel such a sense of local patriotism as seemed to +possess them. And yet I reflected that, like the giant cedar of +Lebanon which rose from the plain in such strange contrast with the +native trees of Zloczszol, Israel could be transplanted everywhere, +and was made of as enduring and undying a wood--nay, that, even like +this cedar-wood, it had strange properties of conserving other +substances and arresting putrefaction. Hence its ubiquitous patriotism +was universally profitable. Nevertheless, this was one of the +surprises of my journey--to find Jews speaking every language under +the European sun, regarding themselves everywhere as part of the soil, +and often patriotic to the point of resenting immigrant Jews as +foreigners. I myself was popularly known as "the Stranger," though I +was not resented, because the couple of dollars at which I purchased +the privilege of "ark-opening" on my first visit to the synagogue--a +little Gothic building standing in a court-yard--gave me a further +reputation as "the rich stranger." Once I blushed to overhear myself +called "the handsome stranger," and I looked into my cracked mirror +with fresh interest. But I told myself modestly a stalwart son of the +prairies had an unfair advantage in such a world of stooping sallow +students. Certainly I felt myself favoured both in youth and looks +when I stepped into the Beth-Hamedrash, the house of study (which I +had at first taken for a little mosque, like those I had seen on the +slopes of Buda), and watched the curious gnarled graybeards crooning +and rocking the livelong day over worm-eaten folios. + +Despite such odd glimpses of the interesting, I grew as tired of +waiting for the waters to abate as Noah himself must have felt in his +zoological institute. + +One day as I was gazing from my one-story window at the melancholy +marsh to which the flood had reduced the landscape, I said glumly to +my hunchbacked landlord, who stood snuffing himself under the porch, +"I suppose it will be another week before I can get away." + +"Alas! yes," Yarchi replied. + +"Why alas?" I asked. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and +the longer I stay the better for you." + +He shook his head. "The flood that keeps you here keeps away the +pilgrims." + +"The pilgrims!" I echoed. + +"Ay," said he. "There will be three in that bed of yours." + +"But what pilgrims?" + +He stared at me. "Don't you know the New Year is nigh?" + +"Of course," I said mendaciously. I felt ashamed to confess my +ignorant unconcern as to the proximity of the solemn season of +ram's-horn blasts and penitence. + +"Well, it is at New Year the pilgrims flock to their Wonder Rabbi, +that he may hear their petitions and bear them on high, likewise +wrestle with Satan, and entreat for their forgiveness at the throne of +Grace." There was a twinkle in Yarchi's eyes not quite consistent with +the gravity of his words. + +"Do Wonder Rabbis live nowadays?" I asked. + +A pinch of snuff Yarchi was taking fell from between his fingers. "Do +they live!" he cried. "Yes--and off white bread, for poverty!" + +"We have none in America. I only heard of one in Prague," I murmured +apologetically, fearing the genus might be of the very elements of +Judaism. + +"Ah, yes, the high Rabbi Löw, his memory for a blessing," he said +reverently. "But these new Wonder Rabbis can only work one miracle." + +"What is that?" I asked. + +"The greatest of all--making their worshippers support them like +princes." And he laughed in admiration of his own humour. + +"Then you are a heretic?" I said. + +"Heretic!" Yarchi's black eyes exchanged their twinkle for a flash of +resentment. "Nay; they are the heretics, breeding dissension in +Israel. Did they not dance on the grave of the sainted Elijah Wilna?" + +Tired of tossing the ball of conversation up and down, I left the +window and joined the philosopher under his porch, where I elicted +from him his version of the eighteenth-century movement of +_Chassidim_, (the pious ones), which, in these days of English books +on Judaism, will not be so new to American Jews as it was to me. These +Shakers (or, as we should perhaps say nowadays, Salvationists), these +protestants against cut-and-dried Judaism, who arose among the +Carpathians under the inspiration of Besht (a word which Yarchi +explained to me was made out of the initials of Baal Shem Tob--the +Master of the Good Name), had, it seemed, pullulated into a thousand +different sects, each named after the Wonder Rabbi whom it swore by, +and in whose "exclusive divine right" (the phrase is Yarchi's) it +believed. + +"But _we_ have the divinest chief," concluded Yarchi, grinning. + +"That's what they all say, eh?" I said, smiling in response. + +"Yes; but the Zloczszol rabbi is stamped with the royal seal. He +professes to be of the Messianic seed, a direct descendant of David, +the son of Jesse." And the hunchback chuckled with malicious humour. + +"I should like to see him," I said, feeling as if Providence had +provided a new interest for my boredom. + +Yarchi pointed silently with his discoloured thumb over the plain. + +"You don't mean he is kept in that storehouse!" I said. + +Yarchi guffawed in high good-humour. + +"That! That's the _Klaus_!" + +"And what's the _Klaus_?" + +"The _Chassidim Stubele_ (little room)." + +"Is that where the miracles are done?" + +"No; that's their synagogue." + +"Oh, they just pray there!" + +"Pray? They get as drunk as Lot." + + +II + +I returned to my window and gazed curiously at the _Klaus_, and now +that my eye was upon it I saw it was astir with restless life. Men +came and went continually. I looked toward the synagogue, and the more +pretentious building seemed dead. Then I remembered what Yarchi had +told me, that the _Chassidim_ had revolted against set prayer-times. +("They pray and drink at all hours," was his way of putting it.) +Something must always be forward in the _Klaus_, I thought, as I took +my hat and stick, on exploring bent. Instinctively I put my pistol in +my hip pocket, then bethought myself with a laugh that I was not +likely to be molested by the "pious ones." But as it was unloaded, I +let it remain in the pocket. + +I slipped into the building and on to a bench near the door. But for +the veiled Ark at the end, I should not have known the place for a +house of worship. True, some men were sitting or standing about, +shouting and singing, with odd spasmodic gestures, but the bulk were +lounging, smoking clay pipes, drinking coffee, and chattering, while a +few, looking like tramps, lay snoring on the hard benches, deaf to all +the din. My eye sought at once for the Wonder Rabbi himself, but amid +the many quaint physiognomies there was none with any apparent seal of +supremacy. The note of all the faces was easy-going good-will, and +even the passionate contortions of melody and body which the +worshippers produced, the tragic clutchings at space, the clinching of +fists, and the beating of breasts had an air of cheery impromptu. They +seemed to enjoy their very tears. And every now and then the +inspiration would catch one of the gossipers and contort him likewise, +while a worshipper would as suddenly fall to gossiping. + +Very soon a frost-bitten old man I remembered coming across in the +cemetery on the mountain-slope, where he was sweeping the fallen +leaves from a tomb, and singing like the grave-digger in _Hamlet_, +sidled up to me and asked me if I needed vodka. I thought it advisable +to need some, and was quickly supplied from a box the old fellow +seemed to keep under the Ark. The price was so moderate that I tipped +him with as much again, doubtless to the enhancement of the "rich +stranger's" reputation. Sipping it, I was able to follow with more +show of ease the bursts of rambling conversation. Sometimes they +talked about the floods, anon about politics, then about sacred texts +and the illuminations of the _Zohar_. But there was one topic which +ran like a winding pattern through all the talk, bursting in at the +most unexpected places, and this was the wonders wrought by their +rabbi. + +As they dilated "with enkindlement" upon miracle after miracle, some +wrought on earth and some in the higher spheres to which his soul +ascended, my curiosity mounted, and calling for more vodka, "Where is +the rabbi?" I asked the sexton. + +"He may perhaps come down to lunch," said he, in reverent accents, as +if to imply that the rabbi was now in the upper spheres. I waited till +tables were spread with plain fare in the _Klaus_ itself. At the +savour the fountain of worship was sealed; the snorers woke up. I was +invited to partake of the meal, which, I was astonished to find, was +free to all, provided by the rabbi. + +"Truly royal hospitality," I thought. But our royal host himself did +not "come down." + +My neighbour, of whom I kept inquiring, at last told me, +sympathetically, to have patience till Friday evening, when the rabbi +would come to welcome in the Sabbath. But as it was then Tuesday, +"Cannot I call upon him?" I asked. + +He shook his head. "Ben David holds his court no more this year," he +said. "He is in seclusion, preparing for the exalted soul-flights of +the pilgrim season. The Sabbath is his only public day now." + +There was nothing for it but to wait till the Friday eve, though in +the meantime I got Yarchi to show me the royal palace--a plain +two-storied Oriental-looking building with a flat roof, and a turret +on the eastern side, whose high, ivy-mantled slit of window turned at +the first rays of the sun into a great diamond. + +"He couldn't come down, couldn't he?" Yarchi commented. "I daresay he +wasn't sober enough." + +Somehow this jarred upon me. I was beginning to conjure up romantic +pictures, and assuredly my one glimpse of the sect had not shown any +intoxication save psychic. + +"He is very generous, anyhow," I said. "He supplies a free lunch." + +"Free to him," retorted the incorrigible Yarchi. "The worshippers +fancy it is free, but it is they who pay for it." And he snuffed +himself, chuckling. "I'll tell you what is free," he added. "His +morals!" + +"But how do you know?" + +"Oh, all those fellows go in for the Adamite life." + +"What is the Adamite life?" + +He winked. "Not the pre-Evite." + +I saw it was fruitless to reason with his hunchbacked view of the +subject. + +On the Friday eve I repaired again to the _Klaus_, but this time it +was not so easy to find a seat. However, by the grace of my friend the +sexton, I was accommodated near the Ark, where, amid a congregation +clad in unexpected white, I sat, a conscious black discord. There was +a certain palpitating fervour in the air, as though the imminence of +the New Year and Judgment Day had strung all spirits to a higher +tension. Suddenly a shiver seemed to run through the assemblage, and +all eyes turned to the door. A tall old man, escorted by several +persons of evident consideration, walked with erect head but tottering +gait to the little platform in front of the Ark, and, taking a +praying-shawl from the reverential hand of the sexton, held it a +moment, as in abstraction, before drawing it over his head and +shoulders. As he stood thus, almost facing me, yet unconscious of me, +his image was photographed on my excited brain. He seemed very aged, +with abundant white locks and beard, and he was clothed in a white +satin robe cut low at the neck and ornamented at the breast with +gold-laced, intersecting triangles of "the Shield of David." + +On his head was a sort of white biretta. I noted a curious streak of +yellow in the silvered eyebrows, as if youth clung on, so to speak, +by a single hair, and underneath these arrestive eyebrows green pupils +alternately glowed and smouldered. On his forefinger he wore a signet +ring, set with amethysts and with a huge Persian emerald, which, as +his hand rose and fell, and his fingers clasped and unclasped +themselves in the convulsion of prayer, seemed to glare at me like a +third green eye. And as soon as he began thus praying, every trace of +age vanished. He trembled, but only from emotion; and his passion +mounted, till at last his whole body prayed. And the congregation +joined in with shakings and quiverings and thunderings and ululations. +Not even in Prague had I experienced such sympathetic emotion. After +the well-regulated frigidities of our American services, it was truly +warming to be among worshippers not ashamed to feel. Hours must have +passed, but I sat there as content as any. When the service ended, +everybody crowded round the Wonder Rabbi to give the "Good Sabbath" +handshake. The scene jarred me by its incongruous suggestion of our +American receptions at which the lion of the evening must extend his +royal paw to every guest. But I went up among the rest, and murmured +my salutation. The glow came into his eyes as they became conscious of +me for the first time, and his gaunt bloodless hand closed crushingly +on mine, so that I almost fancied the signet ring was sealing my +flesh. + +"Good Sabbath, stranger," he replied. "You linger long here." + +"As long as the floods," I said. + +"Are you as dangerous to us?" he flashed back. + +"I trust not," I said, a whit startled. + +His jewelled forefinger drummed on the reading-stand, and his eyes no +longer challenged mine, but were lowered as in abstraction. + +"Your grandfather, who lies in Lemberg, was no friend to the followers +of Besht. He laid the ban even on white Sabbath garments, and those +who but wept in the synagogues he classed with us." + +I was more taken aback by his knowledge of my grandfather than by that +ancient gentleman's hostility to the emotional heresy of his day. + +"I never saw my grandfather," I replied simply. + +"True. The son of the prairies should know more of God than the +bookworms. Will you accept a seat at my table?" + +"With pleasure, Rabbi," I murmured, dazed by his clairvoyant air. + +They were now arranging the two tables, one with a white cloth for the +master and his circle in strict order of precedence; and the other of +bare wood for such of the rabble as could first scramble into the +seats. I was placed on his right hand, and became at once an object of +wonder and awe. The _Kiddush_ which initiated the supper was not a +novel ceremony to me, but what I had never seen before was the +eagerness with which each guest sipped from the circulating wine-cup +of consecration, and the disappointment of such of the mob as could +find no drop to drain. Still fiercer was the struggle for the Wonder +Rabbi's soup, after he had taken a couple of spoonfuls; even I had no +chance of distinction before this sudden simultaneous swoop, though of +course I had my own plateful to drink. As sudden was the transition +from soup to song, the whole company singing and swaying in victorious +ecstasy. I turned to speak to my host, but his face awed me. The eyes +had now their smouldering inward fire. The eyebrows seemed wholly +white; the features were still. Then as I watched him his whole body +grew rigid, he closed his eyes, his head fell back. The singing +ceased; as tense a silence reigned as though the followers too were in +a trance. My eyes were fixed on the Master's blind face, which had now +not the dignity of death, but only the indignity of lifelessness, and, +but for the suggestion of mystery behind, would have ceased to impress +me. For there was now revealed a coarseness of lips, a narrowness of +forehead, an ugliness of high cheek-bone, which his imperial glance +had transfigured, and which his flowing locks still abated. But as I +gazed, the weird stillness took possession of me. I could not but feel +with the rest that the Master was making a "soul-ascension." + +It seemed very long--yet it may have been only a few minutes, for in +absolute silence one's sense of time is disconcerted--ere waves of +returning life began to traverse the cataleptic face and form. At last +the Wonder Rabbi opened his eyes, and the hush grew profounder. Every +ear was astrain for the revelations to come. + +"Children," said he slowly, "as I passed through the circles the souls +cried to me. 'Haste, haste, for the Evil One plotteth and the +Messianic day will be again delayed.' So I rose into the ante-chamber +of Grace where the fiery wheels sang 'Holy, holy,' and there I came +upon the Poison God waiting to see the glory of the Little Face. And +with him was a soul, very strange, such as I had never seen, living +neither in heaven nor hell, perchance created of Satan himself for his +instrument. Then with a great cry I uttered the Name, and the Poison +God fled with a great fluttering, leaving the nameless, naked soul +helpless amid the consuming, dazzling wheels. So I returned through +the circles to reassure the souls, and they shouted with a great +shout." + +"Hallelujah!" came in a great shout from the wrought-up listeners, and +then they burst into a lilting chant of triumph. But by this time my +mood had changed. The spell of novelty had begun to wear off; perhaps +also I was fatigued by the long strain. I recalled the coarser face of +the comatose saint, and I found nothing but gibberish in the oracular +"revelation" which he had brought down with such elaborate pains from +the circles amid which he seemed to move. + +Thanking him for his hospitality, I slipped from the hot, roaring +room. + +Ah! what a waft of fresh air and sense of starlit space! The young +moon floated in the star-sprinkled heavens like a golden boat, with a +faint suggestion of the full-sailed orb. The true glamour and mystery +of the universe were again borne in upon me, as in our rich, +constellated prairie nights, and all the artificial abracadabra of the +_Klaus_ seemed akin to its heated, noisy atmosphere. The lights of the +village were extinguished, and, looking at my watch, I found it was +close upon midnight. But as I passed the saint's "palace" I was +astonished to find a light twinkling from the turret window. I +wondered who kept vigil. Then I bethought me it was Friday night when +no light could be struck, and this must be Ben David's bed-room lamp, +awaiting his return. + +"I thought he had taken you up in his fiery chariot," grumbled Yarchi +sleepily, as he unbarred the door. + +"The fiery chariot must not run on the Sabbath," I said smiling. "And, +moreover, Ben David takes no passengers to the circles." + +"Circles! He ought to have a circle of rope round his neck." + +"The soup was good," I pleaded, as I groped my way toward my quaint, +tall bed. + + +III + +I cannot explain why, when Yarchi asked me sarcastically, over the +Sabbath dinner, whether I was going to the "Supper of the Holy Queen," +I knew at once that I should be found at this mysterious meal. Perhaps +it was that I had nothing better to do; perhaps my sympathy was +returning to those strange, good-humoured, musical loungers, so far +removed from the New York ideal of life. Or perhaps I was vaguely +troubled by the dream I had wrestled with more or less obscurely all +night long--that I stood naked in a whirl of burning wheels that sang, +as they turned, the melody of the _Chassidim_. Was I this nondescript +soul, I wondered, half smilingly, fashioned of the Evil One to delay +the Messianic era? + +The sun was set, the three stars already in the sky, and my pious +landlord had performed the Ceremony of Division ere I set out, +declining the bread and fish Yarchi offered to make up in a package. + +"Saturday nights every man must bring his own meal," he said. + +I replied that I went not to eat, but to look on. However, I was so +late in arriving that, as there were no lights, looking on was +well-nigh reduced to listening. In the gray twilight the _Klaus_ +seemed full of uncanny forms rocking in monotonous sing-song. Through +the gathering gloom the old Wonder Rabbi's face loomed half +ghostlike, half regal. As the mystic dusk grew deeper and darkness +fell, the fascination of it all began to overcome me: the dim, +tossing, crooning figures, divined rather than seen, washed round +lappingly and swayingly by their own rhythmic melody, full of wistful +sweetness. My soul too tossed in this circumlapping tide. The complex +world of modern civilization fell away from me as garments fall from a +bather. Even this primitive mountain village passed into nothingness, +and in a timeless, spaceless universe I floated in a lulling, +measureless music. + +Ĉons might have elapsed ere the glare of light dazzled my eyes when +the week-day candles were lit, and the supper to escort the departing +Holy Queen--the Sabbath--began. Again I was invited to the upper +table, despite Yarchi's warning. But I had no appetite for earthly +things, was jarred by the prosaic gusto with which the mystics threw +themselves upon the tureen of red _Borsch_ and the black pottle of +brandy. + +"Der Rabbi hat geheissen Branntwein trinken," hummed the sexton +joyously. But little by little, as their stomachs grew satiate, the +holy singing started afresh, and presently they leaped up, pulled +aside the table, and made a whirling ring. I was caught up into the +human cyclone, and round and round we flew, our hands upon one +another's shoulders, with blind ecstatic faces, our legs kicking out +madly, to repel, I understood, the embryonic demons outside the magic +circle. And again methought I made a "soul-ascension," or at least +hovered as near to the ineffable mysteries as the demoniacles to our +magic circle. + +Oh, what inexpressible religious raptures were mine! What no gorgeous +temple, nor pealing organ, nor white-robed minister had ever wrought +for me was wrought in this barracklike room with its rude benches and +wooden ark. "Children of the Palace" we sang, and as I strove to pick +up the words I thought we were indeed sons of our Father who is in +Heaven. + +CHILDREN OF THE PALACE + + Children of the Palace, haste-- + All who yearn the bliss to taste + Of the glorious Little-Faced, + Where, within the King's house placed, + Shines the sapphire throne enchased. + Come, in joyful dance enlaced, + Mock the cold and primly chaste. + See no sullen nor straitlaced + In our circle may be traced. + Here with th' Ancient One embraced + Inmost truth 'tis ours to taste, + Outer husks are shred to waste. + Children of the Palace, haste, + With the glory to be graced, + Come, behold the Little-Faced. + +We broke up some hours earlier than the previous evening, but I hurried +away from my sauntering fellow-worshippers, not now because I was +disgusted, but because I feared to be. I needed solitude--communion +with my own soul. The same crescent moon hung in the heavens, the same +endless stars drew on the thoughts to a material infinity. + +But now I felt there was another and a truer universe encompassing +this painted vision--a spiritual universe of which I had hitherto +known nothing, though I had glibly prated of it and listened +well-satisfied to sermons about it. + +The air was warm and pleasant, and, still thrilling with the sense of +the Over-Soul, I had passed the outposts of the village almost +unconsciously, and walked in the direction of the cemetery on the +other slope of the mountain (for the dead feared neither floods nor +avalanches). On my left ran the river, still turbulent and encumbered +with wreckage and logs, but now at low tide some feet below the level +of its steep banks. The road gradually narrowed till at last I was +walking on a mere strip of path between the starlit water and the base +of the mountain, which rose ineffably solemn with its desolate rock at +my side and its dark pines higher up. And suddenly lifting my eyes, I +saw before me a mystic moonlit figure that set my heart beating with +terror and surprise. + +It was the figure of a woman, or rather of a girl, tall, queenly, +shining in a strange white robe, with a crown of roses and olive +branches. For a moment she seemed like some spirit of moonlight. But +though the eyes were misted with sadness and dream, the face was of +the most beautiful Jewish oval, glowing with dark creamy flesh. + +A wild idea rose to my mind, and, absurdly enough, stilled my beating +heart. This was the Holy Queen Sabbath whose departure we had just +been celebrating, and in this unfrequented haunt she abode till the +twilight of the next Friday. + +"Hail, Holy Queen!" I said, almost involuntarily. + +I saw her large beautiful eyes grow larger as she woke with a start to +my presence, but she only inclined her head with a sovereign air, as +one used to adoration, and floated on--for so her gracious motion +seemed to me. + +And as she passed by, it flashed upon me that the strange white robe +was nothing but a shroud. And again a great horror seized me. But +struggling with my failing senses, I told myself that at worst it was +some poor creature buried alive in the graveyard, who had forced the +coffin lid, and now wandered half insanely homewards. + +"May I not escort you, lady?" I cried after her. "The way is lonely." + +She turned her face again upon me. I saw it had fire as well as +mystery. + +"Who dare molest the Holy Queen?" she said. + +Again I was plunged into the wildest bewilderment. Was my first fancy +true? Or had I stumbled upon some esoteric title she bore? Or had she +but seized on my own phrase? + +"But you go far?" I persisted. + +"Unto my father's house." + +"Pardon me. I am a stranger." + +She turned round wholly now and looked at me. "Oh, are _you_ the +_Stranger_?" she said. The question rippled like music from her lips +and was as sweet to my ear, linking her to me by the suggestion that I +was not new to her imagination. + +"I am the Stranger," I answered, moving slowly toward her, "and +therefore afraid for your sake, and startled by the shroud you wear." + +"Since the dawn of my thirteenth year it has been my daily robe. It +should be in lamentation for Zion laid waste. But me, I fear, it +reminds more of my dead mother and sisters." + +"You had sisters?" + +"Two beautiful lives, blown out one after the other like candles, +making our home dark, when I was but a child. They too wore shrouds in +life and death, first the elder, then the younger; and when I draw +mine over my dress, it is of them I think always. I feel we are truly +sisters--sisters of the shroud." + +I shivered as from some chill graveyard air, despite her sweet +corporeality. + +"But the crown--the crown of joy?" I murmured, regarding now with +closer vision the intertangled weaving of roses and myrtle and olive +branches, with gold and crimson threads wound about salt stones and +the pale yellow of pyrites. + +"I do not know what it signifies," she said simply. + +"Are you not the Holy Queen?" I asked, beginning to scent some +Cabalistic or _Chassidic_ mystery. + +"Men worship me. But I know not of what I am queen." And a wistful +smile played about the sweet mouth. "Peace and sweet dreams to you, +sir." And she turned her face to the village. + +She knew not of what she was queen. There, all in one sentence, was +the charm, the wonder, the pathos, of her. Yet there was still much +that she knew that would enlighten me. And it was not wholly curiosity +that provoked me to hold the vision. I hated to see the enchantment of +her presence dissolve, to be robbed of the liquid notes of her voice. + +"You are queen of me at least," I said, following her, and throwing +all my republican principles into the river among the other wreckage. +"And your Majesty's liege cannot endure to see you walk unattended so +late in the night." + +"I have God's company," she answered quietly. + +"True; He is always with us. Nevertheless, at night and in the +mountains--" + +"He may be perceived more clearly. My father makes soul-ascensions at +any hour by force of prayer. But for me the divine ecstasy comes only +under God's heaven, and most clearly at night and among the graves. +By day God is invisible, like the stars." + +"They may be perceived from a well," I said, mechanically, for my +brain was busy with the intuition that she was Ben David's daughter, +that her "queendom" was somehow bound up with his alleged royal +descent. + +"Even so is God visible from the deeps of the spirit," she answered. +"But these depths are not mine, and day speaks to me less surely of +Him." + +"The day is divine too," I urged. "God speaks also through joy, +through sunshine." + +"It is but the gilding of sorrow." + +"Nay, that is too hard a saying. How can you know that? You"--I made a +bold guess, for my brain had continued to work feverishly--"who live +cloistered in a turret, who are kept sequestered from man, who walk at +night, and only among the dead. How can you know that life is so sad?" + +"I feel it. Is not every stone in the graveyard hewn from the dead +heart of the mourners?" + +All the sadness of the world was in her eyes, yet somehow all the +sweet solace. Again she bade me good-night, and I was so under the +spell of her strange reply that I made no further effort to follow +her, as she was swallowed up in the gloom of the firs where the path +wound back round the mountain. + + +IV + +The floods abated before the New Year dawned, as was testified by the +arrival, not of doves with olive leaves, but of pilgrims from the +north with shekels. The road was therefore open for me to go, yet I +lingered. I told myself it was the fascination of the pilgrims, that +curious new population which brought quite a bustle into the +"Ring-Place" of Zloczszol, and gave even the shops of the native +_Chassidim_ a live air. There were unpleasant camp-followers in the +train of the invading army, cripples and consumptives, both rich and +poor; but, on the whole, it was a cheery, well-to-do company. I +retained my room by paying the rent of three lodgers, and even then +Yarchi would come in and look at the big, tall bed wistfully, as if it +were a waste of sleeping material. + +The great episode of each day was now the royal levee. Crowds besieged +the door of the "palace," in quest of health, wealth, and happiness, +and the proprietor of fields had to squeeze in with the tramp, and the +peasant woman and her neglected brat jostled the jewelled dame from +the towns. I was glad to think that the "Holy Queen" was hidden safely +away in her turret, and this consoled me for not meeting her again, +though I walked or trotted about on my bay mare at all hours and in +all places in quest of her. + +It may seem curious that I did not boldly call and ask to see her, but +that would bring the commonplace into our so poetic relation. Besides +which, I divined that she would not be easily on view. Beyond +indirectly justifying my intuition that she was Ben David's daughter +by satisfying myself that the Wonder Rabbi had once had three girls, +two of whom had died, I would not even make inquiries. I feared to +dissipate the mystery and sacredness of our relation by gossip. +Perhaps Yarchi would tell me she was mad, or treat me to some other +coarse misconception due to the callous feelers with which he +apprehended the world. + +I did not even know for certain that the light I saw in the turret was +hers. But when at night it was out, I hastened to the river-side, to +see only my own shadow on the hushed mountain slope or on the white +tombs. It seemed clear that she was being kept sacred from the +pilgrims' gaze; perhaps, too, the deserted, untravelled road which was +safe as her own home in normal times, was less secure now. + +When I at last ventured to say casually to Yarchi that Ben David's +daughter seemed to be kept strictly to the house, the ribald grin I +had feared distorted his malicious mouth. + +"Oh, you have seen Bethulah!" he said. + +"Yes," I murmured, turning my flushed face away, but glad to learn her +name. Bethulah! Bethulah! my heart seemed to beat to the music of it. + +"Does she still stalk about in a shroud?" He did not wait for an +answer, but went off into unending laughter, which doubled him up till +his hunch protruded upward like a camel's. + +"She does not go about at all now," I said freezingly. But this set +Yarchi cachinnating worse than ever. + +"He daren't trust even his own disciples, you see! Ha! ha! ha!" + +"Yarchi!" I cried angrily, "you know Bethulah must be kept sacred from +this rabble," and I switched with my riding-whip at the poppies that +grew among the maize in the little front garden, as if they were +pilgrims and I a Tarquin. + +"Yes, I know that's Ben David's game. But I wish some man would marry +her and ruin his business. Ha! ha! ha!" + +"It would ruin yours too," I reminded him, more angrily. "You are +ready enough to let lodgings to the pilgrims." + +Yarchi shrugged his hump. "If fools are fools, wise men are wise men," +he replied oracularly. + +I strode away, but he had heated my brain with a new idea, or one that +I now allowed myself to see clearly. Some man might marry her. Then +why should I not be that man? Why should I not carry Bethulah back to +America with me--the most precious curiosity of the Old World--a +frank, virginal creature with that touch of the angel which I had +dreamed of but had never met among our smart girls--up to then. And +even if it were true that Ben David was a fraud, and needed the girl +for his Cabalistic mystifications, even so I was rich enough to recoup +him. The girl herself was no conscious accessory; of that I felt +certain. + +When my brain cooled, suggestions of the other aspects of the question +began to find entrance. What of Bethulah herself? Why should she care +to marry me? Or to go to the strange, raw country? And such a +union--was it not too incongruous, too fantastic, for practical life? +Thus I wrestled with myself for three days, all the while watching +Bethulah's turret or the roads she might come by. On the third night I +saw a wild mob of men at the turret end of the house, dancing in a +ring and singing, with their eyes turned upward to the light that +burnt on high. Their words I could not catch at first through the +tumultuous howl, but it went on and on, like their circumvolutions, +over and over again, till my brain reeled. It seemed to be an appeal +to Bethulah to plead their cause on the coming _Yom-Hadin_ (New-Year +day of Judgment):-- + + "By thy soul without sin, + Enter heaven within, + This divine _Yom-Hadin_, + Holy Maid. + + "Undertake thou our plea; + Let the Poison God be + Answered stoutly by thee, + Holy Queen." + +When I came to write this down afterward, I discovered it was an +acrostic on her name, as is customary with festival prayers. And this +I have preserved in my rough translation. + + +V + +Despite my new spiritual insight, I could not bring myself to +sympathize with such crude earthly visionings of the heavenly judgment +bar (doubtless borrowed from the book of Job, which our enlightened +Western rabbis rightly teach to be allegorical). Temporary absorption +into the Over-Soul seemed to me to sum up the limits of _Chassidic_ +experience. Besides, Bethulah was not a being to be employed as a sort +of supernatural advocate, but a sad, tender creature needing love and +protection. + +This mob howling outside my lady's chamber added indignation to my +strange passion for this beautiful "sister of the shroud." I would +rescue her from this grotesque environment. I would go to her father +and formally demand her hand, as, I had learnt, was the custom among +these people. I slept upon the resolution, yet in the morning it was +still uncrumpled; and immediately after breakfast I took my stand +among the jostling crowd outside the turreted house, and unfairly +secured precedence by a gold piece slipped into the palm of the +doorkeeper. The scribe I found stationed in the ante-chamber made me +write my wish on a piece of paper, which, however, I was instructed to +carry in myself. + +Ben David was seated in a curious soft-cushioned, high-backed chair, +with the intersecting triangles making a carved apex to it, but +otherwise there was no mark of what Yarchi would have called +charlatanism. His face, set between a black velvet biretta and the +white masses of his beard, had the dignity with which it had first +impressed me, and his long, fur-trimmed robe gave him an air of +mediĉval wisdom. + +"Peace be to you, long-lingering stranger," he said, though his green +eyes glittered ominously. + +"Peace," I murmured uneasily. + +With his left hand he put the still folded paper to his brow. I +watched the light playing on the Persian emerald seal of the ring on +the forefinger of his right hand. Suddenly I perceived he too was +looking at the stone--nay, into it--and that while that continued to +glitter, his own eyes had grown glazed. + +"Strange, strange," he muttered. "Again I see the fiery wheels, and +the strange soul fashioned of Satan that dwells neither in heaven nor +in hell." And his eyes lit up terribly again and rolled like fiery +wheels. + +"What do you want?" he cried harshly. + +"It is written on the paper," I faltered, "just two words." + +He opened the paper and read out, "Your daughter!" His eyes rolled +again. "What know you of my daughter?" + +"Oh, I know all about her," I said airily. + +"Then you know that my daughter does not receive pilgrims." + +"Nay, 'tis I that wish to receive your daughter," I ventured jocosely, +with a touch of levity I did not feel. He raised his clinched hand as +if to strike me, and I had a lurid sense of three green eyes glaring +at me. I stood my ground as coolly as possible, and said, in dry, +formal tones, "I wish to make application for her hand." + +A great blackness came over the frosted visage, as if his black +biretta had been suddenly drawn forward, and his erst blanched +eyebrows gloomed like a black lightning-cloud over the baleful eyes. + +I shrank back, then I had a sudden vision of the wagons clattering +down Broadway in a live, sunlit, go-ahead world, and the Wonder Rabbi +turned into an absurd old parent with a beautiful daughter and a bad +temper. + +"I am a man of substance," I went on dryly. "In my country I have fat +lands." + +The horribleness of thus bidding for Bethulah flashed on me even as I +spoke. To mix up a creature of mist and moonlight with substance and +fat lands! Monstrous! And yet I knew that thus, and thus only, by +honourable talk with her guardian, could a Zloczszol bride be won. + +But the Wonder Rabbi sprang to his feet so vehemently that his +high-backed chair rocked as in a gale. + +"Dog!" he shrieked. "Blasphemer!" + +I summoned all my American sang-froid. + +"Dog," I agreed, "inasmuch as I follow your daughter like a dog, +humbly, lovingly. But blasphemer? Say rather worshipper. For I worship +Bethulah." + +"Then worship her like the others," he roared. Had I not heard him +pray, I should have expected the hoary patriarch to collapse after +such an outburst. + +"Thank you," I said. "I don't want her to fly up to heaven for me. I +want her to come down to earth--from her turret." + +"She will not come down to any earthly spouse," he said more gently. +"Quite the reverse." + +"Then I will make a soul-ascension," I said defiantly. + +"Get back to hell, spawn of Satan!" he thundered again. "Or since, +strange son of the New World, you neither believe nor disbelieve, +hover eternally between hell and heaven!" + +"Meantime I am here," I said good-humouredly, "between you and your +daughter. Come, come, be sensible; you are a very old man. Where in +Zloczszol will you find a superior husband for your child?" + +"The Lord, to whom she is consecrated, forgive you your blasphemy," he +said, in a changed voice, and rang his bell, so that the next +applicant came in and I had to go. + +It was plain the girl was kept as a sacred celibate, a sort of vestal +virgin--Bethulah was the very Hebrew for virgin, it suddenly flashed +upon me. But how came such practices into Judaism--Judaism, with its +cheery creed, "increase and multiply?" And _Chassidism_, I had +hitherto imagined, was the cheeriness of Judaism concentrated! In +Yarchi's version it was even license--"the Adamite life." I raked up +my memories of the Bible--remembered Jephtha's daughter. But no! there +could be no question of a vow; this was some new _Chassidic_ mystery. +The crown and the shroud! The shroud of renunciation, the crown of +victory! + +And for some fantastic shadow-myth a beautiful young life was to be +immolated. My respect for _Chassidism_ vanished as suddenly as it +came. + +But I was powerless. I could only wait till the flood of pilgrims +oozed back, even as the waters had done. Then perhaps Bethulah might +walk again upon the moonlit mountain-peak, or in the "house of life," +as the cemetery was mystically called. + +The penitential season, with its trumpets and terrors, +judgment-writings and sealings, was over at last, and Tabernacles came +like a breath of air and nature. Yarchi hammered up a little wooden +booth in the corner of his front garden, and hung grapes and oranges +and flowers from its loose roof of boughs, through which the stars +peeped at us as we ate. It struck me as a very pretty custom, and I +wondered why American Judaism had let it fall into desuetude. Ere the +break-up of these booths the pilgrims had begun to melt away, the old +sleepiness to fall upon Zloczszol. + +Hence I was startled one morning by the passage of a joyous procession +that carried torches and played on flutes and tambourines. I ran out +and discovered that I was part of a wedding procession escorting a +bride. As this was a company not of _Chassidim_, but of everyday Jews, +bound for the little Gothic synagogue, I was surprised, despite my +experience of the Tabernacles, to find such picturesque goings-on, and +I went all the way to the courtyard, where the rabbi came out to meet +us with the bridegroom, who, it seemed, had already been conducted +hither with parallel pomp. The happy youth--for he could only have +been sixteen--was arrayed in festival finery, with white shoes on his +feet and black phylacteries on his forehead, which was further +over-gloomed by a cowl. He took the bride's hand, and then we all +threw wheat over their heads, crying three times, "_Peru, Urvu_" (Be +fruitful and multiply). But just when I expected the ceremony to +begin, the bride was snatched away, and we all filed into the +synagogue to await her return. + +I had fallen into a mournful reverie--perhaps the suggestion of my own +infelicitous romance was too strong--when I felt a stir of excitement +animating my neighbours, and, looking up, lo! I saw a tall female +figure in a white shroud, with a veiled face, and on her head a crown +of roses and myrtles and olive branches. A shiver ran through me. +"Bethulah!" I cried half-aloud. My neighbours smiled, and as I +continued to stare at the figure, I saw it was only the bride, thus +transmogrified for the wedding canopy. And then some startling half +comprehension came to me. Bethulah's dress was a bride's dress, then. +She was made to appear a perpetual bride. Of whom? To what Cabalistic +mystery was this the key? The Friday night hymn sprang to my mind. + + "Oh, come, my beloved, to meet the Bride, + The face of the Sabbath let us welcome." + +For a moment I thought I held the solution, and that my very first +conjecture had been warranted. The Holy Queen Sabbath was also +typified as the Sabbath Bride, and this dual allegory it was that +Bethulah incarnated. Or perchance it was Israel, the Bride of God! + +But I was still dissatisfied. I felt that the truth lay deeper than a +mere poetic metaphor or a poetical masquerading. I discovered it at +last, but at the risk of my life. + + +VI + +I continued to walk nightly on the narrow path between the mountain +and the river, like the ghost of one drowned, but without a glimpse of +Bethulah. At last it grew plain that her father had warned her against +me, that she had changed the hour of her exercise and soul-ascension, +or even the place. I was indebted to accident for my second vision of +this strange creature. + +I had diverted myself by visiting the neighbouring village, a +refreshing contrast to Jewish Zloczszol, from the rough garland-hung +wayside crosses (which were like sign-posts to its gilt-towered +church) to the peasant women in pink aprons and top boots. + +A marvellous sunset was well-nigh over as I struck the river-side that +curved homewards. The bank was here very steep, the river running as +between cliffs. In the sky great drifts of gold-flushed cloud hung +like relics of the glory that had been, and the autumn leaves that +muffled my mare's footsteps seemed to have fallen from the sunset. In +the background the white peak of the mountain was slowly parting with +its volcanic splendour. And low on the horizon, like a small lake of +fire in the heart of a tangled bush, the molten sun showed monstrous +and dazzling. + +And straight from the sunset over the red leaves Bethulah came +walking, rapt as in prophetic thought, shrouded and crowned, preceded +by a long shadow that seemed almost as intangible. + +I reined in my horse and watched the apparition with a great flutter +at my heart. And as I gazed, and thought of her grotesque worshippers, +it was borne in upon me how unbefittingly Nature had peopled her +splendid planet. The pageantry of dawn and sunset, of seas and +mountains, how incongruous a framework for our petty breed, sordidly +crawling under the stars. Bethulah alone seemed fitted to the high +setting of the scene. She matched this lone icy peak, this fiery +purity. + +"Bethulah!" I said, as she was almost upon my horse. + +She looked up, and a little cry that might have been joy or surprise +came from her lips. But by the smile that danced in her eyes and the +blood that leapt to her cheeks, I saw with both joy and surprise that +this second meeting was as delightful to her as to me. + +But the conscious Bethulah hastened to efface what the unconscious had +revealed. "It is not right of you, stranger, to linger here so long," +she said, frowning. + +"I am your shadow," I replied, "and must linger where you linger." + +"But you are indeed a shadow, my father says--a being fashioned of the +Poison God to work us woe." + +"No, no," I said, laughing; "my horse bears no shadow. And the Poison +God who fashioned me is not the absurd horned and tailed tempter you +have been taught to believe in, but a little rosy-winged god, with a +bow and poisoned arrows." + +"A little rosy-winged god?" she said. "I know of none such." + +"And you know not of what you are queen," I retorted, smiling. + +"There is but one God," she insisted, with sweet seriousness. "See, He +burns in the bush, yet it is not consumed." + +She pointed to where the red sinking sun seemed to eat out the heart +of the bush through which we saw it. + +"Thus this love-god burns in our hearts," I said, lifted up into her +poetic strain, "and we are not consumed, only glorified." + +I strove to touch her hand, which had dropped caressingly on my +horse's neck. But she drew back with a cry. + +"I may not listen. This is the sinful talk my father warned me of. +Fare you well, stranger." And with swift step she turned homewards. + +I sat still a minute or two, half-disconcerted, half-content to gaze +at her gracious motions; then I touched the mare with my heel, and she +bounded off in pursuit. But at this instant three men in long +gabardines and great round velvet hats started forward from the +thicket, shouting and waving lighted pine-branches, and my frightened +animal reared and plunged, and then broke into a mad gallop, making +straight for the river curve between the cliffs. I threw myself back +in the saddle, tugging desperately at the creature's mouth; but I +might have been a child pulling at an elephant. I shook my feet free +of the stirrups and prepared to tumble off as best I could, rather +than risk the plunge into the river, when a projecting bough made me +duck my head instinctively; but as I passed under it, with another +instinctive movement I threw out my hands to clasp it, and, despite a +violent wrench that seemed to pull my arms out of their sockets and +swung my feet high forward, I hung safely. The mare, eased of my +weight, was at the river-side the next instant, and with a wild, +incredible leap alighted with her forefeet and the bulk of her body on +the other bank, up which she scraped convulsively, and then stood +still, trembling and sweating. I could not get at her, so, trusting +she would find her way home safely, I dropped to the ground and ran +back, with a mixed idea of finding Bethulah and chastising the three +scoundrels. But all were become invisible. + +I walked half a mile across the plain to get to the rough pine bridge; +and, once on the other bank, I had no difficulty in recovering the +mare. She cantered up to me, indeed, and put her soft and still +perspiring nose in my palm and whinnied her apologetic congratulations +on our common escape. + +I rode slowly home, reflecting on the new turn in my love affairs, for +it was plain that Bethulah had now been provided with a body-guard, of +which she was as unconscious as of her body itself. + +But for the apparent necessity of her making soul-ascensions under +God's heaven, I supposed she would not have been allowed to take the +air at all with such a creature of Satan hovering. + +I stood sunning myself the next day on the same pine bridge, looking +down on the swift current, and regretting there was no rail to lean on +as one watched the fascinating flow of the beautiful river. It struck +me as inordinately blue,--perhaps, I analyzed, by contrast with the +long, sinuous weeds which here glided and tossed in the current like +green water-snakes. These flexible greens reminded me of the Wonder +Rabbi's eyes and his emerald seal; and I turned, with some sudden +premonition of danger, just in time to dodge the attack of the same +three ruffians, who must have been about to push me over. + +In an instant I had whipped out my pistol from my hip pocket, and +cried, "Stand, or I fire!" + +The trio froze instantly in odd attitudes, which was lucky, as my +pistol was unloaded. They looked almost comical in their air of abject +terror. Their narrow, fanatical foreheads, with ringlets of piety +hanging down below the velvet, fur-trimmed hats, showed them more +accustomed to murdering texts than men. Had I not been still +smouldering over yesterday's trick, I could have pitied them for the +unwelcome job thrust upon their unskilled and apparently even +unweaponed hands by the machinations of the Poison God and the orders +of Ben David. One of them seemed quite elderly, and one quite young. +The middle-aged one had a goitre, and perhaps that made me fancy him +the most sinister, and keep my eye most warily upon him. + +"Sons of Belial," I said, recalling a biblical phrase that might be +expected to prick, "why do you seek my life?" + +Two of them cowered under my gaze, but the elderly _Chassid_, seeing +the shooting was postponed, spoke up boldly: "We are no sons of +Belial. You are the begotten of Satan; you are the arch enemy of +Israel." + +"I?" I protested in my turn. "I am a plain God-fearing son of +Abraham." + +"A precious scion of the Patriarch's seed, who would delay the coming +of the Messiah!" + +Again that incomprehensible accusation. + +"You speak riddles," I said. + +"How so? Did you not tell Ben David--his horn be exalted--that you +knew all concerning Bethulah? Then must you know that of her +immaculacy will the Messiah be born, one ninth of Ab." + +A flood of light burst upon me--mystic, yet clarifying; blinding, yet +dissipating my darkness. My pistol drooped in my hand. My head swam +with a whirl of strange thoughts, and Bethulah, already divine to me, +took on a dazzling aureola, sailed away into some strange supernatural +ether. + +"Have we not been in exile long enough?" said the youngest. "Shall a +godless stranger tamper with the hope of generations?" + +"But whence this mad hope?" I said, struggling under the mystic +obsession of his intensity. + +"Mad?" began the first, his eyes spitting fire; but the younger +interrupted him. + +"Is not our saint the sole scion of the house of David? Is not his +daughter the last of the race?" + +"And what if she is?" + +"Then who but she can be the destined mother of Israel's Redeemer?" + +The goitred _Chassid_ opened his lips and added, "If not now, when? as +Hillel asked." + +"In our days at last must come the crowning glory of the house of Ben +David," the young man went on. "For generations now, since the signs +have pointed to the millennium, have the daughters of the house been +kept unwedded." + +"What!" I cried. "Generations of _Bethulahs_ have been sacrificed to a +dream!" + +Again the eyes of the first _Chassid_ dilated dangerously. I raised my +pistol, but hastened to ask, in a more conciliatory tone, "Then how +has the line been carried on?" + +"Through the sons, of course," said the young _Chassid_. "Now for the +first time there are no sons, and only one daughter remains, the +manifest vessel of salvation." + +I tried to call up that image of bustling Broadway that had braced me +in colloquy with the old Wonder Rabbi, but it seemed shadowy now, +compared with this world of solid spiritualities which begirt me. +Could it be the same planet on which such things went on +simultaneously? Or perhaps I was dreaming, and these three grotesque +creatures were the product of Yarchi's cookery. + +But their hanging curls had a daylight definiteness, and down in the +sunlit, translucent river I could see every shade of colour, from the +green of the sinuous reed-snakes to the brown of the moss patches. + +On the bank walked two crows, and I noted for the first time with what +comic pomposity they paced, their bodies bent forward like two +important old gentlemen with their hands in the pockets of their black +coat tails. They brought a smile to my face, but a menacing movement +of the _Chassidim_ warned me to be careful. + +"And does the girl know all this?" I asked hurriedly. + +"She did not yesterday," said the elderly fellow. "Now she has been +told." + +There was another long pause. I meditated rapidly but disjointedly, +having to keep an eye against a sudden rush of my assailants, and +mistrusting the goitred saint yet the more because he was so silent. + +"And is Bethulah content with her destiny?" I asked. + +"She is in the seventh heaven," said the elderly saint. + +I had a poignant shudder of incredulous protest. I recalled the flush +of her sweet face at the sight of me, and brief as our meetings had +been, I dared to feel that the irrevocable thrill had passed between +us; that the rest would have been only a question of time. + +"Let Bethulah tell me so herself," I cried, "and I will leave her in +her heaven." + +The men looked at one another. Then the eldest shook his head. "No; +you shall never speak to her again." + +"We have maidens more beautiful among us," said the young man. "You +shall have your choice. Ay, even my own betrothed would I give you." + +I flicked aside his suggestion. "But you cannot prevent Bethulah +walking under God's heaven." They looked dismayed. "I will meet her," +I said, pursuing my advantage. "And Yarchi and other good Jews shall +be at hand." + +"She shall be removed elsewhere," said the first. + +"I will track her down. Ah, you are afraid," I said mockingly. "You +see it is not true that she is content to be immolated." + +"It is true," they muttered. + +"True as the Torah," added the elderly man. + +"Then there is no harm in her telling me so." + +"You may bear her off on your horse," said he of the goitre. + +"I will go on foot. Let her bid me go away, and I will leave +Zloczszol." + +Again they looked at one another, and the relief in their eyes brought +heart-sinking into mine. Yes, it was true. Bethulah was in the glow of +a great surrender; she was still tingling with the revelation of her +supreme destiny. To put her to the test now would be fatal. No; let +her have time to meditate; ay, even to disbelieve. + +"To-morrow you shall speak with her, and no man shall know," said the +oldest _Chassid_. + +"No, not to-morrow. In a week or two." + +"Ah, you wish to linger among us," he replied suspiciously. + +"I will go away till the appointed day," I replied readily. + +"Good. Continue your travels. Let us say a month, or even two." + +"If you will not spirit her away in my absence." + +"It is as easy to do so in your presence." + +"So be it." + +"Shall we say--the eve of Chanukah?" he suggested. + +It was my turn to regard him suspiciously. But I could see nothing to +cavil at. He had merely mentioned an obvious date--that of the next +festival landmark. Chanukah--the feast of rededication of the Temple +after the Grecian pollution--the miracle of the unwaning oil, the +memorial lighting of lights; there seemed nothing in these to work +unduly upon the girl's soul, except in so far as the inspiring +tradition of Judas Maccabĉus might attach her more devotedly to her +conceptions of duty and self-dedication. Perhaps, I thought, with a +flash of jealous anger, they meditated a feast of rededication of her +after the pollution of my presence had been removed. Well, we should +see. + +"The eve of Chanukah," I agreed, with a nonchalant air. "Only let the +place be where I first met her--the path 'twixt mountain and river as +you go to the cemetery." + +That would at least be a counter-influence to Chanukah! As they +understood none of the subtleties of love, they agreed to this, and I +made them swear by the Name. + +When they went their way I stood pondering on the bridge, my empty +pistol drooping in my hand, till sky and river glowed mystically as +with blood, and the chill evening airs reminded me that November was +nigh. + + +VII + +I got to Warsaw and back in the time at my disposal, but not all the +freshness and variety of my experiences could banish the thought of +Bethulah. There were days when I could absorb myself in the passing +panorama, but I felt always, so to speak, in the ante-chamber of the +great moment of our third and decisive meeting. + +And with every shortening day of December that moment approached. Yet +I all but missed it when it came. A snowfall I might easily have +foreseen retarded my journey at the eleventh hour, but my faithful +mare ploughed her way through the white morasses. As she munched her +mid-day corn in that quaint Christian village that neighboured +Zloczszol, and in which I had agreed to stable her, it was borne in on +me for the first time that the eve of Chanukah was likewise Christmas +eve. I wondered vaguely if there was any occult significance in the +coincidence or in the _Chassidic_ choice of dates; but it was too late +now to protest, and loading my pistol against foul play, I hurried to +the rendezvous. + +On the dark barren base of the mountain, patches of snow gleamed like +winter blossoms; the gargoyle-like faces of the jags of rock on the +river-bank were white-bearded with icicles. Down below the stream +raced, apparently as turbid as ever, but suddenly, as it made a sharp +curve and came under a thick screen of snow-laden boughs interarching +over the cleft, it grew glazed in death. + +The sight of Bethulah was as of a spirit of sunshine moving across the +white desolation. Her tall lone shadow fell blue upon the snowy path. +She was swathed now in splendid silver furs, from which her face shone +out like a tropical flower beneath its wreathed crown. + +Dignity and sovereignty had subtly replaced the grace of her movement, +her very stature seemed aggrandized by the consciousness of her unique +mission. + +She turned, and her virginal eyes met mine with abashing purity, and +in that instant of anguished rapture I knew that my quest was vain. +The delicate flush of joy and surprise touched her cheeks, indeed, as +before, but this time I felt it would not be succeeded by terror. +Self-conscious now, self-poised, she stood regally where she had +faltered and fled. + +"You return to spend Chanukah with us," she said. + +"I came," I said, with uneasy bravado, "in the hope of spending it +elsewhere--with you." + +"But you know that cannot be," she said gently. + +Ah, now she knew of what she was queen. But revolt was hot in my +heart. + +"Then they have made you share their dream," I said bitterly. + +"Yes," she replied, with unruffled sweetness. "How beautiful upon the +mountains are the feet of those that bring good tidings!" And her +eyes shone in exultation. + +"They were messengers of evil," I said--"whisperers of untruth. Life +is for love and joy." + +"Ah, no!" she urged tremulously. "Surely you know the world--how full +it is of suffering and sin." And as with an unconscious movement, she +threw back her splendid furs, revealing the weird shroud. "Ah, what +ecstasy to think that the divine day will come, ere I am old, when, as +it is written in the twenty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, '_He will destroy +in this mountain the face of the covering cast over all people, and +the vail that is spread over all nations. He will swallow up death in +victory: and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and +the rebuke of His people shall He take away from off all the earth: +for the Lord hath spoken._'" + +Her own eyes were full of tears, which I yearned to kiss away. + +"But your own life meantime?" I said softly. + +"My life--does it not already take on the glory of God as this +mountain the coming day?" + +She seemed indeed akin to the cold white peak as I had seen it flushed +with sunrise. My passion seemed suddenly prosaic and selfish. I was +lifted up into the higher love that worships and abnegates. + +"God bless you!" I said, and turning away with misty vision, saw, +creeping off, the three dark fanatical figures. + + +VIII + +Half a century later I was startled to find the name of Zloczszol in a +headline of the Sunday edition of my American paper. + +I had married, and was even a grandfather; for after my return to +America the world of Bethulah had grown fantastic, stupidly +superstitious, and, finally, shadowy and almost unreal. Years and +years of happiness had dissipated and obliterated the delicate +fragrant dream of spiritual love. + +But that strange long-forgotten name stirred instantly the sleeping +past to life. I adjusted my spectacles and read the column eagerly. It +was sensational enough, though not more so than a hundred columns of +calamities in unknown places that one skips or reads with the mildest +of thrills. + +The long-threatened avalanche had fallen, and Nature had once more +rudely reminded man of his puny place in creation. Rare conditions had +at last come together. First a slight fall of snow, covering the +mountain--how vividly I pictured it!--then a sharp frost which had +frozen this deposit; after that a measureless, blinding snow-storm and +a cyclonic wind. When all seemed calm again, the second mass of snow +had begun to slide down the frozen surface of the first, quickening to +a terrific pace, tearing down the leafless trunks and shooting them at +the village like giant arrows of the angry gods. One of these arrows +penetrated the trunk of a great cedar on the plain and stuck out on +both sides, making a sort of cross, which the curious came from far +and near to see. But, alas! the avalanche had not contented itself +with such freakish manifestations; it had annihilated the new portion +of the village which had dared crawl nearer the mountain when the +railroad--a railroad in Zloczszol!--had found it cheaper to pass near +the base than to make a circuit round the congested portion! + +Alas! the cheapness was illusory. The dépôt with its crowd had been +wiped out as by the offended Fury of the mountain; though by another +freakish incident, illustrating the Titanic forces at work, yet the +one redeeming detail of the appalling catastrophe, a small train of +three carriages that had just moved off was lifted up bodily by the +terrible wind that raced ahead of the monstrous sliding snowball, and +was clapped down in a field out of its reach, as if by a protecting +hand. Not a creature on it was injured. + +I had passed the years allotted to man by the Psalmist, and my memory +of the things of yesterday had begun to be faint and elusive, but the +images of my Zloczszol adventure returned with a vividness that grew +daily more possessive. What had become of Bethulah? Was she alive? Was +she dead? And which were the sadder alternative--to have felt the +darkness of early death closing round the great hope, or to have +survived its possibility, and old, bent, bitter, and deserted by her +followers, to await the lesser disenchantment of the grave? + +An irresistible instinct impelled me--aged as I was myself--to revisit +alone these scenes of my youth, to see how fate had rounded or broken +off its grim ironic story. + +I pass over the stages of the journey, at the conclusion of which I +found myself again in the mountain village. Alas! The changes on the +route had prepared me for the change in Zloczszol. Railroads threw +their bridges over the gorges I had climbed, telegraph poles tamed the +erst savage forest ways. And Zloczszol itself had now, by the line +passing through it, expanded into a trading centre, with vitality +enough to recuperate quickly from the avalanche. The hotel was clean +and commodious, but I could better have endured that ancient +sitting-room in which the squalling baby was rocked. Strange, I could +see its red wrinkled face, catch the very timbre of its piping cries! +Only the mountain was unchanged, and the pines and firs that had +whispered dreams to my youth whispered sleep to my age. Ah, how frail +and futile is the life of man! He passes like a shadow, and the green +sunlit earth he trod on closes over him and takes the tread of the new +generations. What had I to say to these new, smart people in +Zloczszol? No, the dead were my gossips and neighbours. For me more +than the avalanche had desolated Zloczszol. I repaired to the +cemetery. There I should find Yarchi. It was no use looking for him +under the porch of the pine cottage. And there, too, I should in all +likelihood find Bethulah! + +But Ben David's tomb was the first I found, carved with the +intersecting triangles. The date showed he had died very soon after my +departure; perhaps, I thought remorsefully, my importunities had +agitated him too much. Ah! there at last was Yarchi. Under a high +white stone he slept as soundly as any straight corpse. His sneering +mouth had crumbled to dust, but I would have given much to hear it +once more abuse the _Chassidim_. Propped on my stick and poring over +the faded gilt letters, I recalled "the handsome stranger" whom the +years had marred. But of Bethulah I saw no sign. I wandered back and +found the turreted house, but it had been converted into a large +store, and from Bethulah's turret window hung a great advertising +sky-sign. + +I returned cheerlessly to the hotel, but as the sun began to pierce +auspiciously through the bleakness of early March, I was about to +sally forth again in the direction of Yarchi's ancient cottage, when +the porter directed me--as if I were a mere tourist--to go to see the +giant cedar of Lebanon with its Titanic arrow. However, I followed his +instructions, and pretty soon I espied the broad-girthed tree towering +over its field, with the foreign transpiercing trunk about fifteen +feet from the ground, making indeed a vast cross. Leaning against the +sunlit cedar was a white-robed figure, and as I hobbled nearer I saw +by the shroud and the crown of flowers that I had found Bethulah. + +At my approach she drew herself up in statuesque dignity, upright as +Ben David of yore, and looked at me with keen unclouded eyes. There +was a wondrous beauty of old age in her face and bearing. The silver +hair banded on the temples glistened picturesquely against the reds +and greens and golds of her crown. + +"Ah, stranger!" she said, with a gracious smile. "You return to us." + +"You recognize me?" I mumbled, in amaze. + +"It is the face I loved in youth," she said simply. + +Strange, happy, wistful tears sprang to my old eyes--some blurred +sense of youth and love and God. + +"Your youth seems with you still," I said. "Your face is as sweet, +your voice as full of music." + +The old ecstatic look lit up her eyes. "It is God who keeps me ever +young, till the great day dawns." + +I was taken aback. What! She believed still! That alternative had not +figured in my prevision of pathetic closes. I was silent, but the old +tumult of thought raged within me. + +"But is not the day passed forever?" I murmured at last. + +The light in her eyes became queenly fire. + +"While there is life," she cried, "in the veins of the house of Ben +David!" And as she spoke my eye caught the gleam of the Persian +emerald on her forefinger. + +"And your worshippers--what of them?" I asked. + +Her eyes grew sad. "After my father's death--his memory for a +blessing!--the pilgrims fell off, and when the years passed without +the miracle, his followers even here in Zloczszol began to weaken. And +slowly a new generation arose, impatient and lax, which believed not +in the faith of their forefathers and mocked my footsteps, saying, +'Behold! the dreamer cometh!' And then the black fire-monster came, +whizzing daily to and fro on the steel lines and breathing out fumes +of unfaith, and the young men said lo! there is our true Redeemer. +Wherefore, as the years waxed and waned, until at last advancing Death +threw his silver shadow on my hair, even the faithful grew to doubt, +and they said, 'But a few short years more and death must claim her, +her mission unfulfilled, and the lamp of Israel's hope shattered +forever. Perchance it is we that have misunderstood the prophecies. +Not here, not here, shall God's great miracle be wrought; this is not +holy ground. "For the Lord dwelleth in Zion,"' they cried with the +Prophets. Only on the sacred soil, outside of which God has never +revealed himself, only in Palestine, they said, can Israel's Redeemer +be born. As it is written, 'But upon Mount Zion shall be deliverance, +and there shall be holiness.' + +"Then these and the scoffers persuaded me, seeing that I waxed very +old, and I sold my father's house--now grown of high value--to obtain +the money for the journey, and I made ready to start for Jerusalem. +There had been a whirlwind and a great snow the day before and I would +have tarried, but they said I must arrive in the Holy City ere the eve +of Chanukah. And putting off my shroud and my crown, seeing that only +in Jerusalem I might be a bride, I trusted myself to the fire-monster, +and a vast company went with me to the starting-place--both of those +who believed that salvation was of Zion and those who scoffed. But the +monster had scarcely crawled out under God's free heaven than God's +hand lifted me up and those with me--for my blessedness covered +them--and put us down very far off, while a great white thunder-bolt +fell upon the building and upon the scoffers and upon those who had +prated of Zion, and behold! they were not. The multitude of Moab was +as straw trodden down for the dunghill, and the high fort of the +fire-monster was brought down and laid low and brought to the ground, +even to the dust. Then arose a great cry from all the town and the +mountain, and a rending of garments and a weeping in sackcloth. And +many returned to the faith in me, for God's hand has shown that here, +and not elsewhere, is the miracle to be wrought. As it is written, +word for word, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Isaiah:-- + +"'_And He will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering cast +over all people, and the vail that is spread over all nations. He will +swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God shall wipe away tears +from off all faces: and the rebuke of His people shall He take away +from off all the earth: for the Lord hath spoken it. And it shall be +said in that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for Him, and He +will save us: this is the Lord; we have waited for Him, we will be +glad and rejoice in His salvation. For in this mountain shall the hand +of the Lord rest, and Moab shall be trodden down under Him, even as +straw is trodden down for the dunghill. And He shall spread forth His +hands in the midst of them, as he that swimmeth spreadeth forth to +swim: and He shall bring down their pride together with the spoils of +their hands. And the fortress of the high fort of thy walls shall He +bring down, lay low, and bring to the ground, even to the dust._' + +"And here in this cedar of Lebanon, transplanted like Israel under the +shadow of this alien mountain, the Lord has shot a bolt, for a sign to +all that can read. And here I come daily to pray, and to await the +divine moment." + +She ceased, and her eyes turned to the now stainless heaven. And as I +gazed upon her shining face it seemed to me that the fresh flowers and +leaves of her crown, still wet with the dew, seen against that garment +of death and the silver of decaying life, were symbolic of an undying, +ever rejuvenescent hope. + + +IX + +A last surprise awaited me. Bethulah now lived all alone in Yarchi's +pine cottage, which the years had left untouched. + +Whether accident or purpose settled her there I do not know, but my +heart was overcharged with mingled emotion as I went up the garden the +next day to pay her a farewell visit. The poppies flaunted riotously +amid the neglected maize, but the cottage itself seemed tidy. + +It was the season when the cold wrinkled lips of winter meet the first +kiss of spring, and death is passing into resurrection. It was the +hour when the chill shadows steal upon the sunlit day. In the sky was +the shot purple of a rolling moor, merging into a glow of lovely +green. + +I stood under the porch where Yarchi had been wont to sun and snuff +himself, and knocked at the door, but receiving no answer, I lifted +the latch softly and looked in. + +Bethulah was at her little table, her head lying on a great old Bible +which her arms embraced. One long finger of departing sunlight pointed +through the window and touched the flowers on the gray hair. I stole +in with a cold fear that she was dead. But she seemed only asleep, +with that sleep of old age which is so near to death and is yet the +renewal of life. + +I was curious to see what she had been reading. It was the eighteenth +chapter of Genesis, and in the shadow of her crown ran the verses:-- + +"_And the Lord said unto Abraham, Wherefore did Sarah laugh, saying, +Shalt I of a surety bear a child, which am old?_ + +"_Is anything too hard for the Lord?_" + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VII + +THE KEEPER OF CONSCIENCE + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VII + +THE KEEPER OF CONSCIENCE + + +I + +Salvina Brill walked to and fro in the dingy Hackney Terrace, waiting +till her mother should return with the house-key. So far as change of +scene was concerned the little pupil-teacher might as well have stood +still. Everywhere bow-windows, Venetian blinds, little front +gardens--all that had represented domestic grandeur to her after a +childhood of apartments in Spitalfields, though her subsequent glimpse +of the West End home in which her sister Kitty was governess, had made +her dazedly aware of Alps beyond Alps. + +Though only seventeen, Salvina was not superficially sweet and could +win no consideration from the seated males in the homeward train, and +the heat of the weather and the crush of humanity--high hats +sandwiched between workmen's tool-baskets--had made her head ache. Her +day at the Whitechapel school had already been trying, and Thursday +was always heavy with the accumulated fatigues of the week. It was +unfortunate that her mother should be late, but she remembered how at +breakfast the good creature had promised father to make a little +excursion to the Borough and take a packet of tea to the house of some +distant relatives of his, who were sitting _shivah_ (seven days' +mourning). The non-possession of a servant made it necessary to lock +up the house and pull down the blinds, when its sole occupant went +visiting. + +After a few minutes of vain expectation, Salvina mechanically returned +to her Greek grammar, which opened as automatically at the irregular +verbs. She had just achieved the greatest distinction of her life, and +one not often paralleled in Board School girl-circles, by +matriculating at the London University. Hers was only a second-class +pass, but gained by private night-study, supplemented by some evening +lessons at the People's Palace, it was sufficiently remarkable; +especially when one considered she had still other subjects to prepare +for the Centres. Salvina was now audaciously aiming at the +Bachelorhood of Arts, for which the Greek verbs were far more +irregular. It was not only the love of knowledge that animated her: as +a bachelor she might become a head-mistress, nay, might even aspire to +follow the lead of her dashing elder sister and teach in a wealthy +family that treated you as one of itself. Not that Kitty had ever +matriculated, but an ugly duckling needs many plumes of learning ere +it can ruffle itself like a beautiful swan. + +Who should now come upon the promenading student but Sugarman the +Shadchan, his hand full of papers, and his blue bandanna trailing from +his left coat-tail! + +"Ah, you are the very person I was coming to see," he cried gleefully +in his corrupt German accent. "What is your sister's address now?" + +"Why?" said Salvina distrustfully. + +"I have a fine young man for her!" + +Salvina's pallid cheek coloured with modesty and resentment. "My +sister doesn't need your services." + +"Maybe not," said Sugarman, unruffled. "But the young man does. He saw +your sister once years ago, before he went to the Cape. Now he is a +_Takif_ (rich man) and wants a wife." + +"He's not rich enough to buy Kitty." Salvina's romantic soul was +outraged, and she spoke with unwonted asperity. + +"He is rich enough to buy Kitty all she wants. He is quite in love +with her--she can ask for anything." + +"Then let him go and tell her so himself. What does he come to you +for? He must be a very poor lover." + +"Poor! I tell you he is rolling in gold. It's the luckiest thing that +could have happened to your family. You will all ride in your +carriage. You ought to fall on your knees and bless me. Your sister is +not so young any more, at nineteen a girl can't afford to sniff. +Believe me there are thousands of girls who would jump at the +chance--yes, girls with dowries, too. And your sister hasn't a penny." + +"My sister has a heart and a soul," retorted Salvina witheringly, "and +she wants a heart and a soul to sympathize with hers, not a +money-bag." + +"Then, won't you take a ticket for the lotte_ree_?" rejoined Sugarman +pleasantly. "Then you get a money-bag of your own." + +"No, thank you." + +"Not even half a ticket? Only thirty-six shillings! You needn't pay me +now. I trust you." + +She shook her head. + +"But think--I may win you the great prize--a hundred thousand marks." + +The sum fascinated Salvina, and for an instant her imagination played +with its marvellous potentialities. They could all move to the +country, and there among the birds and the flowers she could study all +day long, and even try for a degree with Honours. Her father would be +saved from the cigar factory, her sister from exile amid strangers, +her mother should have a servant, her brother the wife he coveted. All +her Spitalfields circle had speculated through Sugarman, not without +encouraging hits. She smiled as she remembered the vendor of slippers +who had won sixty pounds and was so puffed up that when his wife +stopped in the street to speak to a shabby acquaintance, he cried +vehemently, "Betsey, Betsey, do learn to behave according to your +station." + +"You don't believe me?" said Sugarman, misapprehending her smile. "You +can read it all for yourself. A hundred thousand marks, so sure my +little Nehemiah shall see rejoicings. Look!" + +But Salvina waved back the thin rustling papers with their exotic +Continental flavour. "Gambling is wicked," she said. + +Sugarman was incensed. "Me in a wicked business! Why, I know more +Talmud than anybody in London, and can be called up the Law as +_Morenu_! You'll say marrying is wicked, next. But they are both State +Institutions. England is the only country in the world without a +lotte_ree_." + +Salvina wavered, but her instinct was repugnant to money that did not +accumulate itself by slow, painful economies, and her multifarious +reading had made the word "Speculation" a prism of glittering vice. + +"I daresay _you_ think it's not wrong," she said, "and I apologize if +I hurt your feelings. But don't you see how you go about unsettling +people?" + +"Me! Why, I settle them! And if you'd only give me your sister's +address--" + +His persistency played upon Salvina's delicate conscience; made her +feel she must not refuse the poor man everything. Besides, the grand +address would choke him off. + +"She's at Bedford Square, with the Samuelsons." + +"Ah, I know. Two daughters, Lily and Mabel," and Sugarman instead of +being impressed nodded his head, as if even the Samuelsons were +mortal and marriageable. + +"Yes, my sister is their governess and companion. But you'll only +waste your time." + +"You think so?" he said triumphantly. "Look at this likeness!" + +And he drew out the photograph of a coarse-faced middle-aged man, with +a jaunty flower in his frock-coat and a prosperous abdomen supporting +a heavily trinketed watch-chain. Underneath swaggered the signature, +"Yours truly, Moss M. Rosenstein." + +Salvina shuddered: "He was wise to send _you_," she said slyly. + +"Is it not so? Ah, and your brother, too, would have done better to +come to me instead of falling in love with a girl with a hundred +pounds. But I bear your family no grudge, you see. Perhaps it is not +too late yet. Tell Lazarus that if he should come to break with the +Jonases, there are better fish in the sea--gold fish, too. Good-bye. +We shall both dance at your sister's wedding." And he tripped off. + +Salvina resumed her Greek, but the grotesque aorists could not hold +her attention. She was hungry and worn out, and even when her mother +came, it would be some time before her evening meal could be prepared. +She felt she must sit down, if only on her doorsteps, but their +whiteness was inordinately marred as by many dirty boots--she wondered +whose and why--and she had to content herself with leaning against +the stucco balustrade. And gradually as the summer twilight faded, the +grammar dropped in her hand, and Salvina fell a-dreaming. + +What did she dream of, this Board School drudge, whose pasty face was +craned curiously forward on sloping shoulders? Was it of the enchanted +land of love of which Sugarman had reminded her, but over whose roses +he had tramped so grossly? Alas! Sugarman himself had never thought of +her as a client for any but the lottery section of his business. +Within, she was one glow of eager romance, of honour, of quixotic +duty, but no ray of this pierced without to give a sparkle to the eye, +a colour to the cheek. No faintest dash of coquetry betrayed the +yearning of the soul or gave grace to walk or gesture: her dress was +merely a tidy covering. Her exquisite sensibility found bodily +expression only as a clumsy shyness. + +Poor Salvina! + + +II + +At last the welcome jar and creak of the gate awoke her. + +"Why, I thought you knew I had to go to the Borough!" began a fretful +voice, forestalling reproach, and a buxom woman resplendent with black +satin and much jewellery came up the tiny garden-path. + +"It doesn't matter, mother--I haven't been waiting long." + +"Well, you know how difficult it is to get a 'bus in this weather--at +least if you want to sit outside, and it always makes my head ache +frightfully to go inside--I'm not strong and young like you--and such +a long way, I had to change at the Bank, and I made sure you'd get +something to eat at one of the girls', and go straight to the People's +Palace." + +Still muttering, Mrs. Brill produced a key, and after some fumbling +threw open the door. Both made a step within, then both stopped, +aghast. + +"It's the wrong house," thought Salvina confusedly, conscious of her +power of making such mistakes. + +"_Kisshuf_ (witchcraft)!" whispered her mother, terrified into her +native idiom. The passage lay before them, entirely bare of all its +familiar colour and furniture: the framed engravings depicting the +trials of William Lord Russell, in the Old Bailey, and Earl Stafford +in Westminster Hall, the flower-pots on the hall table, the proudly +purchased hat-rack, the metal umbrella-stand, all gone! And beyond, +facing them, lay the parlour, an equally forlorn vacancy striking like +a blast of chilly wind through its wide-open door. + +"Thieves!" cried Mrs. Brill, reverting from the supernatural and the +Yiddish. "Murder! I'm ruined! They've stolen my house!" + +"Hush! Hush!" said Salvina, strung to calm by her mother's +incoherence. "Let us see first what has really happened." + +"Happened! Haven't you got eyes in your head? All the fruit of my +years of toil!" And Mrs. Brill wrung her jewelled hands. "Your father +would have me call on those Sperlings, though I told him they'd be +glad to dance on my tomb. And why didn't Lazarus stay at home?" + +"You know he has to be out looking for work." + +"And my gilt clock that I trembled even to wind up, and the big vase +with the picture on it, and my antimacassars, and my beautiful couch +that nobody had ever sat upon! Oh my God, oh my God!" + +Leaving her mother moaning out a complete inventory in the passage, +Salvina advanced into the violated parlour. It was an aching void. On +the bare mantelpiece, just where the gilt clock had announced a +perpetual half-past two, gleamed an unstamped letter. She took it up +wonderingly. It was in her father's schoolboyish hand, addressed to +her mother. She opened it, as usual, for Mrs. Brill did not even know +the alphabet, and refused steadily to make its acquaintance, to the +ironic humiliation of the Board School teacher. + + "You would not let me give you _Get_," [ran the letter + abruptly], "so you have only yourself to blame. I have left the + clothes in the bed-rooms, but what is mine is mine. Good-bye. + + "MICHAEL BRILL. + + "P.S.--Don't try to find me at the factory. I have left." + +Salvina steadied herself against the mantelpiece till the room should +have finished reeling round. _Get!_ Her father had wanted to put away +her mother! Divorce, departure, devastation--what strange things were +these, come to wreck a prosperity so slowly built up! + +"Quick, Salvina, there goes a policeman!" came her mother's cry. + +The room stood still suddenly. "Hush, hush, mother," Salvina said +imperiously. "There's no thief!" She ran back into the passage, the +letter in her hand. + +A fierce flame of intelligence leapt into the woman's face. "Ah, it's +your father!" she cried. "I knew it, I knew he'd go after that painted +widow, just because she has a little money, a black curse on her +bones. Oh! oh! God in heaven! To bring such shame on me, for the sake +of a saucy-nosed slut whose sister sold ironmongery in Petticoat +Lane--a low lot, one and all, and not fit to wipe my shoes on, even +when she was respectable, and this is what you call a father, Salvina! +Oh my God, my God!" + +Salvina was by this time dazed, yet she had a gleam of consciousness +left with which to register this culminating destruction of all her +social landmarks. What! That monstrous wickedness of marquises and +epauletted officers which hovered vaguely in the shadow-land of novels +and plays had tumbled with a bang into real life; had fallen not even +into its natural gilded atmosphere, but through the amulet-guarded +doors of a respectable Jewish family in the heart of a Hackney +Terrace, amid the horsehair couches and deal tables of homely reality. +Nay--more sordid than the romantic wickedness of shadowland--it had +even removed those couches and tables! And oddly blent with this +tossing chaos of new thought in Salvina's romantic brain surged up +another thought, no less new and startling. Her father and mother had +once loved each other! They, too, had dawned upon each other, fairy +prince and fairy princess; had laid in each other's hand that warm +touch of trust and readiness to live and die for each other. It was +very wonderful, and she almost forgot their hostile relationship in a +rapid back-glance upon the years in which they had lived in mutual +love before her unsuspecting eyes. Their prosaic bickering selves were +transfigured: her vivid imagination threw off the damage of the years, +saw her coarse, red-cheeked father and her too plump mother as the +idyllic figures on the lamented parlour vase. And when her thought +struggled painfully back to the actual moment, it was with a new +concrete sense of its tragic intensity. + +"O mother, mother!" she cried, as she threw her arms round her. The +Greek grammar and the letter fell unregarded to the floor. + +The fountain of Mrs. Brill's wrongs leapt higher at the sympathy. "And +I could have had half-a-dozen young men! The boils of Egypt be upon +him! Time after time I said, 'No,' though the Shadchan bewitched my +parents into believing that Michael was an angel without wings." + +"But you also thought father an angel," Salvina pleaded. + +"Yes; and now he _has_ got wings," said Mrs. Brill savagely. + +Salvina's tears began to ooze out. Poor swain and shepherdess on the +parlour vase! Was this, then, how idylls ended? "Perhaps he'll come +back," she murmured. + +The wife snorted viciously. "And my furniture? The beautiful furniture +I toiled and scraped for, that he always grumbled at, though I saved +it out of the housekeeping money, without its costing _him_ a penny, +and no man in London had better meals,--hot meat every day and fish +for Sabbath, even when plaice were eightpence a pound,--and no +servant--every scrap of work done with my own two hands! Now he carts +everything away as if it were his." + +"I suppose it is by law," Salvina said mildly. + +"Law! I'll have the law on him." + +"Oh, no, mother!" and Salvina shuddered. "Besides, he has left our +clothes." + +Mrs. Brill's eye lit up. "I see no clothes." + +"In our rooms. The letter says so." + +"And you still believe what he says?" She began to mount the stairs. +"I am sure he packed in my Paisley shawl while he was about it. It is +fortunate I wore all my jewellery. And you always say I put on too +much!" + +Sustained by this unanswerable vindication of her past policy, Mrs. +Brill ascended the stairs without further wailing. + +Salvina, whose sense of romance never exalted her above the practical, +remembered now that her brother Lazarus might come back at any moment +clamorously hungry. This pinned her to the concrete moment. How to get +him some supper! And her mother, too, must be faint and tired. She ran +into the kitchen, and found enough odds and ends left to make a meal, +and even a cracked teapot and a few coarse cups not worth carrying +away; and, with a sense of Robinson Crusoe adventure, she extracted +light, heat, and cheerfulness from the obedient gas branch, which took +on the air of a case of precious goods not washed away in the +household wreck. When her mother at last came down, cataloguing the +wardrobe salvage in picturesque Yiddish, Salvina stopped her curses +with hot tea. They both drank, leaning against the kitchen-dresser, +which served for a table for the cups. + +Salvina's Crusoe excitement increased when her mother asked her where +they were to sleep, seeing that even the beds had been spirited away. + +"I have five shillings in my purse; I'll go out and buy a cheap +mattress. But then there's Lazarus! Oh dear!" + +"Lazarus has his own bed. Yes, yes, thank God, we'll be able to borrow +his wedding furniture." + +"But it's all stored away in the Jonas's attic." + +A smart rat-tat at the door denoted the inopportune return of Lazarus +himself. Salvina darted upstairs to let him in and break the shock. He +was a slimmer and more elegant edition of his father, a year older +than Kitty, and taller than Salvina by a jaunty head and shoulders. + +"And why isn't the hall lamp alight?" he queried, as her white face +showed itself in the dusky door-slit. "It looks so beastly shabby. The +only light's in the kitchen; I daresay you and the mater are pigging +there again. Why can't you live up to your position?" + +The unexpected reproach broke her down. "We have no position any +more," she sobbed out. And all the long years of paralyzing economies +swept back to her memory, all the painful progress--accelerated by her +growing salary--from the Hounsditch apartments to the bow-windows and +gas-chandeliers of Hackney! + +"What do you mean? What is the matter? Speak, you little fool! Don't +cry." He came across the threshold and shook her roughly. + +"Father's run away with the furniture and some woman," she explained +chokingly. + +"The devil!" The smart cane slipped from his fingers and he +maintained his cigar in his mouth with difficulty. "Do you mean to say +the old man has gone and--the beastly brute! The selfish hypocrite! +But how could he get the furniture?" + +"He made mother go on a visit to the Borough." + +"The old fox! That's your religious chaps. I'll go and give 'em both +brimstone. Where are they?" + +"I don't know where--but you must not--it is all too horrible. There's +nothing even to sleep on. We thought of borrowing your furniture!" + +"What! And give the whole thing away to the Jonases--and lose Rhoda, +perhaps. Good heavens, Sally. Don't be so beastly selfish. Think of +the disgrace, if we can't cover it up." + +"The disgrace is for father, not for you." + +"Don't be an idiot. Old Jonas looked down on us enough already, and if +it hadn't been for Kitty's calling on him in the Samuelsons' carriage, +he might never have consented to the engagement." + +"Oh, dear!" said Salvina, melted afresh by this new aspect. "My poor +Lazarus!" and she gazed dolefully at the handsome youth who had +divided with Kitty the good looks of the family. "But still," she +added consolingly, "you couldn't have married for a long time, +anyhow." + +"I don't know so much. I had a very promising interview this afternoon +with the manager of Granders Brothers, the big sponge-people." + +"But you don't understand travelling in sponge." + +"Pooh! Travelling's travelling. There's nothing to understand. +Whatever the article is, you just tell lies about it." + +"Oh, Lazarus!" + +"Don't make eyes--you ain't pretty enough. What do you know of the +world, you who live mewed up in a Board School? I daresay you believe +all the rot you have to tell the little girls." + +Her brother's shot made a wound he had not intended. Salvina was at +last reminded of her own relation to the sordid tragedy, of what the +other teachers would think, ay, even the little girls, so sharp in all +that did not concern school-learning. Would her pupils have any +inkling of the cloud on teacher's home? Ah, her brother was right. +This disgrace besplashed them all, and she saw herself confusedly as a +tainted figure holding forth on honour and duty to rows of white +pinafores. + + +III + +Meantime, her mother had toiled up--her jewels glittering curiously in +the dusk--and now poured herself out to the fresh auditor in a +breathless wail; recapitulated her long years of devotion and the +abstracted contents of the house. But Lazarus soon wearied of the +inventory of her virtues and furniture. + +"What's the use of crying over spilt milk?" he said. "You must get a +new jug." + +"A new jug! And what about the basin and the coffee-pot and the +saucepans and the plates! And my new blue dish with the +willow-pattern. Oh, my God!" + +"Don't be so stupid." + +"She's a little dazed, Lazarus, dear. Have patience with her. Lazarus +says it's no use crying and letting the neighbours hear you: we must +make the best of a bad job, and cover it up." + +"You'll soon cover me up. I won't need my clothes then--only a clean +shroud. After twenty years--he wipes his mouth and he goes away! Tear +the rent in your garments, children mine, your mother is dead." + +"How can any one have patience with her?" cried Lazarus. "One would +think it was such a treat for her to live with father. Judging by the +rows you've had, mother, you ought to be thankful to be rid of him." + +"I _am_ thankful," she retorted hysterically. "Who said I wasn't? A +grumbling, grunting pig, who grudged me my horsehair couch because he +couldn't sit on it. Well, let him squat on it now with his lady. I +don't care. All my enemies will pity me, will they? If they only knew +how glad I was!" and she broke into more sobs. + +"Come, mother; come downstairs, Lazarus: don't let us stay up in the +dark." + +"Not me," said Lazarus. "I'm not going down to hear this all over +again. Besides, where am I to sit or to sleep? I must go to an hotel." +He struck a match to relight his cigar and it flared weirdly upon the +tear-smudged female faces. "Got any money, Salvina," he said more +gently. + +"Only five shillings." + +"Well, I daresay I can manage on that. Good-night, mother, don't take +on so, it'll be all the same a hundred years hence." He opened the +door; then paused with his hand on the knob, and said awkwardly: "I +suppose you'll manage to find something to sleep on just for +to-night." + +"Oh, yes," said Salvina reassuringly; "we'll manage. Don't worry, +dear." + +"I'll be in the first thing in the morning. We'll have a council of +war. Good-night. It _is_ a beastly mean trick," and he went out +meditatively. + +When he was gone, Salvina remembered that the five shillings were for +the mattress. But she further bethought herself that the sum would +scarcely have sufficed even for a straw mattress, and that the little +gold ring Kitty had given her when she matriculated would fetch more. +Her mother's jewellery must be left sacred; the poor creature was +smarting enough from the sense of loss. Bidding her sit on the stairs +till she returned, she hastened into Mare Street, the great Hackney +highway, christened "The Devil's Mile" by the Salvation Army. Early +experience had familiarized her with the process of pawning, but now +she slipped furtively into the first pawn-shop and did not stay to +make a good bargain. She spent on a telegram to the central +post-office sixpence of the proceeds, so that she might be able to +draw out without delay the few pounds she had laid by for her summer +holiday. While she was purchasing the mattress at the garishly +illuminated furniture store, the words "Hire System" caught her eye, +and seemed a providential solution of the position. She broached +negotiations for the furnishing of a bed-room and a kitchen, minus +carpet and oilcloth (for these would not fit the cheaper apartments +into which they would now have to revert), but she found there were +tedious formalities to be gone through, and that her own signature +would be invalid, as she was legally a child. However, she was able to +secure the porterage of the mattress at once, and, followed by a +bending Atlas, she hurried back to her mother--who sat on her stair, +moaning--and diverted her from her griefs by teaching her to sign her +name, in view of the legal exigencies of the morrow. It was a curious +wind-up to her day's teaching. Poor Mrs. Brill's obstinate objection +to education had to give way at last under such unexpected conditions, +but she insisted on the shortest possible spelling, and so the uncouth +"Esther Brills" pencilled at the top of the sheet were exchanged for +more flowing "E. Brills" lower down. Even then, the good woman took +the thing as a pictorial flourish, or a section of a map, and +disdained acquaintance with the constituent letters, so that her +progress in learning remained only nominal. + +Then the "infant" at law put her mother to bed and lay down beside her +on the mattress, both in their clothes for lack of blankets. The +mother soon dozed off, but the "child" lay turning from side to side. +The pressure of her little tasks had dulled the edge of emotion, but +now, in the silence of the night, the whole tragic position came back +with all its sordid romanticism, its pathetic meanness; and when at +last she slept, its obsession lay heavy upon her dreams, and she sat +at her examination desk in the London University, striving horridly to +recall the irregularities of Greek verbs, and to set them down with a +pen that could never dip up any ink, while the inexorable hands of the +clock went round, and her father, in the coveted Bachelor's gown, +waited to spirit away her desk and seat as soon as the hour should +strike. + + +IV + +The next morning Salvina should have awakened with a sense through all +her bones that it was Friday--the last day of the school-week, +harbinger of such blessed rest that the mere expectation of it was +also a rest. Alas! she woke from the nightmare of sleep to the +nightmare of reality, and the week-end meant only time to sound the +horror of the new situation. + +In one point alone, Friday remained a consolation. Only one day to +face her fellow-teachers and her children, and then two days for +hiding from the world with her pain, for preparing to face it again; +to say nothing of the leisure for practical recuperation of the home. + +Lazarus turned up so late that the council of war was of the briefest +and held almost on the door-step, for Salvina must be in school by +nine. The thought of staying away--even in this crisis--simply did not +occur to her. + +She arranged that Lazarus was to meet her in the city after morning +school, when she would have drawn her savings from the post-office: +more than enough for the advance on the furniture, which must be +delivered that very afternoon. Lazarus had been for telegraphing at +once to Kitty for assistance, but Salvina put her foot down. + +"Let us not frighten her--I will go and break it to her on Sunday +afternoon. You know she can't spare any money; it is as much as she +can do to dress up to the position." + +"I do hope the scandal won't spread," said Lazarus gloomily. "It would +be a nice thing if she lost the position and fell back on our hands." + +"Yes, he has ruined all my children," sobbed Mrs. Brill, breaking out +afresh. "But what did he care? Ah, if it wasn't for me, you would have +been in the workhouse long ago." + +"Well then, go and do your Sabbath marketing or else we'll have to go +there now," said Lazarus not unkindly; "the tradespeople will give you +credit." + +"Rather! They know _I_ never ran away." + +"And mind, mother," said Salvina as she snatched up her Greek grammar, +"mind the fried fish is as good as usual; we're a long way from the +workhouse yet! And if you're not in to-night, Lazarus," she whispered +as she ran off, "I'll never forgive you." + +"Well, I'm blowed!" said Lazarus, looking after the awkward little +figure, flying to catch the 8.21. + +"Yes, but I've no frying pan!" Mrs. Brill called after her. + +"You'll have it by this afternoon," Salvina called back reassuringly. + +The sun was already strong, the train packed, and Salvina stood so +jammed in that she could scarcely hold her grammar open, and the +irregular verbs danced before her eyes even more than their strange +moods and tenses warranted. At the school her thrilling consciousness +of her domestic tragedy interposed some strange veil between her and +her fellow-teachers, and they seemed to stand away from her, enveloped +in another atmosphere. She heard herself teaching--five elevens are +fifty-five--and her own self seemed to stand away from her, too. She +noted without protest two of the girls pulling each other's hair in +some far-off hazy world, and the answering drone of the class--five +elevens are fifty-five--seemed like the peaceful buzzing of a +gigantic blue-bottle on a drowsy afternoon. It occurred to her +suddenly that she was fifty-five years old, and when Miss Rolver, the +Christian head-mistress, came into her room, Salvina had an unexpected +feeling of advantage in life-experience over this desiccated specimen +of femininity, redolent of time-tables, record-parchments, foolscap, +and clean blotting-paper. Outside all this scheduled world pulsed a +large irregular life of flesh and blood; all the primitive verbs in +every language were irregular, it suddenly flashed upon her, and she +had an instant of vivifying insight into the Greek language she had +unquestioningly accepted as "dead"; saw Grecian men and women +breathing their thoughts and passions--even expressing the shape of +their throats and lips--through these erratic aorists. + +"You look tired, dear," said the head-mistress. + +"It's the heat," Salvina murmured. + +"Never mind; the summer holidays will soon be here." + +It sounded a mockery. Summer holidays would no longer mean Ramsgate, +and delicious days of study on sunny cliffs, with the relaxation of +novels and poems. These slowly achieved luxuries of the last two years +were impossible for this year at least. And this thought of being +penned up in London during the dog days oppressed her: she felt +choking. Her next sensation was of water sprinkling on her face, and +of Miss Rolver's kind anxious voice asking her if she felt better. +Instead of replying, Salvina wondered in a clouded way where the +school-managers were. + +Even her naïve mind had been struck at last by the coincidence that +whenever, after a managers' meeting, these omnipotent ladies and +gentlemen from a higher world strolled through the school, Miss Rolver +happened to be discovered in an interesting attitude. If it was the +play-hour, she would be--for this occasion only--in the playground +leading the games, surrounded by clamorously affectionate little ones. +If it was working-time, she was found as a human island amid a sea of +sewing: billows of pinafores and aprons heaved tumultuously around +her. Or, with a large air of angelic motherhood, she would be tying up +some child's bruised finger. Her greatest invention--so it had +appeared to the scrupulous Salvina--was the stray, starved, +half-frozen, sweet little kitten, lapping up milk from a saucer before +a ruddy blazing fire at the very instant of the great personages' +passage. How they had beamed, one and all, at the touching sight. + +Hence it was that Salvina's dazed vision now sought vaguely for the +school-managers. But in another instant she realized that this present +solicitude was not for another but for herself, and that it had +nothing of the theatrical. A remorseful pang of conscience added to +her pains. She said tremulously that she felt better and was gently +chided for over-study and admonished to go home and rest. + +"Oh, no, I am all right now," she responded instinctively. + +"But I'll take your class," Miss Rolver insisted, and Salvina found +herself wandering outside in the free sunshine, with a sense of the +forbidden. An acute consciousness of Board School classes droning +dutifully all over London made the streets at that hour strange and +almost sinful. She went to the post-office and drew out as much of her +money as red tape allowed, and while wandering about in Whitechapel +waiting for the hour of her rendezvous with Lazarus, she had time to +purchase a coarse but white table-cloth, a plush cover embroidered +with "Jerusalem" in Hebrew, and a gilt goblet. These were for the +Friday-night table. + + +V + +But the Sabbath brought no peace. Though miracles were wrought in that +afternoon, and, except that it was laid in the kitchen, the Sabbath +table had all its immemorial air, with the consecration cup, the long +plaited loaves under the "Jerusalem" cover, and the dish of fried +fish that had grown to seem no less religious; yet there could be no +glossing over the absence of the gross-paunched paternal figure that +had so unctuously presided over the ceremony. His vacant place held +all the emptiness of death, and all the fulness of retrospective +profanation. How like he was to Moss M. Rosenstein, Salvina thought +suddenly. Lazarus had ignored the gilt goblet and the shilling bottle +of claret, and was helping himself from the coffee-pot, when his +mother cried bitterly: "What! are we to eat like the animals?" + +"Oh bother!" Lazarus exclaimed. "You know I hate all these mummeries. +I wouldn't say if they really made people good. But you see for +yourself--" + +"Oh, but you must say _Kiddush_, Lazarus," said Salvina, half +pleadingly, half peremptorily. She fetched the prayer-book and +Lazarus, grumbling inarticulately, took the head of the table, and +stumbled through the prayer, thanking God for having chosen and +sanctified Israel above all nations, and in love and favour given it +the holy Sabbath as an inheritance. + +But oh! how tamely the words sounded, how void of that melodious +devotion thrilling through the joyous roulades of the father. It was a +sort of symbol of the mutilated home, and thus Salvina felt it. And +she remembered the last ceremony at which her father had +presided--that of the Separation when the Sabbath faded into +work-day--the ceremony of Division between the Holy and the Profane, +and she shivered to think it had indeed marked for the unhappy man the +line of demarcation. + +"Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, who hallowest the Sabbath," +Lazarus was mumbling, and in another instant he was awkwardly +distributing the ritual morsels of bread. + +But the mother could not swallow hers, for indignant imaginings of the +rival Sabbath board. "May _her_ morsel choke her!" she cried, and +nearly was choked by her own. + +"Oh, mother, do not mention her--neither her nor him.--_Never any +more_," said Salvina. And again the new note of peremptoriness rang in +her voice, and her mother stopped suddenly short like a scolded child. + +"Will you have plaice or sole, mother?" Salvina went on, her voice +changing to a caress. + +"I can't eat, Salvina. Don't ask me." + +"But you must eat." And Salvina calmly helped her to fish and to +coffee and put in the lumps of sugar; and the mother ate and drank +with equal calm, as if hypnotized. + +All through the meal Salvina's mind kept swinging betwixt the past and +the future. Strange odds and ends of scenes came up in which her +father figured, and her old and new conceptions of him interplayed +bewilderingly. Her sudden vision of him as Moss M. Rosenstein +persisted, and could only be laid by concentrating her thoughts on the +early days when he used to take herself and Kitty to Victoria Park, +carrying her in his arms when she was tired. But it made her cry to +see that little tired happy figure cuddling the trusted giant, and +she had to jump for refuge into the future. + +They must move back to Hounsditch. She must give up the idea of +becoming a "Bachelor": the hours of evening study must now be devoted +to teaching others. Her University distinction was already great +enough to give her an unusual chance of pupils, while her "Yiddish," +sucked in with her mother's milk, had become exceptionally good German +under study. She might hope for as much as two shillings an hour and +thus earn a whole sovereign extra per week. + +And over this poor helpless blighted mother, she would watch as over a +child. All the maternal instinct in her awoke under the stress of this +curiously inverted position. Her remorseful memory summoned a +penitential procession of bygone petulances. Never again would she be +cross or hasty with this ill-starred heroine. Yes, her mother was +become a figure of romance to her, as well as a nursling. This woman, +whose prosaic humours she had so often fretted under, was in truth a +woman who had lived and loved. She had ceased to be a mere mother; a +large being who presided over one's childhood. And this imaginative +insight, she noted with surprise, would never have been hers but for +her father's desertion: like one who realizes the virtues of a corpse, +she had waited till love was slain to perceive its fragrance. + +A postman's knock, as the meal was finished, made her heart give a +corresponding pit-a-pat, and she turned quite faint. All her nerves +seemed to be on the rack, expecting new sensational developments. The +letter was for Lazarus. + +"Ah, you abomination!" cried his mother, as he tore open the envelope. +He did not pause to defend his Sabbath breaking, but cried joyfully: +"What did I tell you? Granders Brothers offer me travelling expenses +and a commission!" + +"Oh, thank God, thank God!" ejaculated his mother, her eyes raised +piously. He took up his hat. "Where are you going?" said Mrs. Brill. + +"To see Rhoda of course. Don't you think she's as anxious about it as +you?" + +Salvina's eyes were full of sympathetic tears: "Yes, yes, let him go, +mother." + + +VI + +On the Sunday afternoon, feeling much better for the Saturday rest, +and scrupulously gloved, shod, and robed in deference to the grandeur +of her destination, Salvina boarded an omnibus, and after a tedious +journey, involving a walk at the end, she arrived at the West End +square in which her sister bloomed as governess and companion in a +newly enriched Jewish family. She stood an instant in the porch to +compose herself for the tragic task before her and felt in her pocket +to be sure she had not lost the little bottle of smelling-salts with +which she had considerately armed herself, in anticipation of a +failure of Kitty's nerves. Then she knocked timidly at the door, which +was opened by a speckless boy in buttons, who also opened up to her +imagination endless vistas of aristocratic association. His impressive +formality, as of the priest of a shrine, seemed untinged by any +remembrance that on her one previous visit she had been made free of +the holy of holies. But perhaps it was not the same boy. He was indeed +less a boy to her than a row of buttons, and less a row of buttons +than a symbol of all the elegances and opulences in which Kitty moved +as to the manner born; the elaborate ritual of the toilette, the +sacramental shaving of poodles, the mysterious panoramic dinners in +which one had to be constantly aware of the appropriate fork. + +Salvina had not waited a minute in the imposing hall, ere a radiant +belle flew down the stairs--with a vivacity that troubled the +sacro-sanct atmosphere--and caught Salvina in her arms. + +"Oh, you dear Sally! I am _so_ glad to see you," and a fusillade of +kisses accompanied the hug. "Whatever brings you here? Oh, and such a +dowdy frock! You needn't flush up so, silly little child; nobody +expects you to know how to dress like us ignoramuses, and it doesn't +matter to-day, there's no one to see you, for they're all out driving, +and I'm lying down with a headache." + +"Poor Kitty. But then you ought to be out driving." She was divided +between sympathy for the sufferer, and admiration of the finished, +fine ladyhood implied in indifference to the chance of a +carriage-drive. + +"Yes, but I've so many letters to write, and they don't really drive +on Sundays, just stop at house after house, and not good houses +either. It is such a bore. They've never shaken off the society they +had before they made their money." + +"Well, but that's rather nice of them." + +"Perhaps, but not nice for me. But come upstairs and you shall have +some tea." + +Salvina mounted the broad staircase with a reverence attuned to her +own hushed footfalls, but her task of breaking the news to her sister +weighed the heavier upon her for all this subdued magnificence. It +seemed almost profane to bring the squalid episodes of Hackney into +this atmosphere, appropriate indeed to the sinful romances of +marquises and epauletted officers, but wholly out of accord with +surreptitious furniture vans. What a blow to poor Kitty the news would +be! She dallied weakly, till the tea was brought by a powdered +footman. Then she had an ingenious idea for a little shock to lead up +to a greater. She would say they were going to move. But as she took +off her white glove not to sully it with the tea and cake, Kitty +cried: "Why what have you done with my ring?" + +Here was an excellent natural opening, but Salvina was taken too much +aback to avail herself of it, especially as the artificial opening +preoccupied her mind. "Oh, your ring's all right," she said hastily; +"I came to tell you we are going to move." + +Kitty clapped her hands. "Ah! so you've taken my advice at last! I'm +so glad. It wasn't nice for me to stay with you at that dingy hole, +even for a day or two a year. Mustn't mother be pleased!" + +Salvina bit her lip. Her task was now heavier than ever. + +"No, mother isn't pleased. She is crying about it." + +"Crying? Disgusting. How she still hankers after Spitalfields and the +Lane!" + +"She isn't crying for that, but because father won't go with us." + +"Oh, I have no patience with father. He hasn't a soul above red +herrings and potatoes." + +"Oh, yes he has. He has left us." + +"What! Left you?" Kitty's pretty eyes opened wide. "Because he won't +move to a better house!" + +"No, we are moving to a worse house because he has moved to a better." + +"What _are_ you talking about? Is it a joke? A riddle? I give it up." + +"Father--can't you guess, Kitty?--father has gone away. There is some +other woman." + +"No?" gasped Kitty. "Ha! ha! ha! ha!" and she shook with long peals +of silvery laughter. "Well, of all the funny things! Ha! ha! ha!" + +"Funny!" and Salvina looked at her sternly. + +"What, don't you see the humour of it? Father turning into the hero of +a novelette. Romance and red herrings! Passion and potatoes! Ha! ha! +ha!" + +"If you had seen the havoc it wrought, you wouldn't have had the heart +to laugh." + +"Oh well, mother was crying. That I understand. But that's nothing new +for her. She'd cry just as much if he were there. The average rainfall +is--how many inches?" + +Salvina's face was stern and white. "A mother's tears are sacred," she +said in low but firm protest. + +"Oh, dear me, Sally, I always forget you have no sense of humour. +Well, what are you going to do about it?" and her own sense of humour +continued to twitch and dimple the corners of her pretty mouth. + +"I told you. We cannot afford to keep up the house--we must go back to +apartments in Spitalfields." + +Instantly Kitty's face grew as serious as Salvina's. "Oh, nonsense!" +she said instinctively. The thought of her family returning to the +discarded shell of apartments was humiliating; her own personality +seemed being dragged back. + +"We can't pay the rent. We must give a quarter's notice at once." + +"Absurd! You'll only save a few shillings a week. Why can't you let +apartments yourselves? At least you would preserve a decent +appearance." + +"Is it worth while having the responsibility of the rent? There's only +mother and I--we shan't need a house." + +"But there's Lazarus!" + +"He'll have a place of his own. He'll marry before our notice +expires." + +"That same Jonas girl?" + +"Yes." + +"Ridiculous. Small tradespeople, and dreadfully common, all the lot. I +thought he'd got over his passion for that bold black creature who's +been seen licking ice-cream out of a street-glass. To connect us with +that family! Men are so selfish. But I still don't see why you can't +remain as you are--let your drawing-room, say, furnished." + +"But it isn't furnished." + +"Not furnished. Why, I've sat on the couch myself." + +"Yes," said Salvina, a faint smile tempering her deadly gravity. "You +are the only person who has ever done that. But there's no couch now. +Father smuggled all the furniture away in a van." + +Again Kitty's silver laughter rang out unquenchably. + +"And you don't call that funny! Eloped with the chairs! I call it +killing." + +"Yes, for mother," said Salvina. + +"Pooh! She'll outlive all of us. I wish you were as sure of getting +the furniture back. She's not a bad mother, as mothers go, but you +take her too seriously." + +"But, Kitty, consider the disgrace!" + +"The disgrace of having a wicked parent! I've endured for years the +disgrace of having a poor one--and that's worse. My people--the +Samuelsons, I mean--will never even hear of the pater's +escapade--gossip keeps strictly to its station. And even if they do, +they know already my family's under a cloud, and they have learned to +accept me for myself." + +"Well, I am glad you don't mind," said Salvina, half-relieved, +half-shocked. + +"I mind, if it makes you uncomfortable, you dear, silly Sally." + +"Oh, don't worry about me. I think I'll go back to mother, now." + +"Nonsense, why, we haven't begun to talk yet. Have another cup of tea. +No? How's old Miss What's-a-name, your head-mistress? Any more frozen +little kittens?" + +"She's very kind, really. I'm sorry I told you about the kitten. She +let me go home early on Friday." + +"Why? To track the van?" + +"No; I wasn't very well." + +"Poor Sally!" and Kitty hugged her again. "I daresay you were more +upset than mother." + +Tears came into Salvina's eyes at her sister's affectionateness. "Oh, +no; but please don't talk about it any more. Father is dead to us +now." + +"Then we must speak well of him." + +Salvina shuddered. "He is a wicked, heartless man, and mother and I +never wish to see his face again." + +A cloud darkened Kitty's blonde brow. + +"Yes, but she isn't going to marry another man, I hope." + +"How can she?" said Salvina. "I wouldn't let her make any public +scandal." + +"But aren't there funny laws in our religion--_Get_ and things like +that--which dispense with the English courts." + +"I believe there are--I read about something of the kind in a +novel--oh, yes! and father did offer mother _Get_ before he went off, +so I suppose he considers his conscience clear." + +"Well, I rely upon you, Sally, to see that she doesn't marry or +complicate things more. We don't want two wicked parents." + +"Of course not. But I am sure she doesn't dream of any new +complications. You don't do her justice, Kitty. She's just +broken-hearted; a perpetual widow, with worse than her husband's death +to lament." + +"Yes--her lost furniture." + +"Oh, Kitty, do realize what it means." + +"I do, my dear. I do realize it--it's too killing. Passion in a +Pantechnicon or Elopements economically conducted. By the day or hour. +Oh, dear, oh, dear! But do promise me, Salvina, that you won't go back +to Spitalfields." + +"I must be somewhere near the school, dearest. It will save +train-fares." + +Kitty pouted. "Well, you know I couldn't drive up to see you any more; +Hackney was all but outside the radius--the radius of respectability. +I couldn't ask coachman to go to Spitalfields--unless I pretended to +be slumming." + +"Well, pretend." + +"Oh, Salvina! I thought you were so conscientious. No, I'll have to +come in a cab. You're quite sure you won't have some more tea? Oh, do, +I insist. One piece of sugar?" + +"Yes, thank you, dear. By the way, has Sugarman the Shadchan been +here?" + +"You mean--has he gone?" + +"Oh, poor Kitty! It was my fault. I let him know your address. I do +hope the horrid man hasn't worried you." + +"Sugarman?" + +"No--Moss M. Rosenstein." + +"How pat you have his name! But why do you call him horrid?" + +Salvina stared. "But have you seen his photograph?" + +"Oh, you can't go by photographs. He has been here." + +"What! Sugarman had the impudence to bring him!" + +Kitty flushed slightly. "No, he called alone--this afternoon, just +before you." + +"What impertinence! A brazen commercial courtship! You wouldn't +receive him, of course." + +"Oh, well, I thought it would be fun just to look at him," said Kitty +uneasily. "A commercial courtship, as you express it, is not +unamusing." + +"I don't see anything amusing in it--it's an outrage." + +"I told you you had no sense of humour. I find it comic to be loved +before first sight by a man who has no _h_'s, but only _l_'s, _s_'s, +and _d_'s." + +"Sugarman says he did see you before loving you--noticed you before he +went to the Cape. But you must have been a little girl then." + +"He didn't tell me that--that would have been even more romantic. He +only said he fell in love with my photograph, as paraded by Sugarman." + +"Why, where should Sugarman get--" + +"You never know what mother's been up to," interrupted Kitty dryly. + +"Much more likely father." + +"What's the odds? Do have another piece of cake." + +"No, thank you. But what did you say to the man?" + +"The same as you. Don't stare so, you stupid dear. I said, No, thank +you." + +"That I knew. Of course you couldn't possibly marry a bloated creature +from the Cape. I meant, in what terms did you put him in his place?" + +"Oh, really," said Kitty, laughing, but without her recent merriment. +"This is too prejudiced. I can't admit that mere residence in the Cape +is a disqualification." + +"Oh, yes, it is. Why do they go there? Only to make money. A person +whose one idea in life is money can't be a nice person." + +"But money isn't his one idea--now his one idea is matrimony. That is +a joke. You ought to laugh." + +"It makes me cry to think that some nice girl may be driven into +marrying him just for his money." + +"Poor man! So because of his money he is to be prevented from having a +nice wife." + +Salvina was taken aback by this obverse view. + +"How is he ever to improve?" asked Kitty, pursuing her advantage. + +"Yes, that's true," Salvina admitted. "The best thing would be if some +nice girl could _fall in love_ with him. But that doesn't make his +methods less insulting. I wish all these Shadchans could be +slaughtered off." + +"What a savage little chit! They often make as good marriages as are +made in heaven." + +"Don't tease. You know you think as I do." + +Salvina took an affectionate leave of her sister, and walked down the +soft staircase, confused but cheerful. The boy in buttons let her out. +To do so he hurriedly put down the infant of the house who was riding +on his shoulders. Such a touch of humanity in a row of buttons gave +Salvina a new insight and a suspicion that even the powdered footman +who brought the tea might have an emotion behind his gorgeous +waistcoat. But the crowds fighting for the omnibuses that fine Sunday +afternoon depressed her again. All the seats outside were packed, and +it was only after standing a long time on the pavement that she +squeezed her way into an inside seat. The stuffiness and jolting made +her feel sick and dizzy. By a happy accident her fingers encountered +the bottle of smelling-salts in her pocket, and, as she pulled it out +eagerly, she remembered it had been intended for Kitty. + + +VII + +Lazarus remained out late that evening, and, as he had forgotten to +borrow the key, Salvina was sitting up for him. + +She utilized the time in preparing her sewing. She was making a +night-dress with dozens and dozens of tiny tucks at the breast, all +run by hand, and she was putting into the fine calico an artistic +needlework absolutely futile, and with its perpetual "count two, miss +two,"--infinitely trying to the eyes, especially by gas-light. The +insane competition of the teachers, refining upon a Code in itself +stupidly exacting, made the needlework the most distressing of all the +tasks of the girl-teachers of that day. Salvina herself, with her +morbid conscientiousness and desire to excel, underwent nightmares +from the vexatiousness of learning how to cut holes so that they could +not possibly be darned, and then darning them. When, at the +head-centre, the lady demonstrator, armed with a Brobdingnagian +whalebone needle, threaded with a bright red cord, executed +herringboned fantasias on a canvas frame resembling a violin stand, it +all looked easy enough. But when Salvina herself had to unravel a +little piece of stockinette with a real needle and then fill in the +hole so as to leave no trace of the crime, she was reduced to +hysteria. Even the coloured threads with which she worked were a scant +relief to the eye. And all this elaborate fancywork was entirely +useless. At home Salvina was always at work, darning and mending; +never was there a defter needle. Even the "hedge-tear-down" was neatly +and expeditiously repaired, so long as she avoided the scholastic +methods. "What's all this madness?" her mother had asked once, when +she had tried the orthodox "Swiss darning" on a real article. And +Mrs. Brill surveyed in amazement the back of the darn, which looked +like Turkish towelling. + +To-night Salvina could not long continue her taxing work. Her eyes +ached, and she at last resolved to rise early in the morning and +proceed with the night-dress then. She turned the gas low, so as to +reduce the bill, and it was as if she had turned down her own spirits, +for a strange melancholy now took possession of her in the silent +fuscous kitchen in the denuded house, and the emptiness of the other +rooms seemed to strike a chill upon her senses. There were strange +creaks and ghostly noises from all parts. She fixed her thought on the +one furnished bed-room now occupied by her mother, as on a symbol of +life and recuperation. But the uncanny noises went on; rustlings, and +patterings, and Salvina felt that she might shriek and frighten her +mother. She had almost resolved to turn up the gas, when the sound of +a harmonium came muffled through the wall, and the softened voices of +her Christian neighbours sang a Sunday hymn. Salvina ceased to be +alone; and tears bathed her cheeks, as the crude melody lilted on. She +felt absorbed in some great light and love, which was somehow both a +present possession and a beckoning future that awaited her soul, and +it was all mysteriously mixed with the blue skies of Victoria Park, in +those far-off happy days when she had gone home on her father's +shoulder; and with the blue skies of those enchanted sunlit lands of +art and beauty, in which she would wander in the glorious future, when +she should be making a hundred and fifty a year. Paris, Venice, +Athens, Madrid--how the mellifluous syllables thrilled her! One by +one, in her annual summer holiday, she and her mother might see them +all. Meantime she saw them all in her imagination, bathed in the light +that never was on sea or land, and it was not her mother with whom she +journeyed but a noble young Bayard, handsome and tender-hearted, who +had imperceptibly slipped into her mother's place. Poor Salvina, with +all her modesty, never saw herself as others saw her, never lost the +dream of a romantic love. Lazarus's rat-tat recalled her to reality. + +"I know I'm late," he said, with apologetic defiance, "but it's no +pleasure to sit in an empty house. _You_ may like it, but your tastes +were always peculiar, and that straw mattress on the floor isn't +inviting." + +"I am so sorry, dear. But then mother _must_ have the bed." + +"Well, it won't last long, thank Heaven. I made the Jonases consent to +the marriage before the scandal gets to them." + +"So soon!" said Salvina with unconscious social satire. + +"Yes, and we'll have our honeymoon travelling for Granders Brothers. +She's a good sort, is Rhoda, she doesn't mind gypsying. And that saves +us from the expense of completing the furniture." He paused, and +added awkwardly, "I'd lend it to you, only that might give us away." + +"But we don't need the furniture, dear, and don't you think they +_ought_ to know--it is the rest of the world that it _doesn't_ +concern." + +"They are bound to know after the marriage. We've kept it dark so far, +thanks to being in Hackney away from our old acquaintances and to +mother's stinginess in not having encouraged new people to drop in. +I've told the Jonases father was ill and might have to go away for his +health. That'll pave the way to his absence from the wedding. It +sounds quite grand. We'll send him to a German Spa." + +Salvina did not share her brother's respect for old Jonas, who bored +her with trite quotations from English literature or the Hebrew Bible. +He was in sooth a pompous ignoramus, acutely conscious of being an +intellectual light in an ignorant society; a green shade he wore over +his left eye added to his air of dignified distinction. Foreign Jews +in especial were his scorn, and he seriously imagined that his own +stereotyped phrases uttered with a good English pronunciation gave his +conversation an immeasurable superiority over the most original +thinking tainted by a German or Yiddish accent. Salvina's timid +corrections of his English quotations made him angry and imperilled +Lazarus's wooing. The young man was indeed the only member of the +family who cultivated relations with the Jonases, though now it would +be necessary to exchange perfunctory visits. Lazarus presided over +these visits in fear and trembling, glossing over any slips as to the +father, who was gone to the seaside for his health. On second +thoughts, Lazarus had not ventured on a German Spa. + + +VIII + +Ere the wedding-day arrived, Salvina had to go to the seaside. +Clacton-on-Sea was the somewhat plebeian place and the school-fête the +occasion. Salvina looked forward to it without much personal pleasure, +because of the responsibilities involved, but it was a break in the +pupil-teacher's monotonous round of teaching at the school and being +taught at the Centres; and in the actual expedition the children's joy +was contagious and made Salvina shed secret tears of sympathy. Arrived +at the beach of the stony, treeless, popular watering-place, most of +the happy little girls were instantly paddling in the surf with yells +of delight, while the tamer sort dug sand-pits and erected castles. +Salvina, whose office on this occasion was to assist an "assistant +teacher," had to keep her eye on a particular contingent. She sat down +on the noisy sunlit sands with her back to the sea-wall so as to sweep +the field of vision. Her nervous conscientiousness made her count her +sheep at frequent intervals, and be worried over missing now this +one, now that one. How her heart beat furiously and then almost +stopped, when she saw a child wading out too far. No, decidedly it was +a trying form of pleasure for the teacher. One bright little girl who +had never beheld the sea before picked up a wonderfully smooth white +pebble, and bringing it to Salvina asked if it was worth any money. +Salvina held it up, extemporizing an object lesson for the benefit of +the little bystanders. + +"No," she said, "this is not worth any money, because you can get +plenty of them without trouble, and even beautiful things are not +considered valuable if anybody can have them. This stone was polished +without charge by the action of the waves washing against it for +millions and millions of years, and if it--" + +The sudden blare of a brass band on the other side of the sea-wall +made her turn her head, and there, in a brand-new room of a brand-new +house on the glaring Promenade, a room radiating blatant prosperity +from its stony balcony, she perceived her father, in holiday attire, +and by his side a woman, buxom and yellow-haired. A hot wave of blood +seemed to flood Salvina up to the eyes. So there he was luxuriating in +the sun, rich and careless. All her homely instincts of work and duty +rose in burning contempt. And poor Mrs. Brill had to remain cooped at +home, drudging and wailing. For a second she felt she would like to +throw the stone at him, but her next feeling was pain lest the sight +of her should painfully embarrass him; and turning her face swiftly +seawards she went on, with scarce a pause perceptible to the little +girls, "If it gets worn away some more millions of years, it will be +ground down to sand, like all the other stones that were once here," +and as she spoke, she began to realize her own words, and a tragic +sense of her own insignificance in this eternal wash of space and time +seemed to reduce her to a grain of sand, and blow her about the great +spaces. But the mood passed away before a fresh upwelling of concrete +resentment against the self-pampered pair at the Promenade window. +Nevertheless, her feeling of how their seeming satisfaction would be +upset at the sight of her, made her carefully minimize the +contingency, and the dread of it hovered over the day, adding to the +worries over the children. But she vowed that her mother should be +revenged; she, too, poor wronged one, should wallow in Promenade +luxury in her future holidays; no more should she be housed in back +streets without sea-views. + +At night, after Mrs. Brill was in bed, Salvina could not resist saying +to Lazarus, whose supper she had been keeping hot for him: "How +strange! Father _is_ at the seaside." + +"The dickens!" He paused, fork in hand. "You saw him at +Clacton-on-Sea?" + +"Yes, but don't tell mother. So we didn't tell a lie after all. I'm so +glad." + +"Oh, go to blazes, you and your conscience. Where was he staying?" + +"In a house in the very centre of the Promenade; it's simply +shocking!" + +"Make me some fresh mustard, and don't moralize. Did you have a good +time?" + +"Not very; a little cripple-girl in my class went paddling, and +joking, and dropped her crutch, and it floated away--" + +"Bother your little cripple-girls. They always seem to be in your +class!" + +"Because my class is on the ground floor." + +"Ha! ha! ha! Just your luck. By the way," he became grave, "look what +a beastly letter from Kitty! Not coming to the wedding. I call it +awfully selfish of her." + +Kitty wrote her deep regrets, but her people had suddenly determined +to go abroad and she could not lose this chance of seeing the world; +"the governess's honeymoon," she christened it. Paris, Switzerland, +Rome,--all the magic places were to be hers,--and Salvina, reading the +letter, gasped with sympathy and longing. + +But the happy traveller was represented at the wedding by a large +bronze-looking knight on horseback, which towered in shining green +over the insignificant gifts of the Jonas's circle; the utilitarian +salad-bowls, and fish-slices, and dessert sets. One other present +stood out luridly, but only to Salvina. It was a glossy arm-chair, +and on the seat lay a card: "From Rhoda's loving father-in-law." When +Salvina first saw this--at a family card-party, the Sunday evening +before the wedding--she started and flushed so furiously that Lazarus +had to give her a warning nudge, and to whisper: "Only for +appearance." At the supper-table old Jonas, who carved and jested with +much appreciation of his own skill in both departments, referred +facetiously to the absent father, who might, nevertheless, be said to +be "in the chair" on that occasion. + +Salvina dressed her mother as carefully for the ceremony as though +Kitty's fears were being realized and Mrs. Brill was the bride of the +occasion; and so debonair a figure emerged from the ordeal that you +could recognize Kitty's mother instead of Salvina's. Lazarus had spent +his farewell evening of bachelorhood at an hotel, justly complaining +that a mirrorless bed-room with a straw mattress was no place for a +bridegroom to issue from. Never had bridegroom been so ill-treated, he +grumbled; and he shook his fist imaginatively at the father who had +despoiled him. + +But he joined his mother and sister in the cab; and as it approached +the synagogue, he said suddenly: "Don't be shocked--but I rather +expect father will be at the _Shool_ (synagogue)." + +"What!" and Mrs. Brill appeared like to faint. + +"He wouldn't have the cheek," Salvina said reassuringly, as she +pulled out the smelling-salts which Kitty had not needed. + +"He wouldn't have the cheek _not_ to come," said Lazarus. "I asked +him." + +"You!" They glared at him in horror. + +"Yes; I wasn't going to have things look funny--I hate explanations. +The Jonases thought there was something queer the other night, when +you both bungled the explanation of the rheumatism, spite all my +coaching." + +"But where did you find him?" said the mother excitedly. + +"At Clacton-on-Sea." + +Salvina bit her lip. + +"I sent in my card,--'Laurence Beryl, of Granders Brothers.' When he +saw me, I thought he would have had a fit. I told him if he didn't +come up to the wedding and play heavy father, I'd summons him--" + +"Summons him!" echoed Mrs. Brill. + +"For stealing my old arm-chair. I remembered--ha! ha! ha!--it was I +that had bought the easy-chair for myself, when we lived in +Spitalfields and had only wooden chairs." + +"So he _did_ send that easy-chair!" said Salvina. + +"Yes; that was rather clever of him. And don't you think it's clever +of me to save appearances?" + +"It'll be terrible for mother!" said Salvina hotly. "Didn't you think +of that?" + +"She won't have to talk to him. He'll only hang round. Nobody will +notice." + +"It would have been better to tell the truth," cried Salvina, "or even +a lie. This is only acting a lie. And it must be as painful for him as +for us." + +"Serve him right--the old furniture-sneak!" + +"It was a mistake," Salvina persisted. + +"Hush, hush, Salvina!" said Mrs. Brill. "Don't disturb your brother's +festival." + +"He has disturbed it himself," said Salvina, bursting into tears. "I +wish, mother, we had not come." + +"Here, here! This is a pretty wedding," said Lazarus. + +"Hush, Salvina, hush!" said Mrs. Brill. "What does it matter to us if +a dog creeps into synagogue?" + +At this point the cab stopped. + +"We're not there!" cried Mrs. Brill. + +"No," Lazarus explained; "but we pick up father here. We must appear +to arrive together." + +Ere the horrified pair could protest, he opened the door, sprang out, +and pushed inside a stout, rubicund man with a festal rose in his +holiday coat, but a miserable, shamefaced look in his eyes. Lazarus +took his seat ere a word could be spoken. The cab rolled on. + +"Good-morning, Esther," he muttered. "I offered you _Get_." + +"Silence!" cried Salvina, as if she had been talking to the little +girls. "How dare you speak to her?" She held her mother's hand and +felt the pulse beating madly. + +"You old serpent--" began Mrs. Brill hotly. + +"Mother!" pleaded Salvina; "not a word; he doesn't deserve it." + +"In Jerusalem I could have two wives," he muttered. But no one +replied. + +The four human beings sat in painful silence, their knees touching. +The culprit shot uneasy, surreptitious glances at his wife, so radiant +in jewels and finery and with so Kitty-like a complexion. It was as if +he saw her freshly, or as if he were shocked--even startled--by her +retaining so much joy of life despite his desertion of her. +Fortunately the strange drive only lasted a few minutes. The +bridegroom's wedding-party passed into the synagogue through an avenue +of sympathetic observers. + +Mr. Brill had no part to play in the ceremony. The honours were +carried off by Mr. Jonas, who stalked in slowly, with the bride on his +arm, and a new green shade over his left eye. The rival father hovered +meekly on the outskirts of the marriage-canopy amid a crowd of +Jonases. Salvina stationed herself and her mother on the opposite +border of the canopy, and throughout bristled, apprehensive, +prohibitive, fiery, like a spaniel guarding its mistress against a +bull-dog on the pounce. The bull-dog indeed was docile enough; +avoiding the spaniel's eye, and trailing a spiritless tail. But the +creature revived at the great wedding-feast in the hall of a hundred +covers, and under the congratulations and the convivial influences +tended to forget he was in disgrace. The bridegroom's parents were +placed together, but Salvina changed seats with her mother, and became +a buffer between the twain, a non-conducting medium through which the +father could not communicate with the mother. With the latter she +herself maintained a continuous conversation, and Mr. Brill soon found +it more pleasant to forget his troubles in the charms of Mrs. Jonas, +his other neighbour. + +After the almond-pudding, a succession of speakers ranging from +relatives to old friends, and even the officiating minister, gave +certificates of character to the bride and the bridegroom, amid the +tears of the ladies. Father Jonas made an elaborate speech beginning, +"Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking," and interlarded with Hebrew +quotations. Father Brill expressed the pleasure it gave him to +acknowledge on behalf of himself and his dear wife, the kind things +which had been said, and the delight they felt in seeing their son +settled in the paths of domestic happiness, especially in connection +with a scion of the house of Jonas, of whose virtues much had been +said so deservedly that night. Lazarus declared, amid roars of +laughter, that on this occasion only he would respond for his dear +wife, but he felt sure that for the rest of their lives she would have +the last word. Then the tables were cleared away and dancing began, +which grew livelier as the dawn grew nearer. But long before that, +Salvina had borne her mother away from the hovering bull-dog. Not, +however, without a terrible scene in the homeward cab. All the +volcanic flames Salvina and etiquette had suppressed during the day +shot forth luridly. Burning lava was hurled against her husband, +against her son, against Salvina. An impassioned inventory of the lost +furniture followed, and the refrain of the whole was that she had been +taken to a wedding, when all she wanted was a funeral. + + +IX + +Salvina did not count this break-down against her mother. It was the +natural revolt of nerves tried beyond endurance by Lazarus's trick. +The whole episode intensified her sense of the romantic situation of +her mother, and of the noble courage and dignity with which she +confronted it. She wondered whether she herself would have emerged so +stanchly from the ordeal of meeting a loved but faithless one, and her +protective pity was tempered by a new admiration. Her admiration +increased, when, as the secret gradually leaked out, her mother +maintained an attitude of defiance against the world's sympathy, +refused to hear stigmatizations of her husband, even from old Jonas, +reserving the privilege of denunciation for her own mouth and +Salvina's ear. + +And now began the new life of mother and daughter. With Kitty on the +Continent, Lazarus married, and the father blotted out, they had only +each other. They moved back to the skirts of the Ghetto, and Mrs. +Brill resumed with secret joy her old place among her old cronies. +Inwardly, she had fretted at the loss of them, for which the dignity +of Hackney had been but a shadowy compensation. But to Salvina she +only expressed her outraged pride, the humiliation of it all, and the +poor girl, unconscious of how happy her mother really was among the +Ghetto gossips, tortured her brain during school-hours with the +thought of her mother's lonely misery. And even if Salvina had not +been compelled to give private lessons in the evenings to supplement +their income, she would in any case have relinquished her Bachelorhood +aspirations in order to give her time to her mother. For Mrs. Brill +had no resources within herself, so far as Salvina knew. Even the +great artificial universe of books and newspapers was closed to her. +Salvina resolved to overcome her obstinate reluctance to learn to +read, as soon as the pressure of the other private lessons relaxed. +Meantime, she lived for her mother and her mother on her. + +Oh, the bitterness of those private lessons after the fag of the day; +the toiling to distant places on tired feet; the grinding bargains +imposed by the well-to-do! + +One of these fiends was a beautiful lady, haughty, with fair +complexion and frosted hair, and somehow suggested to Salvina a steel +engraving. She arranged graciously that Salvina should teach her +little girl conversational German at half-a-crown an hour, but when +Salvina started on the first lesson in the luxurious sanctum, she +found two sweetly dressed sisters; who, she was informed, could not +bear to be separated, and might therefore be considered one. The steel +engraving herself sat there, as if to superintend, occasionally asking +for the elucidation of a point. At the second lesson there were two +other little girls, neighbours, the lady informed her, who had thought +it would be a good opportunity for them to learn, too. Salvina +expressed her pleasure and her gratitude to her patroness. At the +third lesson the aunt of the two little girls was also present with a +suspicious air of discipleship. When at end of the month, Salvina +presented her bill at five shillings an hour, the patroness flew into +a towering rage. What did it matter to her how many children partook +of the hour? An hour was an hour and a bargain a bargain. Salvina had +not the courage or the capital to resist. And this life of ever +teaching and never learning went on, week after week, year after year. +For when her salary at the school increased, the additional burden of +Lazarus and his wife and children fell upon her. For her feckless +brother had soon exhausted the patience of Granders Brothers; he had +passed shiftlessly from employment to employment, frequently +dependent on Salvina and his father-in-law till old Jonas had +declared, with all the dignity of his green shade, that his +son-in-law--graceless offspring of a graceless sire--must never darken +his door-step again. + +But the joy Mrs. Brill found in her grandchildren, the filling-out of +her life, repaid Salvina amply for all the pinching necessary to +subsidize her brother's household. She winced, though, to see her +mother drop thoughtlessly into the glossy arm-chair presented by her +absentee husband, and therein ensconced dandle Lazarus's children. +Salvina was too sensitive to remind her mother, and shrank also from +appearing fantastic. But that chair inspired a morbid repugnance, and +one day, taking advantage of the fact that the stuffing began to +extrude, she bought Lazarus a new and better easy-chair without saying +why, and had the satisfaction of noting the relegation of the old one +to a bed-room. + +Two bright spots of colour dappled those long, monotonous years. One +was Kitty; the other was the summer holiday. Kitty's mere letters from +the Continent--she wrote twice during the tour--were a source of +exhilaration as well as of instruction. She brought nearer all those +wonderful places which Salvina still promised herself to behold one +day, though year after year she went steadily to Ramsgate. For her +mother shrank from sea-voyages and strange places, as much as she +loved the familiar beach swarming with Jewish faces and nigger +minstrels. Even Salvina's little scheme of enthroning her mother +expensively on the parade at Clacton-on-Sea, that mother unconsciously +thwarted, though she endured equivalent splendour at Ramsgate at three +guineas a week, with much grumbling over her daughter's extravagance. + +Once indeed when Salvina had seriously projected Paris in the interest +of her French, there had been a quarrel on the subject. There were +many quarrels on many subjects, but it was always one quarrel and had +always the same groundwork of dialogue on Mrs. Brill's part, whatever +the temporal variations. + +"A nice daughter! To trample under foot her own flesh and blood, +because she thinks I'm dependent on her! Well, well, do your own +marketing, you little ignoramus who don't know a skirt steak from a +loin chop; you'll soon see if I don't earn my keep. I earned my living +before you were born, and I can do so still. I'd rather live in one +room than have my blood shed a day longer. I'll send for Kitty--she +never stamps on the little mother. She shan't slave her heart out any +more among strangers, my poor fatherless Kitty. No, we'll live +together, Kitty and I. Lazarus would jump at us--my own dear, handsome +Lazarus. I never see him but he tells me how the children are crying +day and night for their granny, and why don't I go and live with him? +_He_ wouldn't spit upon the mother who suckled him, and even Rhoda +has more respect for me than my own real daughter." + +Such was the basal theme; the particular variation, when the holiday +was concerned, took the shape of religious remonstrance. "And where am +I to get _kosher_ food in Paris? In Ramsgate I enjoy myself; there's a +_kosher_ butcher, and all the people I know. It's as good as London." + +Tears always conquered Salvina. She had an infinite patience with her +mother on these occasions, not resenting the basal theme, but +regarding it as a mere mechanic explosion of nervous irritation, +generated by her lonely life. Sometimes she forgot this and argued, +but was always the more sorry afterward. Not that she did not enjoy +Ramsgate. Her nature that craved for so much and was content with so +little found even Ramsgate a Paradise after a year of the slum-school, +to which she always returned looking almost healthy. But this constant +absorption in her mother's personality narrowed her almost to the same +mental bookless horizon. All the red blood of ambition was sucked away +as by a vampire; her energy was sapped and the unchanging rut of +school-existence combined to fray away her individuality. She never +went into any society; the rare invitation to a social event was +always refused with heart-shrinking. Every year made her more shy and +ungainly, more bent in on herself, and on the little round of school +and home life, which left her indeed too weary in brain and body for +aught beside. She sank into the scholastic old maid, unconsciously +taking on the very gait and accent of Miss Rolver, into the +limitations of whose life she had once had a flash of insight. Yet she +was unaware of her decay; her automatic brain was still alive in one +corner, where the dreams hived and nested. Paris and Rome and the +wonder-places still shone on the horizon, together with the noble +young Bayard, handsome and tender-hearted. And twice or thrice a year +Kitty would flash upon the scene to remind her that there was truly a +world of elegance and adventure. Her mother had begun to worry over +the beautiful Kitty's failure to marry; she had imagined that in those +gilded regions she would have snapped up a South African millionaire +or other ingenuous person. How nearly Kitty had actually come to doing +so, even without the spring-board of Bedford Square, Salvina never +told her. She had kept both Sugarman and Moss M. Rosenstein from +pestering her mother, by telling the Shadchan that Kitty's voice and +Kitty's alone weighed with Kitty in such a matter. When the swarthy +capitalist returned to the Cape, despairing, Salvina had written to +congratulate her sister on her high-mindedness. In the years that +followed, she had to endure many a bad quarter of an hour of maternal +reproach because Kitty did not marry, but Mrs. Brill's vengeance was +unconscious. Kitty herself never heard a word of these complaints; to +her the mother was all wreathed smiles, for she never came without +bringing a trinket, and every one of these trinkets meant days of +happiness. The little lockets and brooches were shown about to all the +neighbours and hitched them on to the bright spheres which Kitty +adorned. Carriages and footmen, soft carpets and gilded mirrors +gleamed in the air. "My Kitty!" rolled under Mrs. Brill's tongue like +a honeyed sweet. Kitty's little gifts, flashing splendidly on the +everyday dulness, made more impression than all the steady monotonous +services of Salvina. For the rest, Salvina conscientiously repaid +these gifts in kind on Kitty's birthdays and other high days. + + +X + +When Salvina was twenty-three years old a change came. Lazarus ceased +to demand assistance: he was cheery and self-confident, and inclined +to chaff Salvina on her prim ways. He removed to a larger house and +her easy-chair disappeared before a more elegant. And the apparent +brightness of her brother's prospects brightened Salvina's. Her +savings increased, and, under the continuous profit of his +self-support, she was soon able to meditate changes on her own +account. Either she would give up her night-teaching--which had been +more and more undermining her system--or she would procure her mother +and Kitty a delightful surprise by migrating back to Hackney. + +Her mind hesitated between the joyous alternatives, lingering +voluptuously now on one, now on the other, but somehow aware that it +would ultimately choose the latter, for Kitty on her rare visits never +failed to grumble at the lowness of the neighbourhood and the expense +of cabs, and Mrs. Brill still yearned to see horses pawing outside her +door-step. But an unexpected visit from Kitty, not six weeks after her +last, and equally unexpected in place--for it was at Salvina's +school--decided the matter suddenly. + +It was about half-past twelve, and Salvina, long since a full +"assistant teacher," was seated at her desk, correcting the German +exercises of a private pupil. Sparsely dotted about the symmetric +benches were a few demure criminals undergoing the punishment of being +kept in, and the air was still heavy with the breaths and odours of +the blissful departed. A severe museum-case, with neatly ticketed +specimens, backed Salvina's chair, and around the spacious room hung +coloured diagrams of animals and plants. Kitty seemed a specimen from +another world as her coquettish Leghorn hat flowering with poppies +burst upon the scholastic scene. + +"Oh, dear, I thought you'd be alone," she said pettishly. + +"Is it anything important? The children don't matter," said Salvina. +"You can tell me in German. I do hope nothing is the matter." + +"No, nothing so alarming as that," Kitty replied in German. "But I +thought I'd find you alone and have a chat." + +"I had to stay here with the children. They must be punished." + +"Seems more like punishing yourself. But have you lunched, then?" + +"No." Salvina flushed slightly. + +"No? What's up? A Jewish fast! Ninth day of Ab, fall of Temple, and +funny things like that. One always seems to stumble upon them in the +East End." + +"How you do rattle on, Kitty!" and Salvina smiled. "No, I shall lunch +as soon as these children are released." + +"But why wait for that?" + +Salvina's blush deepened. "Well, one doesn't want to eat a good dinner +before hungry girls." + +"A good dinner! Why, what in heaven's name do you get? Truffles and +plovers' eggs?" + +"No, but I get a very good meal sent in from the Cooking Centre +opposite, and compared with what these girls get at home, steak and +potatoes are the luxuries of Lucullus." + +"Oh, I don't believe it. They all look fatter than you. Then this is +double punishment for you--extra work and hunger. Do send them away. +They get on my nerves. And have your lunch like a sensible being." +And without waiting for Salvina's assent: "Go along, girls," she said +airily. + +The girls hesitated and looked at Salvina, who coloured afresh, but +said, "Yes, this lady pleads for you, and I said that if you all +promised to--" + +"Oh, yes, teacher," they interrupted enthusiastically, and were off. + +"Well, what I came to tell you, Sally, is that I'm not sure of my +place much longer." + +Salvina turned pale, and that much-tried heart of hers thumped like a +hammer. She waited in silence for the facts. + +"Lily is going to be married." + +"Well? All the more reason for Mabel to have a companion." + +Kitty shook her head. "It's the beginning of the end. Marriage is a +contagious complaint in a family. First one member is taken off, then +another. But that's not the worst." + +"No?" Poor Salvina held her breath. + +"Who do you think is the happy man? You'll never guess." + +"How should I? I don't know their circle." + +"Yes, you do. I mean, you know him." + +Salvina wrinkled her forehead vainly. + +"No, you'll never guess after all these years! Moss M. Rosenstein!" + +"Is it possible?" Salvina gasped. "Lily Samuelson!" + +"Yes--Lily Samuelson!" + +"But he must be an old man by now." + +"Well, _she_ isn't a chicken. And you thought it was such an outrage +of him to ask for _me_. I suppose having once got inside the door to +see me, he had the idea of aspiring higher." + +"Oh, don't say higher, Kitty. Richer, that's all--and now, I should +say, lower, inasmuch as Lily Samuelson stoops to pick up what you +passed by with scorn. And picks him up out of Sugarman's hand, +probably." + +"Yes, it's all very well, and it's revenge enough in a way to think to +myself what I do think to myself, when I see the young couple going +on, and Moss is mortally scared of me, as I shoot him a glare, now and +again. I shouldn't be surprised if he eggs them on to get rid of me. +It would be too bad to be done out of everything." + +"Well, we must hope for the best," said Salvina, kissing her. "After +all, you can always get another place." + +"I'm getting old," Kitty said glumly. + +"You old!" and the anĉmic little school-mistress looked with laughing +admiration at her sister's untarnished radiance. But when Kitty went, +and lunch came, Salvina could not eat it. + + +XI + +It was clear, however, that of the alternatives--giving up the +night-work or returning to Hackney--the latter was the one favoured by +Providence. Kitty might at any moment return to the parental roof, and +there must be something, that Kitty would consider a roof, to shelter +her. + +On Saturday Salvina went house-hunting alone in Hackney, and there--as +if further pointed out by Providence--stood their old house "To let!" +It had a dilapidated air, as if it had stood empty for many moons and +had lost hope. It seemed to her symbolic of her mother's fortunes, and +her imagination leapt at the idea of recuperating both. Very soon she +had re-rented the house, though from another landlord, and the workmen +were in possession, making everything bright and beautiful. Salvina +chose wall-papers of the exact pattern of aforetime, and ordered the +painting and decorations to repeat the old effects. They were to move +in, a few days before the quarter. + +Her happy secret shone in her cheeks, and she felt all bright and +refreshed, as if she, too, were being painted and cleaned and +redecorated. The task of keeping it all from her mother was a great +daily strain, and the secret had to overbrim for the edification of +Lazarus. Lazarus hailed the change with expressions of unselfish joy, +that brought tears into Salvina's eyes. He even went with her to see +how the repairs were getting on, chatted with the workmen, disapproved +of the landlord's stinginess in not putting down new drain pipes, and +made a special call upon that gentleman. + +One day on her return from school Salvina found a postcard to the +effect that the house was ready for occupation. Salvina was for once +glad that she had never yet found time to persuade her mother to learn +to read. She went to feast her eyes on the new-old house and came home +with the key, which she hid carefully till the Sunday afternoon, when +she induced her mother to make an excursion to Victoria Park. The +weather was dull, and the old woman needed a deal of coaxing, +especially as the coaxing must be so subtle as not to arouse +suspicion. + +On the way back in the evening from the Park, which, as there was an +unexpected band playing popular airs, her mother enjoyed, Salvina led +her by the old familiar highways and byways back to the old home, +keeping her engrossed in conversation lest it should suddenly befall +her to ask why they were going that way. The expedient was even more +successful than she had bargained for, Mrs. Brill's sub-consciousness +calmly accepting all the old unchanged streets and sights and sounds, +while her central consciousness was absorbed by the talk. Her legs +trod automatically the dingy Hackney Terrace to which she had so often +returned from her Park outing, her hand pushed open mechanically the +old garden-gate, and as Salvina, breathlessly wondering if the spell +could be kept up till the very last, opened the door with the +latch-key, her mother sank wearily, and with a sigh of satisfaction, +upon the accustomed hall-chair. In that instant of maternal apathy, +the astonishment was wholly Salvina's. That hall-chair on which her +mother sat was the very one which had stood there in the bygone happy +years; the hat-rack was the one with which her father had "eloped"; on +it stood the little flower-pots and on the wall hung the two +engravings of the trials of Lord William Russell and Earl Stafford +exactly in the same place, and facing her stood the open parlour with +all the old furniture and colour. In that uncanny instant Salvina +wondered if she had passed through years of hallucination. There was +her mother, natural and unconcerned, bonneted and jewelled, exactly as +she had come from Camberwell years ago when they had entered the house +together. Perhaps they were still at that moment; she knew from her +studies as well as from experience that you can dream years of +harassing and multiplex experience in a single second. Perhaps there +had been no waking hallucination; perhaps the long waiting for her +mother to appear with the house-key had made her sleepy, and in that +instant of doze she had dreamed all those horrible things--the empty +house, her father's flight, his reappearance at her brother's +marriage; the long years of evening lessons. Perhaps she was still +seventeen, studying the Greek verbs for the Bachelorhood of Arts, +perhaps her mother was still a happy wife. Her eyes filled with tears, +and she let herself dwell upon the wondrous possibility a second or so +longer than she believed in it. For the smell of new paint was too +potent; it routed the persuasions of the old furniture. And in another +instant it had penetrated through Mrs. Brill's fatigue. She started +up, aware of something subtly wrong, ere clearer consciousness dawned. + +"Michael!" she shrieked, groping. + +"Hush, hush, mother!" said Salvina, with a pain as of swords at her +heart. She felt her mother had stumbled--with whatever significance--upon +the word of the enigma. "Another trick has been played on us." + +"A trick!" Mrs. Brill groped further. "But _you_ brought me. How comes +this house here? What has happened?" + +"I wanted to surprise you. I have rented the old house, and some one +else has put in the old furniture." + +"Michael is coming back! You and your father have plotted." + +"Oh, mother! How can you accuse me of such a thing!" All the expected +joy of the surprise had been changed to anguish, she felt, both for +her and for her mother. Oh, what a fatal mistake! "I won't have the +furniture, we'll pitch it into the street--we are going to live here +together, mammy, you and I, in the old home. We can afford it now." + +She laid her cheek to her mother's, but Mrs. Brill broke away +petulantly and ran toward the parlour. "And does he think I'll have +anything to do with him after all these years!" she cried. + +"Dear mother, he doesn't know you if he thinks that!" said Salvina, +following her. + +"No, indeed! And a chip out of my best vase, just as I thought! And +that isn't my chair--he's shoved me in one of a worse set. The +horsehair may seem the same, but look at the legs--no carving at all. +And where's the extra leaf of the table? Gone, too, I daresay. And my +little gilt shovel that used to stand in the fender here, what's +become of that? And do you call this a sofa? with the castors all off! +Oh, my God, she has ruined all my furniture," and she burst into +hysteric tears. + +Salvina could do nothing till the torrent had spent itself. But she +was busy, thinking. She saw that again her brother and her father had +conspired together. Hence Lazarus's officiousness toward the landlord +and the workmen--that he might easily get the entry to the house. But +perhaps the conspiracy had not the significance her mother put upon +it. Perhaps Lazarus was principal, not agent; in the flush of his new +prosperity he had really projected a generous act; perhaps he had +resolved to put the coping-stone on the surprise Salvina was preparing +for her mother, and had hence negotiated with the father for the old +things. If so, she felt she had not the right to make her mother +refuse them; the rather, she must hasten at once to Lazarus to pour +out her appreciation of his thoughtfulness. + +"Come along, mother," she said at last, "don't sit there, crying. I +think Lazarus must have bought back the things for you. You see, +mammy, I wanted to give you a little surprise, and dear Lazarus has +given _me_ a little surprise." + +"Do you really think it's only Lazarus?" asked Mrs. Brill, and to +Salvina's anxious ear there seemed a shade of disappointment in the +tone. + +"I'm sure it is--father couldn't possibly have the impudence. After +all these years, too!" + +But when she at last got her mother to Lazarus, that gentleman +confessed aggressively that he had been only the agent. + +"I don't see why you shouldn't let the poor old man come back," he +said. "The other person died a year ago, only nobody liked to tell +mother, she was so bristly and snappy." + +"Ah," interrupted Mrs. Brill exultantly, "then Heaven has heard my +curses. May she burn in the lowest Gehenna. May her body become one +yellow flame like her dyed hair." + +"Hush!" said Salvina sternly. "God shall judge the dead." + +"Oh, of course you always take everybody's part against your mother." +And Mrs. Brill burst into tears again and sank into the new +easy-chair. + +"I do think mother's right," said Lazarus sullenly. "Why do you stand +in her way?" + +"I?" Salvina was paralyzed. + +"Yes, if it wasn't for you--" + +"Mother, do you hear what Lazarus is saying? That I keep you from +father!" + +"Father! A pretty father to you! He waits till she's dead, and then he +wants to creep back to us. But let him lie on her grave. He'll swell +to bursting before he crosses my door-step." + +"There, Lazarus, do you hear?" + +"Yes, I hear," he said incredulously. "But does she know what father +offers her--every comfort, every luxury? He is rich now." + +"Rich?" said Mrs. Brill. "The old swindler!" + +"He didn't swindle--he's very sorry for the past now, and awfully kind +and generous." + +Salvina had a flash of insight. "Ho! So this is why--" She checked +herself and looked round the handsome room, and the new easy-chair in +which her mother sat became suddenly as hateful as the old. + +"Well, suppose it is?" said Lazarus defiantly. "I don't see why we +shouldn't share in his luck." + +"And where does the luck come from?" Salvina demanded. + +"What's that to do with us? From the Stock Exchange, I believe." + +"And where did he get the money to gamble with?" + +"Oh, they always had money." + +Salvina's eyes blazed. The nerveless creature of the school became a +fury. "And you'd touch that!" + +"Hang it all, he owes us reparation. You, too, Salvina--he is anxious +to do everything for you. He says you must chuck up school--it's +simply wearing you away. He says he wants to take you abroad--to +Paris." + +"Oh, and so he thinks he'll get round mother by getting round me, does +he? But let him take his furniture away at once, or we'll pitch it +into the street. At once, do you hear?" + +"He won't mind." Lazarus smiled irritatingly. "He wants to put better +furniture in, and his real desire is to move to a big house in +Highbury New Park. But I persuaded him to put back the old +furniture--I thought it would touch you--a token, you know, that he +wanted 'auld lang syne.'" + +"Yes, yes, I understood," said Salvina, and then she thought suddenly +of Kitty and a burst of hysteric laughter caught her. "Elopements +economically conducted," went through her mind. "By the day or hour!" +And she imagined the new phrases Kitty would coin. "The Prodigal +Father and the Pantechnicon"--"The old Love and the old Furniture," +and the wild laughter rang on, till Lazarus was quite disconcerted. + +"I don't see where the fun comes in," he said wrathfully. "Father is +very sorry, indeed he is. He quite cried to me--on that very chair +where mother is sitting. I swear to you he did. And you have the heart +to laugh!" + +"Would you have me cry, too? No, no; I am glad he is punished." + +"Yes--a nice miserable lonely old age he has before him." + +"He has plenty of money." + +"You're a cold, unfeeling minx! I don't envy the man who marries you, +Salvina." + +Salvina flushed. "I don't, either--if he were to treat me as mother +has been treated." + +"Yes, no one has had a life like mine, since the world began," moaned +Mrs. Brill, and her waning tears returned in full flood. + +"My poor mammy," and Salvina put a handkerchief to the flooded cheeks. +"Come home, we have had enough of this." + +Mrs. Brill rose obediently. + +"Oh, yes, take her home," said Lazarus savagely, "take her to your +shabby, stinking lodging, when she might have a house in Highbury New +Park and three servants." + +"She has a house at Hackney, and I'll give her a servant, too. Come, +mother." + +Salvina mopped up her mother's remaining tears, and with an +inspiration of arrogant independence, she rang for Lazarus's servant +and bade her hail a hansom cab. + +"If you don't want all Hackney to come and gaze at a furnished road," +she said, in parting, "you'll take away that furniture yourself." + +Mrs. Brill bowled homeward, half consoled for everything by this +charioted magnificence. Some neighbours stood by gossiping as she +alighted, and then her unspoken satisfaction was complete. + + +XII + +They moved into the new-old house, after Salvina had carefully +ascertained that the furniture had returned to the cloud under which +it had so long lived. In her resentment against its reappearance, she +spent more than she could afford on the rival furniture that succeeded +it, and which she now studied to make unlike it, so that quite without +any touch of conscious taste, it became light, elegant, and even +artistic in comparison with the old horsehair massiveness. + +Then began a very bad year for Salvina, even though the Damocles sword +of Kitty's dismissal never fell, and Lily's migration to the Cape with +Moss M. Rosenstein left Kitty still in power as companion to Mabel, to +judge at least by Kitty's not seeking the parental roof, even as +visitor. Mrs. Brill's happiness did not keep pace with the restored +grandeurs and Salvina's own spurt of hope died down. She grew wanner +than ever, going listlessly to her work and returning limp and fagged +out. + +"You mew me up here with not a soul to speak to from morning till +night," her mother burst forth one day. + +Salvina was not sorry to have her mother's silent lachrymosity thus +interpreted. But she regretted that her helpless parent had not +expressed her satisfaction with gossip when the Ghetto provided it, +instead of yearning for higher scenes. She tried again to persuade +Mrs. Brill to learn to read by way of mental resource, and Mrs. Brill +indeed made some spasmodic efforts to master the alphabet and the +vagaries of pronunciation from an infant's primer. But her brain was +too set; and she forgot from word to word, and made bold bad guesses, +so that even when "a fat cat sat on a mat" she was capable of making a +fat cow eat in a mug. She struggled loyally though, except when +Salvina's attention relaxed for an instant, and then she would proceed +by leaps and bounds, like a cheating child with the teacher's eye off +it, getting over five lines in the time she usually took to spell out +one, and paradoxically pleased with herself at her rapid progress. + +Salvina was in despair. There is no crêche for mothers, or she might +have sent Mrs. Brill to one. She bethought herself of at last laying +on a servant, as providing the desired combination of grandeur and +gossip. To pay for the servant she undertook two hours of extra +night-teaching. But the maid-of all-work proved only an exhaustless +ground for grumbling. Mrs. Brill had never owned a servant, and the +girl's deviation from angelhood of character and unerring perfection +of action in every domestic department were a constant disappointment +and grief to the new mistress. + +"A nice thing you have done for me," she wept to Salvina, having +carefully ascertained the servant was out of ear-shot, "to seat a +mistress on my head--and for that I must pay her into the bargain." + +"Aren't you glad you haven't got three servants?" said Salvina, with a +touch of irresistible irony. + +"Don't throw up to me that you're saving me from falling on your +father. I can be my own bread-winner. I don't want your doll's house +furniture that one is scared to touch--like walking among eggshells. +I'd rather live in one room and scrub floors than be beholden to +anybody. Then I should be my own mistress, and not under a daughter's +thumb. If only Kitty would marry, then I could go to _her_. Why +doesn't she marry? It isn't as if she were like you. Is there a +prettier girl in the whole congregation? It's because she's got no +money, my poor, hardworking little Kitty. Her father would give her a +dowry, if he were a man, not a pig." + +"Mother!" Salvina was white and trembling. "How can you dream of +that?" + +"Not for myself. I'd see him rot before I'd take a farthing of his +money. But I'm not domineering and spiteful like you. I don't stand in +the way of other people benefiting. The money will only go to some +other vermin. Kitty may as well have some." + +"Lazarus has some. That's enough, and more than enough." + +"Lazarus deserves it--he is a better son to me than you are a +daughter!" and the tears fell again. + +Salvina cast about for what to do. Her mother's nerves were no doubt +entirely disorganized by her sufferings and by the shock of Lazarus's +trick. Some radical medicine must be applied. But every day Duty took +Salvina to school and harassed her there and drove her to private +lessons afterward, and left her neither the energy nor the brain for +further innovations. And whenever she met Lazarus by accident--for she +was too outraged to visit a house practically kept up by dishonourable +money, apart from her objection to its perpetually festive atmosphere +of solo-whist supper-parties--he would sneer at her high and mighty +airs in casting out the furniture. "Oh, we're very grand now, we keep +a servant; we have cut our father off with a shilling." + +She wished her mother would not go to see Lazarus, but she felt she +had not the right to interfere with these visits, though Mrs. Brill +returned from them, fretful and restive. Evidently Lazarus must be +still insinuating reconciliation. + +"Lazarus worries you, mother, I feel sure," she ventured to say once. + +"Oh, no, he is a good son. He wants me to live with him." + +"What! On _her_ money!" + +"It isn't her money--your father made it on the Stock Exchange." + +"Who told you so?" + +"Didn't you hear Lazarus say so yourself?" + +Then a horrible suspicion came to Salvina. "He doesn't set father at +you when you go there?" she cried. + +Mrs. Brill flushed furiously. "I'd like to see him try it on," she +murmured. + +Salvina stooped to kiss her. "But he tells you tales of father's +riches, I suppose." + +"Who wants his riches? If he offered me my own horse and carriage, I +wouldn't be seen with him after the disgrace he's put upon me." + +"I wish, mother, Lazarus had inherited your sense of honour." + +Mrs. Brill was pleased. "There isn't a woman in the world with more +pride! Your father made a mistake when he began with me!" + + +XIII + +A horse and carriage did come, one flamboyant afternoon, but it was +the Samuelsons', and brought the long-absent Kitty. And Kitty as usual +brought a present. This time it was a bracelet, and Mrs. Brill clasped +and unclasped it ecstatically, feeling that she had at least one +daughter who loved her and did not domineer. Salvina was at school, +and Mrs. Brill took Kitty all over the house, enjoying her approval, +and accepting all the praise for the lighter and more artistic +furniture. She told her of the episode of the return of the old +furniture--"And didn't have the decency to put new castors on the sofa +she had sprawled on!" + +Kitty's laughter was as loud and ringing as Salvina had anticipated; +Mrs. Brill coloured under it, as though _she_ were found food for +laughter. "What a ridiculous person he is!" Kitty added hastily. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Brill with eager pride and relief. "He thought he +could coax me back like a dog with a bit of sugar." + +"It would be too funny to live with him again." And Kitty's eyes +danced. + +"Do you think so?" said Mrs. Brill anxiously. And under the sunshine +of her daughter's approval she confided to her that he had really +turned up twice at Lazarus's, beautifully costumed, with diamonds on +his fingers and a white flower in his button-hole, but that she had +repulsed him as she would repulse a drunken heathen. He had put his +arms round her, but she had shaken him off as one shakes off a black +beetle. + +Kitty turned away and stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth. She +knew there was a tragic side, but the comic aspect affected her more. + +"Then you think I was right?" Mrs. Brill wound up. + +"Of course," Kitty said soothingly. "What do you want of him?" + +"But don't tell Salvina, or she'd eat my head off." And then, the +eager upleaping fountain of her mother's egoistic babblings beginning +at last to trickle thinly, Kitty found a breathing-space in which to +inform her of the great news that throbbed in her own breast. + +"Lily Samuelson's dead! Mrs. Rosenstein, you know!" + +"Oh, my God!" ejaculated Mrs. Brill, trembling like a leaf. Nothing +upset her more than to find that persons within her ken could actually +die. + +"Yes, we had a cable from the Cape yesterday." + +"Hear, O Israel! Let me see--yes, she must have died in child-birth." + +"She did--the house is all in hysterics. I couldn't stand it any +longer. I ordered the carriage and came here." + +"My poor Kitty! That Lily was too old to have a baby. And now he will +marry Mabel." + +"Oh, no, mother." + +"Oh, yes, he will. Mabel will jump at him, you'll see." + +"But it isn't legal--you can't marry your deceased wife's sister." + +"I know you can't in England--what foolishness! But they'll go to +Holland to be married." + +"Don't be so absurd, mother." + +"Absurd!" Mrs. Brill glared. "You mark my words. They'll be in Holland +before the year's out, like Hyam Emanuel's eldest brother-in-law and +the red-haired sister of Samuel, the pawnbroker." + +"Well, I don't care if they are," said Kitty, yawning. + +"Don't care! Why, you'll lose your place. They kept you on for Mabel, +but now--" + +Kitty cut her short. "Don't worry, mother. I'll be all right. He's not +married Mabel yet." + +This reminder seemed to come to Mrs. Brill like a revelation, so fast +had her imagination worked. She calmed down and Kitty took the +opportunity to seek to escape. "Tell Salvina the news," she said. +"She'll be specially interested in it. In fact, judging by the last +time, she'll be more excited than I am," and she smiled somewhat +mysteriously. "Tell her I'm sorry I missed her--I was hoping to find +her having a holiday, but apparently I haven't been lucky enough to +strike some Jewish fast." + +But partly because Mrs. Brill was enraptured by her beautiful +daughter, partly to keep the pompous equipage outside her door as long +as possible, she detained Kitty so unconscionably that Salvina arrived +from school. Kitty flew to embrace her as usual, but arrested herself, +shocked. + +"Why, Sally!" she cried. "You look like a ghost! What's the matter?" + +"Nothing," said Salvina with a wan smile. "Just the excitement of +seeing you, I suppose." + +Kitty performed the postponed embrace but remained dubious and shaken. +Was it that her mind was morbidly filled with funereal images, or was +it that her fresh eye had seen what her mother's custom-blinded vision +had missed--that there was death in Salvina's face? + +This face of death-in-life stirred up unwonted emotions in Kitty and +made her refrain apprehensively from speaking again of Lily's death; +and some days later, when the first bustle of grief had subsided in +Bedford Square, Kitty, still haunted by that grewsome vision, wrote +Salvina a letter. + + "MY DEAR OLD SALLY,--You must really draw in your horns. You + were not looking at all well the other day. You are burning the + candle at both ends, I am sure. That horrid Board School is + killing you. I am going to beg a fortnight's holiday for you, + and I am going to take you to Boulogne for a week, and then, + when you are all braced up again, we can have the second week at + Paris." + + "MY DEAREST AND BEST OF SISTERS," [Salvina replied,] "How + shocking the news mother has told me of the death of poor Lily! + If she did wrong she was speedily punished. But let us hope she + really loved him. I am sure that your brooding on her sad fate + and your sympathy with the family in this terrible affliction + has made you fancy all sorts of things about me, just as mother + is morbidly apprehensive of that horrible creature marrying + Mabel and thus robbing you of your place. But your sweet letter + did me more good than if I had really gone to Paris. How did you + know it was the dream of my life? But it cannot be realized just + yet, for it would be impossible for me to be spared from school + just now. Miss Green is away with diphtheria, and as this is + examination time, Miss Rolver has her hands full. Besides, + mother would be left alone. Don't worry about me, darling. I + always feel like this about this time of year, but the summer + holiday is not many weeks off and Ramsgate always sets me up + again. + + "Your loving sister, + "SALVINA. + + "P.S. Mother told me you advised her not to go to Lazarus's any + more, and she isn't going. I am so glad, dear. These visits have + worried her, as Lazarus is so persistent. I am only sorry I + didn't think of enlisting your influence before--it is naturally + greater than mine. Good-bye, dear. + + "P.P.S. I find I have actually forgotten to thank you for your + generous offer. But you know all that is in my heart, don't you, + darling?" + +All the same Kitty's alarm began to communicate itself to Salvina, +especially after repeated if transient premonitions of fainting in her +class-room. For what would happen if she really fell ill? She could +get sick leave of course for a time; though that would bring her under +the eagle eye of the Board Doctor, before which every teacher quailed. +He might brutally pronounce her unfit for service. And how if she did +break down permanently? Or if she died! Her savings were practically +nil; her salary ceased with her breath. Who would support her mother? +Kitty of course would nobly take up the burden, but it would be +terribly hard on her, especially when Mabel Samuelson should come to +marry. Not that she was going to die, of course; she was too used to +being sickly. Death was only a shadow, hovering far off. + + +XIV + +What was to be done? An inspiration came to her in the shape of a +pamphlet. Life Assurance! Ah, that was it. Scottish Widows' Fund! How +peculiarly apposite the title. If her mother could be guaranteed a +couple of thousand pounds, Death would lose its sting. Salvina +carefully worked out all the arithmetical points involved, and +discovered to her surprise that life assurance was a form of gambling. +The Company wagered her that she would live to a certain age, and she +wagered that she would not. But after a world of trouble in filling up +documents and getting endorsers, when she went before the Company's +Doctor she was refused. The bet was not good enough. "Heart weak," was +the ruthless indictment. "You ought not to teach," the Doctor even +told her privately, and amid all her consternation Salvina was afraid +lest by some mysterious brotherhood he should communicate with the +Board Doctor and rob her of her situation. She began praying to God +extemporaneously, in English. That was, for her, an index of +impotence. She was at the end of her resources. She could see only a +blank wall, and the wall was a great gravestone on which was +chiselled: "_Hic jacet_, Salvina Brill, School Board Teacher, +Undergraduate of London University. Unloved and unhappy." + +She wept over the inscription, being still romantic. Poor mother, poor +Kitty, what a blow her death would be to them! Even Lazarus would be +sorry. And in the thought of them she drifted away from the rare mood +of self-pity and wondered again how she could get together enough +money before she died to secure her mother's future. But no suggestion +came even in answer to prayer. Once she thought of the Stock Exchange, +but it seemed to her vaguely wicked to conjure with stocks and shares. +She had read articles against it. Besides, what did she understand? +True, she understood as much as her father. But who knew whether his +money really came from this source? She dismissed the Stock Exchange +despairingly. + +And meanwhile Mrs. Brill continued peevish and lachrymose, and Salvina +found it more and more difficult to hide her own melancholy. One day, +as she was leaving the school-premises, Sugarman the Shadchan +accosted her. "Do make a beginning," he said winningly. "Only a +sixteenth of a ticket. You can't lose." + +Sugarman still never thought of her even as a refuge for impecunious +bachelors, but with that shameless pertinacity which was the secret of +his success, both as British marriage-maker and continental lottery +agent, he had never ceased cajoling her toward his other net. He was +now destined to a success which surprised even himself. Her scrupulous +conscientiousness undermined by her analysis of the Assurance System, +Salvina inquired eagerly as to the prizes, and bought three whole +tickets at a quarter of the price of one Assurance instalment. + +Sugarman made a careful note of the numbers, and so did Salvina. But +it was unnecessary in her case. They were printed on her brain, graven +on her heart, repeated in her prayers; they hovered luminous across +her day-dreams, and if they distracted feverishly her dreams of the +night, yet they tinged the school-routine pleasantly and made her +mother's fretfulness endurable. They actually improved her health, and +as the May sunshine warmed the earth, Salvina felt herself bourgeoning +afresh, and she told herself her fears were morbid. + +Nevertheless there was one thing she was resolved to complete, in case +she were truly doomed, and that was her mother's education in reading, +so often begun, so often foiled by her mother's pertinacious +subsidence into contented ignorance. Of what use even to assure Mrs. +Brill's physical future, if her mind were to be left a pauper, +dependent on others? How, without the magic resource of books, could +she get through the long years of age, when decrepitude might confine +her to the chimney-corner? Already her talk groaned with aches and +pains. + +Since the servant had been installed, the reading lessons had dropped +off and finally been discontinued. Now that Salvina persisted in +continuing, she found that her mother's brain had retained nothing. +Mrs. Brill had to begin again at the alphabet, and all the old routine +of audacious guessing recommenced. Again a fat cow ate in a mug, for +though Mrs. Brill had no head at all for corrections, she had a +wonderful memory for her own mistakes, and took the whole sentence at +a confident jump. It was an old friend. + +One evening, in the kitchen to which Mrs. Brill always gravitated when +the servant was away, she paused between her misreadings to dilate on +the inconsiderateness of the servant in having this day out, though +she was paid for the full week, and though the mistress had to stick +at home and do all the work. As Salvina seemed to be spiritless this +evening, and allowed the domestic to go undefended, this topic was +worn out more quickly than usual, but the never failing subject of +Mrs. Brill's aches and pains provided more pretexts for dodging the +hard words. And meantime in a chair beside hers, poor Salvina, silent +as to her own aches and pains, and the faintness which was coming over +her, strained her attention to follow in correction on the heels of +her mother's reading; but do what she would, she could not keep her +eyes continuously on the little primer, and whenever Mrs. Brill became +aware that Salvina's attention had relaxed, she scampered along at a +breakneck speed, taking trisyllables as unhesitatingly as a hunter a +three-barred gate. But every now and again Salvina would struggle back +into concentration, and Mrs. Brill would tumble at the first ditch. + +At last, Mrs. Brill, to her content, found herself cantering along, +unimpeded, for a great stretch. Salvina lay back in her chair, dead. + +"The broken dancer only merry danger," read Mrs. Brill, at a joyous +gallop. Suddenly the knocker beat a frantic tattoo on the street door. +Up jumped Mrs. Brill, in sheer nervousness. + +Salvina lay rigid, undisturbed. + +"She's fallen asleep," thought her mother, guiltily conscious of +having taken advantage of her slumbers. "All the same, she might spare +my aged bones the trouble of dragging upstairs." But, being already on +her feet, she mounted the stairs, and opened the door on Sugarman's +beaming, breathless face. + +"Your daughter--Number 75,814," he gasped. + +Mrs. Brill, who knew nothing of Salvina's speculations, took some +seconds to catch his drift. + +"What, what?" she cried, trembling. + +"I have won her a hundred thousand marks--the great prize!" + +"The great prize!" screamed Mrs. Brill. "Salvina! Salvina! Come up," +and not waiting for her reply, and overturning the flower-pots on the +hall-table, she flew downstairs, helter-skelter. "Salvina!" she shook +her roughly. "Wake up! You have won the great prize!" + +But Salvina did not wake up, though she had won the great prize. + + +XV + +One Sunday afternoon nearly five months later a nondescript series of +vehicles, erratically and unpunctually succeeding one another, drew up +near the mortuary of the Jewish cemetery, but, from the presence of +women, it was obvious that something else than a funeral was in +progress. In fact, the two four-wheelers, three hansom cabs, several +dog-carts, and one open landau suggested rather a picnic amid the +tombs. But it was only the ceremony of the setting of Salvina's +tombstone, which was attracting all these relatives and well-wishers. + +In the landau--which gave ample space for their knees--sat the same +quartette that had shared a cab to Lazarus's wedding, except that +Salvina was replaced by Kitty. That ever young and beautiful person +was the only member of the family who had the air of having fallen in +the world, for despite that Salvina's great prize was now added to Mr. +Brill's capital (he being the legal heir), he had refused to set up a +groom in addition to a carriage. A coachman, he insisted, was all that +was necessary. It was the same tone that he had taken about the +horsehair sofa, and it helped Mrs. Brill to feel that her husband was +unchanged, after all. + +Arrived on the ground, the Brills found a gathering of the Jonases, +reconciled by death and riches. Others were to arrive, and the party +distributed itself about the cemetery with an air of conscious +incompleteness. Old Jonas shook hands cordially with Lazarus, and +wiped away a tear from under his green shade. A few of Salvina's +fellow-teachers had obeyed the notification of the advertisement in +the Jewish papers, and were come to pay the last tribute of respect. +The men wore black hat-bands, the women crape, which on all the nearer +relatives already showed signs of wear. And among all these groups, +conversing amiably of this or that in the pleasant October sunshine, +the genteel stone-mason insinuated himself, pervading the gathering. +His breast was divided between anxiety as to whether the parents would +like the tombstone, and uncertainty as to whether they would pay on +the spot. + +"Have you seen the stone? What do you think of it?" he kept saying to +everybody, with a deferential assumption of artistic responsibility; +though, as it was a handsome granite stone, the bulk of the chiselling +had been done in Aberdeen, for the sake of economy, whilst the stone +was green, and his own contribution had been merely the Hebrew +lettering. One by one, under the guidance of the artist, the groups +wandered toward the tombstone, and a spectator or two admiringly +opened negotiations for future contingencies. An old lady who knew the +stonemason's sister-in-law strove to make a bargain for her own +tombstone, quite forgetting that the money she was saving on it would +not be enjoyed by herself. + +"What will you charge _me_?" she asked, with grotesque coquetry. "I +think you ought to do it cheaper for _me_." + +And in the House of the Priests the minister in charge of the +ceremonial impatiently awaited the late comers, that he might intone +the beautiful immemorial Psalms. He had made a close bargain with the +cabman, and was anxious not to set him grumbling over the delay; apart +from his desire to get back to his pretty wife, who was "at home" that +afternoon. + +At last the genteel stone-mason found an opportunity of piercing +through the throng of friends that surrounded Mr. Brill, and of +obsequiously inviting the generous orderer of this especially +handsome and profitable tombstone to inspect it. Kitty followed in the +wake of her parents. Almost at the tomb, a corpulent man with graying +hair, issuing suddenly from an avenue of headstones, accosted her. She +frowned. + +"You oughtn't to have come," she said. + +"Since I belong to the family, Kitty," he remonstrated, playing +nervously with his massive watch seals. + +"No, you don't," she retorted. Then, relentingly: "I told you, Moss, +that I could not give you my formal consent till after my sister's +tombstone was set. That is the least respect I can pay her." And she +turned away from the somewhat disconcerted Rosenstein, feeling very +right-minded and very forgiving toward Salvina for delaying by so many +years her marriage with the South African magnate. + +Meantime Mr. Brill, in his heavily draped high hat, stood beside the +pompous granite memorial, surveying it approvingly. His wife's hand +lay tenderly in his own. Underneath their feet lay the wormy dust that +had once palpitated with truth and honour, that had kept the +conscience of the household. + +"That bit of scroll-work," said the stone-mason admiringly, and with +an air of having thrown it in at a loss; "you don't often see a bit +like that--everybody's been saying so." + +"Very fine!" replied Mr. Brill obediently. + +"I paid the synagogue bill for you--to save you trouble," added the +stone-mason, insinuatingly. + +But Mr. Brill was abstractedly studying the stone, and the mason moved +off delicately. Mrs. Brill tried to spell out a few of the words, but, +as there was no one to reprimand her, admitted her break-down. + +"Read it to me, dear heart," she whispered to Mr. Brill. + +"I did read it you, my precious one," he said, "when Kitty sent it us. +It says:-- + + "'SALVINA BRILL, + Whom God took suddenly, + On May 29th, 1897, + Aged twenty-five; + Loved and lamented by all + For her perfect goodness.' + +Then come the Hebrew letters." + +"Poor Salvina!" sighed Mrs. Brill. "She deserves it, though she did +spoil our lives for years." He pressed her hand. "I can't tell you how +frightened I was of her," she went on. "She almost made me think I +ought not to forgive you even on the Day of Atonement. But I don't +bear her malice, and I don't grudge her what the stone says." + +"No, you mustn't," he said piously. "Besides, everybody knows one +never puts the whole truth on tombstones." + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VIII + +SATAN MEKATRIG + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VIII + +SATAN MEKATRIG + + "_Suffer not the evil imagination to have dominion over us ... + deliver me from the destructive Satan._"--Morning Prayer. + + +Without, the air was hot, heavy and oppressive; squadrons of dark +clouds had rolled up rapidly from the rim of the horizon, and +threatened each instant to shake heaven and earth with their +artillery. But within the little synagogue of the "Congregation of +Love and Mercy," though it was crowded to suffocation, not a window +was open. The worshippers, arrayed in their Sabbath finery, were too +intent on following the quaint monotonous sing-song of the Cantor +reading the Law to have much attention left for physical discomfort. +They thought of their perspiring brows and their moist undergarments +just about as little as they thought of the meaning of the Hebrew +words the reader was droning. Though the language was perfectly +intelligible to them, yet their consciousness was chiefly and +agreeably occupied with its musical accentuation, their piety being so +interwoven with these beloved and familiar material elements as hardly +to be separable therefrom. Perspiration, too, had come to seem almost +an ingredient of piety on great synagogal occasions. Frequent +experience had linked the two, as the poor opera-goer associates Patti +with crushes. And the present was a great occasion. It was only an +ordinary Sabbath afternoon service, but there was a feast of +intellectual good things to follow. The great Rav Rotchinsky from +Brody was to deliver a sermon; and so the swarthy, eager-eyed, +curly-haired, shrewd-visaged cobblers, tailors, cigar-makers, +peddlers, and beggars, who made up the congregation, had assembled in +their fifties to enjoy the dialectical subtleties, the theological +witticisms and the Talmudical anecdotes which the reputation of the +Galician Maggid foreshadowed. And not only did they come themselves; +many brought their wives, who sat in their wigs and earrings behind a +curtain which cut them off from the view of the men. The general +ungainliness of their figures and the unattractiveness of their +low-browed, high-cheekboned, and heavy-jawed faces would have made +this pious precaution appear somewhat superfluous to an outsider. The +women, whose section of the large room thus converted into a place of +worship was much smaller than the men's, were even more closely packed +on their narrow benches. Little wonder, therefore, that just as a +member of the congregation was intoning from the central platform the +blessing which closes the reading of the Law, a woman disturbed her +neighbours by fainting. She was carried out into the open air, though +not without a good deal of bustle, which invoked indignant +remonstrances in the Jüdisch-Deutsch jargon, of "Hush, little women!" +from the male worshippers, unconscious of the cause. The beadle went +behind the curtain, and, fearing new disturbances, tried to open the +window at the back of the little room, to let in some air from the +back-yard on which it abutted. The sash was, however, too inert from a +long season of sloth to move even in its own groove, and so the beadle +elbowed his way back into the masculine department, and by much +tugging at a cord effected a small slit between a dusty skylight and +the ceiling, neglecting the grumblings of the men immediately beneath. + +Hardly had he done so, when all the heavy shadows that lay in the +corners of the synagogue, all the glooms that the storm-clouds cast +upon the day, and that the grimy, cobwebbed windows multiplied, were +sent flying off by a fierce flash of lightning that bathed in a sea of +fire the dingy benches, the smeared walls, the dingily curtained Ark, +the serried rows of swarthy faces. Almost on the heels of the +lightning came the thunder--that vast, instantaneous crash which +denotes that the electric cloud is low. + +The service was momentarily interrupted; the congregation was on its +feet; and from all parts rose the Hebrew blessing, "Blessed art thou, +O Lord, performing the work of the Creation;" followed, as the +thunder followed the lightning, by the sonorous "Blessed art thou, O +Lord, whose power and might fill the Universe." Then the congregation, +led by the great Rav Rotchinsky, to whose venerable thought-lined +face, surmounted by its black cap, all eyes had instinctively turned, +sat down again, feeling safe. The blessing was intended to mean, and +meant no more than, a reverential acknowledgment of the majesty of the +Creator revealed in elemental phenomena; but human nature, struggling +amid the terrors and awfulness of the Universe, is always below its +creed, and scarce one but felt the prayer a talisman. A moment +afterward all rose again, as Moshé Grinwitz, wrapped in his Talith, or +praying-shawl, prepared to descend from the _Al Memor_, or central +platform, bearing in his arms the Scroll of the Law, which had just +been reverentially wrapped in its bandages, and devoutly covered with +its embroidered mantle and lovingly decorated with its ornamental +bells and pointer. + +Now, as Moshé Grinwitz stood on the _Al Memor_ with his sacred burden, +another terrible flash of lightning and appalling crash of thunder +startled the worshippers. And Moshé's arms were nervously agitated, +and a frightful thought came into his head. _Suppose he should drop +the Holy Scroll!_ As this dreadful possibility occurred to him he +trembled still more. The _Sepher Torah_ is to the Jew at once the most +precious and the most sacred of possessions, and in the eyes of the +"Congregation of Love and Mercy" their _Sepher Torah_ was, if +possible, invested with a still higher preciousness and sanctity, +because they had only one. They were too poor to afford luxuries; and +so this single Scroll was the very symbol and seal of their +brotherhood; in it lay the very possibility of their existence as a +congregation. Not that it would be rendered "_Pasul_," imperfect and +invalid, by being dropped; the fall could not erase any of the letters +so carefully written on the parchment; but the calamity would be none +the less awful and ominous. Every person present would have to abstain +for a day from all food and drink, in sign of solemn grief. Moshé felt +that if the idea that had flitted across his brain were to be +realized, he would never have the courage to look his pious wife in +the face after such passive profanity. The congregation, too, which +honoured him, and which now waited to press devout kisses on the +mantle of the Scroll, on its passage to the Ark--he could not but be +degraded in its eyes by so negligent a performance of a duty which was +a coveted privilege. All these thoughts, which were instinctively +felt, rather than clearly conceived, caused Moshé Grinwitz to clasp +the Sacred Scroll, which reached a little above his head, tightly to +his breast. Feeling secure from the peril of dropping it, he made a +step forward, but the bells jangled weirdly to his ears, and when he +came to the two steps which led down from the platform, a horrible +foreboding overcame him that he would stumble and fall in the descent. +He stepped down one of the steps with morbid care, but lo! the feeling +that no power on earth could prevent his falling gained tenfold in +intensity. An indefinable presentiment of evil was upon him; the air +was charged with some awful and maleficent influence, of which the +convulsion of nature seemed a fit harbinger. And now his sensations +became more horrible. The conviction of the impending catastrophe +changed into a desire to take an active part in it, to have it done +with and over. His arms itched to loose their hold of the _Sepher +Torah_. Oh! if he could only dash the thing to the ground, nay, stamp +upon it, uttering fearful blasphemies, and shake off this dark cloud +that seemed to close round and suffocate him. A last shred of will, of +sanity, wrestled with his wild wishes. The perspiration poured in +streams down his forehead. It was but a moment since he had taken the +Holy Scroll into his arms; but it seemed ages ago. + +His foot hovered between the first and second step, when a strange +thing happened. Straight through the narrow slit opened in the +skylight came a swift white arrow of flame, so dazzling that the awed +worshippers closed their eyes; then a long succession of terrific +peals shook the room as with demoniac laughter, and when the +congregants came to their senses and opened their eyes they saw Moshé +Grinwitz sitting dazed upon the steps of the _Al Memor_, his hands +tightly grasping the ends of his praying-shawl, while the _Sepher +Torah_ lay in the dust of the floor. + +For a moment the shock was such that no one could speak or move. There +was an awful, breathless silence, broken only by the mad patter of the +rain on the roof and the windows. The floodgates of heaven were opened +at last, and through the fatal slit a very cascade of water seemed to +descend. Automatically the beadle rushed to the cord and pulled the +window to. His action broke the spell, and a dozen men, their swarthy +faces darker with concern, rushed to raise up the prostrate Scroll, +while a hubbub of broken ejaculations rose from every side. + +But ere a hand could reach it, Moshé Grinwitz had darted forward and +seized the precious object. "No, no," he cried, in the jargon which +was the common language of all present. "What do you want? The +_mitzvah_ (good deed) is mine. I alone must carry it." He shouldered +it anew. + +"Kiss it, at least," cried the great Rav Rotchinsky in a hoarse, +shocked whisper. + +"Kiss it?" cried Moshé Grinwitz, with a sneering laugh. "What! with my +wife in synagogue! Isn't it enough that I embrace it?" Then, without +giving his hearers time to grasp the profanity of his words, he went +on: "Ah, now I can carry thee easily. I can hold thee, and yet breathe +freely. See!" And he held out the Scroll lengthwise, showing the +gilded metal chain and the pointer and the bells contorted by the +lightning. "I didn't hurt thee; God hurt thee," he said, addressing +the Scroll. With a quick jerk of the hand he drew off the mantle and +showed the parchment blackened and disfigured. + +A groan burst from some; others looked on in dazed silence. The +pecuniary loss, added to the manifestation of Divine wrath, +overwhelmed them. "Thou hast no soul now to struggle out of my hands," +went on Moshé Grinwitz contemptuously. "Look!" he added suddenly: "The +lightning has gone back to hell again!" The men nearest him shuddered, +and gazed down at the point on the floor toward which he was inclining +the extremity of the Scroll. The wood was charred, and a small hole +revealed the path the electric current had taken. As they looked in +awestruck silence, a loud wailing burst forth from behind the curtain. +The ill-omened news of the destruction of the _Sepher Torah_ had +reached the women, and their Oriental natures found relief in profuse +lamentation. "Smell! smell!" cried Moshé Grinwitz, sniffing the +sulphurous air with open delight. + +"Woe! woe!" wailed the women. "Woe has befallen us!" + +"Be silent, all!" thundered the Maggid, suddenly recovering himself. +"Be silent, women! Listen to my words. This is the vengeance of Heaven +for the wickedness ye have committed in England. Since ye left your +native country ye have forgotten your Judaism. There are men in this +synagogue that have shaved the corners of their beard; there are women +who have not separated the Sabbath dough. Hear ye! To-morrow shall be +a fast day for you all. And you, Moshé Grinwitz, _bench gomel_--thank +the Holy One, blessed be He, for saving your life." + +"Not I," said Moshé Grinwitz. "You talk nonsense. If the Holy One, +blessed be He, saved my life, it was He that threatened it. My life +was in no danger if He hadn't interfered." + +To hear blasphemies like this from the hitherto respectable and devout +Moshé Grinwitz overwhelmed his hearers. But only for a moment. From a +hundred throats there rose the angry cry, "Epikouros! Epikouros!" And +mingled with this accusation of graceless scepticism there swelled a +gathering tumult of "His is the sin! Cast him out! He is the Jonah! He +is the sinner!" The congregants had all risen long ago and menacing +faces glared behind menacing faces. Some of more heady temperament +were starting from their places. "Moshé Grinwitz," cried the great +Rav, his voice dominating the din, "are you mad?" + +"Now for the first time am I sane," replied the man, his brow dark +with defiance, his tall but usually stooping frame rigid, his narrow +chest dilated, his head thrown back so that the somewhat rusty high +hat he wore sloped backward half off his skull. It was always a +strange, arrestive face, was Moshé Grinwitz's, with its sallow skin, +its melancholy dark eyes, its aquiline nose, its hanging side-curls, +and its full, fleshy mouth embowered in a forest of black beard and +mustache; and now there was an uncanny light about it which made it +almost weird. "Now I see that the Socialists and Atheists are right, +and that we trouble ourselves and tear out our very gall to read a +_Torah_ which the Overseer himself, if there is one, scornfully +shrivels up and casts beneath our feet. Know ye what, brethren? Let us +all go to the Socialist Club and smoke our cigarettes. Otherwise are +_you_ mad!" As he uttered these impious words, another flash of flame +lit up the crowded dusk with unearthly light; the building seemed to +rock and crash; the fingers of the storm beat heavily upon the +windows. From the women's compartment came low wails of fear: "Lord, +have mercy! Forgive us for our sins! It is the end of the world!" But +from the men's benches there arose an incoherent cry like the growl of +a tiger, and from all sides excited figures precipitated themselves +upon the blasphemer. But Moshé Grinwitz laughed a wild, maniacal +laugh, and whirled the sacred Scroll round and dashed the first comers +against one another. But a muscular Lithuanian seized the extremity of +the Scroll, and others hung on, and between them they wrested it from +his grasp. Still he fought furiously, as if endowed with sinews of +steel, and his irritated opponents, their faces bleeding and swollen, +closed round him, forgetting that their object was but to expel him, +and bent on doing him a mischief. Another moment and it would have +fared ill with the man, when a voice, whose tones startled all but +Moshé Grinwitz, though they were spoken close to his ear, hissed in +Yiddish: "Well, if this is the way the members of the Congregation of +Love and Mercy spend their Sabbath, methinks they had done as well to +smoke cigarettes at the Socialist Club. What say ye, brethren?" These +words, pregnant and deserved enough in themselves, were underlined by +an accent of indescribable mockery, not bitter, but as gloating over +the enjoyment of their folly. Involuntarily all turned their eyes to +the speaker. + +Who was he? Where did he spring from, this black-coated, fur-capped, +red-haired hunchback with the gigantic marble brow, the cold, keen, +steely eyes that drew and enthralled the gazer, the handsome +clean-shaven lips contorted with a sneer? None remembered seeing him +enter--none had seen him sitting at their side, or near them. He was +not of their congregation, nor of their brotherhood, nor of any of +their crafts. Yet as they looked at him the exclamations died away on +their lips, their menacing hands fell to their sides, and a wave of +vague, uneasy remembrance passed over all the men in the synagogue. +There was not one that did not seem to know him; there was not one who +could have told who he was, or when or where he had seen him before. +Even the great Rav Rotchinsky, who had set foot on English soil but a +fortnight ago, felt a stir of shadowy recollection within him; and his +corrugated brow wrinkled itself still more in the search after +definiteness. A deep and sudden silence possessed the synagogue; the +very sobs of the unseeing women were checked. Only the sough of the +storm, the ceaseless plash of the torrent, went on as before. Without, +the busy life of London pulsed, unchecked by the tempest; within, the +little synagogue was given over to mystery and nameless awe. + +The sneering hunchback took the Holy Scroll from the nerveless hands +of the Lithuanian, and waved it as in derision. "Blasted! harmless!" +he cried. "The great Name itself mocked by the elements! So this is +what ye toil and sweat for--to store up gold that His words may be +inscribed finely on choice parchment; and then this is how He laughs +at your toil and your self-sacrifice. Listen to Him no more; give not +up the seventh day to idleness when your Lord worketh His lightnings +thereon. Blind yourselves no longer over old-fashioned pages, dusty +and dreary. Rise up against Him and His law, for He is moved with +mirth at your mummeries. He and His angels laugh at you--Heaven is +merry with your folly. What hath He done for His chosen people for +their centuries of anguish and martyrdom? It is for His plaything that +He hath _chosen_ you. He hath given you over into the hand of the +spoiler; ye are a byword among nations; the followers of the +victorious Christ spit in your faces. Here in England your lot is +least hard; but even here ye eat your scanty bread with sorrow and +travail. Sleep may rarely visit your eyes; your homes are noisome +styes; your children perish around you; ye go down in sorrow to the +grave. Rouse yourselves, and be free men. Waste your lives neither for +God nor man. Or, if you will worship, worship the Christ, whose +ministers will pour gold upon you. Eat, drink, and be merry, for +to-morrow ye die." + +A charmed silence still hung over his auditors. Their resentment, +their horror, was dead; a waft of fiery air seemed to blow over their +souls, an intoxicating flush of evil thoughts held riot in their +hearts. They felt their whole spirit move under the sway of the daring +speaker, who now seemed to them merely to put into words thoughts long +suppressed in their own hearts, but now rising into active +consciousness. Yes, they had been fools: they would free themselves, +and quaff the wine of life before the Angel of Death, Azrael, spilled +the goblet. Moshé Grinwitz's melancholy eyes blazed with sympathetic +ardour. + +"Hush, miserable blasphemer!" faltered the great Rav Rotchinsky, who +alone could find his tongue. "The guardian of Israel neither +slumbereth nor sleepeth." The hunchback wheeled round and cast a +chilling glance at the venerable man. Then, smiling, "The maidens of +England are beautiful," he said. "They are even fairer than the women +of Brody." + +The great Rav turned pale, but his eyes shone. He struck out feebly +with his arms, as though beating back some tempting vision. + +"You and I have spoken together before, Rabbi," said the hunchback. +"We shall speak again--about women, wine, and other things. Your beard +is long and white, but many days of sunshine are still before you, and +the darkness of the grave is afar." + +The rabbi tried to mutter a prayer, but his lips only beat tremulously +together. + +"Profane mocker," he muttered at length, "go to thy work and thy wine +and thy pleasure, if thou wouldst desecrate the sacred Sabbath-day; +but tempt not others to sin with thee. Begone; and may the Holy One, +blessed be He, blast thee with His lightnings." + +"The Holy One blasteth only that which is holy," grimly rejoined the +dwarfish stranger, exhibiting the Scroll, while a low sound of +applause went up from the audience. "Said I not, ye were a sport and a +mockery unto Him? Ye assemble in your multitude for prayer, and the +vapour of your piety but prepares the air for the passage of His +arrows. Ye adorn His Scroll with bells and chains, and the gilded +metal but draws His lightnings." + +He looked around the room and a cat-like gleam of triumph stole into +his wonderful eyes as he noted the effect of his words. He paused, and +again for a moment the tense, awful silence reigned, emphasized by the +loud but decreasing patter of the rain. This time it was broken in a +strange, unexpected fashion. + +"_Yisgadal, veyiskadash shemé rabbo_," rang out a clear, childish +voice from the rear of the synagogue. A little orphan child, who had +come to repeat the _Kaddish_, the Hebrew mourners' unquestioning +acknowledgment of the Supreme Goodness, had fallen into a sleep, +overcome by the heat, and had slept all through the storm. Awakening +now amid a universal silence, the poor little fellow instinctively +felt that the congregation was waiting for him to pronounce the +prayer. Alone of the male worshippers he had neither seen the +blaspheming hunchback nor listened to his words. + +The hunchback's handsome face was distorted with a scowl; he stamped +his broad splay-foot, but hearing no verbal interruption, the child, +its eyes piously closed, continued its prayer-- + +"_In the world which He hath created...._" + +"The rain has ceased, brethren," huskily whispered the hunchback, for +his words seemed to stick in his throat. "Come outside and I will tell +you how to enjoy this world, for world-to-come there is none." Not a +figure stirred. The child's treble went unfalteringly on. The stranger +hurried toward the door. Arrived there, he looked back. Moshé +Grinwitz alone followed him. He hurled the Scroll at the child's head, +but the lad just then took the three backward steps which accompany +the conclusion of the prayer. The Scroll dashed itself against the +wall; the stranger was gone and with him Moshé Grinwitz. A great wave +of trembling passed through the length and breadth of the synagogue; +the men drew long breaths, as if some heavy and sulphurous vapour had +been dissipated from the atmosphere; the child lifted up with +difficulty the battered Scroll, kissed it and handed it to his +neighbour, who deposited it reverently in the Ark; a dazzling burst of +sunshine flooded the room from above, and transmuted the floating dust +into the golden shafts of some celestial structure; the Cantor and the +congregation continued the words of the service at the point +interrupted, as though all the strange episode had been a dream. They +did not speak or wonder among themselves at it; nor did the rabbi +allude to it in the marvellous exhortation that succeeded the service, +save at its close, when he reminded them that on the morrow they must +observe a solemn fast. But ever afterward they shunned Moshé Grinwitz +as a leper; for the sight of him recalled his companion in blasphemy, +the atheist and socialist propagandist, who had insidiously crept into +their midst, after perverting and crazing their fellow as a +preliminary; and the thought of the strange hunchback set their blood +tingling and their brain surging with wild fancies and audacious +thoughts. The tidings of their misfortune induced a few benevolent men +to join in purchasing a new Scroll of the Law for them, and before the +Feast of Consecration of this precious possession was well over, the +once vivid images of that stormy and disgraceful scene were as shadows +in the minds of men not unaccustomed to heated synagogal discussions, +and not altogether strangers to synagogal affrays. + + "_She will do him good and not evil all the days of her + life._"--Prov. xxxi. 12. + +As Moshé Grinwitz followed his new-found friend down the narrow +windings that led to his own home, his whole being surrendered itself +to the new delicious freedom. The burst of sunshine that greeted him +almost as soon as he crossed the threshold of the synagogue seemed to +him to typify the new life that was to be his. He drew up his gaunt +form to his full height, stiffened his curved shoulders, bent by much +stooping over his machine, and adjusted his high hat firmly on his +head. It was not a restful, placid feeling that now possessed him; +rather a busy ferment of ideas, a stirring of nerve currents, an +accumulation of energy striving to discharge itself, a mercurial +flowing of the blood. The weight of old life-long conceptions, nay, +the burden of old learning, of which his store had been vast, was cast +off. He did not know what he should do with the new life that tingled +in his veins; he only felt alive in every pore. + +"Ha! brother!" he shouted to the hunchback, who was hurrying on +before. "These fools in the synagogue would do better to come out and +enjoy the fine weather." + +"They breathe the musty air to offer it up as a sweet incense," +responded the dwarf, slackening his steps to allow his companion to +come up with him. + +Their short walk was diversified by quite a number of incidents. A +driver lashed his horse so savagely that the animal bolted; two +children walking hand in hand suddenly began to fight; a +foreign-looking, richly dressed gentleman, half-drunk, staggered +along. Moshé felt it a shame that one wealthy man should wear a heavy +gold chain, which would support a poor family for a month; but ere his +own temptation had gathered to a head, the poor gentleman was felled +by a sudden blow, and a respectably clad figure vanished down an alley +with the coveted spoil. Moshé felt glad, and made no attempt to assist +the victim, and his attention was immediately attracted by some boys, +who commenced to tie a cracker to a cat's tail. Occupied by all these +observations, Moshé suddenly noted with a start that they had reached +the house in which he lived. His companion had already entered the +passage, for the door was always ajar, and Moshé had the impression +that it was very kind of his new friend to accept his invitation to +visit him. He felt very pleased, and followed him into the passage, +but no sooner had he done so than an impalpable cloud of distrust +seemed to settle upon him. The house was a tall, old-fashioned and +grimy structure, which had been fine, and even stately, a century +before, but which now sheltered a dozen families, mainly Jewish. Moshé +Grinwitz's one room was situated at the very top, its walls forming +part of the roof. Every flight of stairs Moshé went up, his spirit +grew darker and darker, as if absorbing the darkness that hung around +the cobwebbed, massive balustrades, upon which no direct ray of +sunlight ever fell; and by the time he had reached the dusky landing +outside his own door the vague uneasiness had changed into a horrible +definite conception; a memory had come back upon him which set his +heart thumping guiltily and anxiously in his bosom. His wife! His +pure, virtuous, God-fearing wife! How was he to make her understand? +But immediately a thought came, by which the burden of shame and +anxiety was half lifted. His wife was not at home; she would still be +in the Synagogue of Love and Mercy, where, mercifully blinded by the +curtain, she, perhaps, was still ignorant of the part he had played. +He turned suddenly to his companion, and caught the vanishing traces +of an ugly scowl wrinkling the high white forehead under the fur cap. +The hunchback's hair burnt like fire on the background of the gloom; +his eyes flashed lightning. + +"Probably my wife is in the synagogue," said Moshé. "If so, she has +the key, and we can't get in." + +"The key matters little," hissed the hunchback. "But you must first +tear down this thing." + +Moshé's eyes followed in wonder the direction of his companion's long, +white forefinger, and rested on the _Mezuzah_, where, in a tin case, +the holy verses and the Name hung upon the door-post. + +"Tear it down?" repeated Moshé. + +"Tear it down!" replied the hunchback. "Never will I enter a home +where this superstitious gew-gaw is allowed to decorate the door." + +Moshé hesitated; the thought of what his wife would say, again welled +up strongly within him; all his new impious daring seemed to be +melting away. But a mocking glance from the cruel eyes thrilled +through him. He put his hand on the _Mezuzah_, then the unbroken habit +of years asserted its sway, and he removed the finger which had lain +on the Name and kissed it. Instantly another semi-transformation of +his thoughts took place; he longed to take the hunchback by the +throat. But it was an impotent longing, for when a low hiss of intense +scorn and wrath was breathed from the clenched lips of his companion, +he made a violent tug at the firmly fastened _Mezuzah_. It was +half-loosed from the woodwork when, from behind the door, there issued +in clear, womanly tones the solemn Hebrew words:-- + +"_Blessed is the man that walketh not in the council of the ungodly, +nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the +scornful._" + +It was Rebecca Grinwitz commencing the Book of Psalms, which she read +through every Sabbath afternoon. + +A violent shudder agitated Moshé Grinwitz's frame; he paused with his +hand on the _Mezuzah_, struggled with himself awhile, then kissed his +finger again, and, turning to defy the scorn of his companion, saw +that he had slipped noiselessly downstairs. A sob of intense relief +burst from Moshé's lips. + +"Rivkoly, Rivkoly!" he cried hysterically, beating at the door; and in +another moment he was folded in the quiet haven of his wife's arms. + +"Who told thee it was I?" said Rebecca, after a moment of delicious +happiness for both. "I told them not to alarm thee, nor to spoil thy +enjoyment of the sermon, because I knew thou wouldst be uneasy and be +wanting to leave the synagogue if thou knewest I had fainted." + +"No one told me thou hadst fainted!" Moshé exclaimed, instantly +forgetting his own perturbation. + +"And yet thou didst guess it!" said Rebecca, a happy little smile +dimpling her pale cheek, "and came away after me." Then, her face +clouding, "The _Satan Mekatrig_ has tempted us both away from +synagogue," she said, "and even when I commence to say _Tehillim_ +(Psalms) at home, he interrupts me by sending me my darling husband." + +Moshé kissed her in acknowledgment of the complimentary termination of +a sentence begun with unquestionable gloom. "But what made my Rivkoly +faint?" he asked, glad, on reflection, that his wife's misconception +obviated the necessity of explanations. "They ought to have opened the +window at the back of the women's room." + +Rebecca shuddered. "God forbid!" she cried. "It wasn't the heat--it +was _that_." Her eyes stared a moment at some unseen vision. + +"What?" cried Moshé, catching the contagion of horror. + +"He would have come in," she said. + +"Who would have come in?" he gasped. + +"The _Satan Mekatrig_," replied his wife. "He was outside, and he +glared at me as if I prevented his coming in." + +A nervous silence followed. Moshé's heart beat painfully. Then he +laughed with ghastly merriment. "Thou didst fall asleep from the +heat," he said, "and hadst an evil dream." + +"No, no," protested his wife earnestly. "As sure as I stand here, no! +I was looking into my _Chumosh_ (Pentateuch), following the reading of +the _Torah_, and all at once I felt something plucking my eyes off my +book and turning my head to look through the window immediately behind +me. I wondered what _Satan Mekatrig_ was distracting my thoughts from +the service. For a long time I resisted, but when the reading ceased +for a moment the temptation overcame me and I turned and saw him." + +"How looked he?" Moshé asked in a whisper that strove in vain not to +be one. + +"Do not ask me," Rebecca replied, with another shudder. "A little +crooked demon with red hair, and a fur cap, and a white forehead, and +baleful eyes, and a cock's talons for toes." + +Again Moshé laughed, a strange, hollow laugh. "Little fool!" he said, +"I know the man. He is only a brother-Jew--a poor cutter or +cigar-maker who laughs at _Yiddishkeit_ (Judaism), because he has no +wife like mine to show him the heavenly light. Why, didst thou not see +him afterward? But no, thou must have been gone by the time he came +inside." + +"What I saw was no man," returned Rebecca, looking at him sternly. "No +earthly being could have stopped my heart with his glances. It was the +_Satan Mekatrig_ himself, who goeth to and fro on the earth, and +walketh up and down in it. I must have been having wicked thoughts +indeed this Sabbath, thinking of my new dress, for my Sabbath Angel +to have deserted me, and to let the Disturber and the Tempter assail +me unchecked." The poor, conscience-stricken woman burst into tears. + +"My Rivkoly have wicked thoughts!" said Moshé incredulously, as he +smoothed her cheek. "If my Rivkoly puts on a new dress in honour of +the Sabbath, is not the dear God pleased? Why, where _is_ thy new +dress?" + +"I have changed it for an old one," she sobbed. "I do not want to see +the demon again." + +"The _Satan Mekatrig_ has no real existence, I tell thee," said Moshé, +irritated. "He only means our own inward thoughts, that distract us in +the performance of the precepts; our own inward temptations to go +astray after our eyes and after our hearts." + +"Moshé!" Rebecca exclaimed in a shocked tone, "have I married an +Epikouros after all? My father, the Rav, peace be unto him, always +said thou hadst the makings of one--that thou didst ask too many +questions." + +"Well, whether there is a _Satan_ or not," retorted her husband, "thou +couldst not have seen him; for the person thou describest is the man I +tell thee of." + +"And thou keepest company with such a man," she answered; "a man who +scoffs at _Yiddishkeit_! May the Holy One, blessed be He, forgive +thee! Now I know why we have no children, no son to say _Kaddish_ +after us." And Rebecca wept bitterly--for the children she did not +possess. + +Their common cause of grief coming thus unexpectedly into their +consciousness softened them toward one another and dispelled the +gathering irritation. Both had a melancholy vision of themselves +stretched out stiff and stark in their shrouds, with no filial +_Kaddish_ breaking in upon and gladdening their ears. O if their souls +should be doomed to Purgatory, with no son's prayers to release them! +Very soon they were sitting hand in hand, reading together the +interrupted Psalms. + +And a deep peace fell upon Moshé Grinwitz. So the immortal allegorist, +John Bunyan, must have felt when the mad longing to utter blasphemies +and obscenities from the pulpit was stifled; and when he felt his soul +once more in harmony with the Spirit of Good. So feel all men who have +wrestled with a Being in the darkness and prevailed. + +They were a curious contrast--the tall, sallow, stooping, +black-bearded man, and the small, keen-eyed, plump, pleasant-looking, +if not pretty woman, in her dark wig and striped cotton dress, and as +they sat, steadily going through the whole collection of Psalms to a +strange, melancholy tune, fraught with a haunting and indescribable +pathos, the shadows of twilight gathered unnoticed about the attic, +which was their all in all of home. The iron bed, the wooden chairs, +the gilt-framed _Mizrach_ began to lose their outlines in the +dimness. The Psalms were finished at last, and then the husband and +wife sat, still hand in hand, talking of their plans for the coming +week. For once neither spoke of going to evening service at the +Synagogue of Love and Mercy, and when a silver ray of moonlight lay +broad across the counterpane, and Rebecca Grinwitz, peering into the +quiet sky that overhung the turbid alley, announced that three stars +were visible, the devout couple turned their faces to the east and +sang the hymns that usher out the Sabbath. + +And when the evening prayer was over Rebecca produced from the +cupboard the plainly cut goblet of raisin wine, and the metal +wine-cup, the green twisted waxlight, and the spice-box, wherewith to +perform the beautiful symbolical ceremony of the _Havdalah_, welcoming +in the days of work, the six long days of dreary drudgery, with +cheerful resignation to the will of the Maker of all things--of the +Sabbath and the Day of Work, the Light and the Shadow, the Good and +the Evil, blent into one divine harmony by His inscrutable Wisdom and +Love. + +Moshé filled the cup with raisin wine, and, holding it with his right +hand, chanted a short majestic Hebrew poem, whereof the burden was:-- + +"Lo! God is my salvation; I will trust, and I will not be afraid. Be +with us light and joy, gladness and honour." Then blessing the King of +the Universe, who had created the fruit of the Vine, he placed the +cup on the table and took up the spices, uttering a blessing over them +as he did so. Then having smelled the spice-box, he passed it on to +his wife and spread out his hands toward the light of the spiral wax +taper, reciting solemnly: "Blessed be Thou, O Lord, our God, King of +the Universe, who createst the Light of the Fire." And then looking +down at the Shade made by his bent fingers, he took up the wine-cup +again, and chanted, with especial fervour, and with a renewed sense of +the sanctities and sweet tranquillities of religion: "Blessed be Thou, +O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who makest a distinction between +the Holy and the non-Holy, between Light and Darkness." + + "_As for that night, let darkness seize upon it._"--Job iii. 6. + +It was _Kol Nidré_ night, the commencement of the great White Fast, +the Day of Atonement. Throughout the Jewish quarter there was an air +of subdued excitement. The synagogues had just emptied themselves and +everywhere men and women, yet under the solemn shadow of passionate +prayer, were meeting and exchanging the wish that they might weather +the fast safely. The night was dark and starless, as if Nature partook +of the universal mournfulness. + +Solitary, though amidst a crowd, a slight, painfully thin woman +shuffled wearily along, her feet clad in the slippers which befitted +the occasion, her head bent, her worn cheek furrowed with +still-falling tears. They were not the last dribblets of an exhausted +emotion, not the meaningless, watery expression of over-excited +sensibility. They were real, salt, bitter tears born of an intense +sorrow. The long, harassing service, with its untiring demands upon +the most exalted and the most poignant emotions, would have been a +blessing if it had dulled her capacity for anguish. But it had not. +Poor Rebecca Grinwitz was still thinking of her husband. + +It was of him she thought, even when the ministers, in their long +white cerements, were pouring forth their souls in passionate +vocalization, now rising to a wail, now breaking to a sob, now sinking +to a dread whisper; it was of him she thought when the weeping +worshippers, covered from head to foot in their praying-shawls, rocked +to and fro in a frenzy of grief, and battered the gates of Heaven with +fiery lyrics; it was of him she thought when she beat her breast with +her clenched fist as she made the confession of sin and clamoured for +forgiveness. Sins enough she knew she had--but _his_ sin! Ah! God, +_his_ sin! + +For Moshé had gone from bad to worse. He refused to reënter the +synagogue where he had been so roughly handled. His speech became more +and more profane. He said no more prayers; wore no more phylacteries. +Her peaceful home-life wrecked, her reliance on her husband gone, the +poor wife clung to him, still hoping on. At times she did not believe +him sane. Gradually rumours of his mad behaviour on the Sabbath on +which she had fainted reached her ears, and remembering that his +strangeness had begun from the Sunday morning following that delicious +afternoon of common Psalm-saying, she was often inclined to put it all +down to mental aberration. But then his talk--so clever, if so +blasphemous; bristling with little pointed epigrams and maxims such as +she had never before heard from him or any one else. He was full of +new ideas, too, on politics and the social system and other +unpractical topics, picturing endless potentialities of wealth and +happiness for the labourer. Meantime his wages had fallen by a third, +owing to the loss of his former place, his master having been the +president of the Congregation of Love and Mercy. What wonder, +therefore, if Moshé Grinwitz intruded upon all his wife's +thoughts--devotional or worldly? In a very real sense he had become +her _Satan Mekatrig_. + +Up till to-night she had gone on hoping. For when the great White Fast +comes round, a mighty wave as of some subtle magnetism passes through +the world of Jews. Men and women who have not obeyed one precept of +Judaism for a whole year suddenly awake to a remembrance of the faith +in which they were born, and hasten to fast and pray, and abase +themselves before the Throne of Mercy. The long-drawn, tremulous, +stirring notes of the trumpet that ushers in the New Year, seem to +rally and gather together the dispersed of Israel from every region +of the underworld of unfaith and to mass them beneath the cope of +heaven. And to-night surely the newly rooted nightshade of doubt would +wither away in her husband's bosom. Surely this one link still held +him to the religion of his fathers; and this one link would redeem him +and yet save his soul from the everlasting tortures of the damned. But +this last hope had been doomed to disappointment. Utterly unmoved by +all the olden sanctities of the Days of Judgment that initiate the New +Year, the miserable man showed no signs of remorse when the more awful +terrors of the Day of Atonement drew near--the last day of grace for +the sinner, the day on which the Divine Sentence is sealed +irrevocably. And so the wretched woman had gone to the synagogue +alone. + +Reaching home, she toiled up the black staircase and turned the handle +of the door. As she threw open the door she uttered a cry. She saw +nothing before her but a gigantic shadow, flickering grotesquely on +the sloping walls and the slip of ceiling. It must be her own shadow, +for other living occupant of the room she could see none. Where was +her husband? Whither had he gone? Why had he recklessly left the door +unlocked? + +She looked toward the table gleaming weirdly with its white +tablecloth; the tall wax _Yom Kippur_ Candle, specially lit on the eve +of the solemn fast and intended to burn far on into the next day, had +all but guttered away, and the flame was quivering unsteadily under +the influence of a draught coming from the carelessly opened window. +Rebecca shivered from head to foot; a dread presentiment of evil shook +her soul. For years the Candle had burnt steadily, and her life also +had been steady and undisturbed. Alas! it needed not the omen of the +_Yom Kippur_ Candle to presage woe. + +"May the dear God have mercy on me!" she exclaimed, bursting into +fresh tears. Hardly had she uttered the words when a monstrous black +cat, with baleful green eyes, dashed from under the table, sprang upon +the window-sill, and disappeared into the darkness, uttering a +melancholy howl. Almost frantic with terror, the poor woman dragged +herself to the window and closed it with a bang, but ere the sash had +touched the sill, something narrow and white had flashed from the room +through the gap, and the reverberations made in the silent garret by +the shock of the violently closed window were prolonged in mocking +laughter. + +"Well thrown, Rav Moshé!" said a grating voice. "Now that you have at +last conquered your reverence for a bit of tin and a morsel of +parchment, I will honour your mansion with my presence." + +Instantly Rebecca felt a wild longing to join in the merriment and to +laugh away her fears; but, muttering a potent talismanic verse, she +turned and faced her husband and his guest. Instinct had not deceived +her--the new-comer was the hunchback of that fatal Sabbath. This time +she did not faint. + +"A strange hour and occasion to bring a visitor, Moshé," she said +sternly, her face growing even more rigid and white as she caught the +nicotian and alcoholic reek of the two men's breaths. + +"Your good _Frau_ is not over-polite," said the visitor. "But it's +_Yom Kippur_, and so I suppose she feels she must tell the truth." + +"I brought him, Rivkoly, to convince thee what a fool thou wast to +assert that thou hadst seen--but _I_ mustn't be impolite," he broke +off, with a coarse laugh. "There's no call for _me_ to tell the truth +because it's _Yom Kippur_. Down at the Club we celebrated the occasion +by something better than truth--a jolly spread! And our good friend +here actually stood a bottle of champagne! Champagne, Rivkoly! Think +of it! Real, live champagne, like that which fizzes and sparkles on +the table of the Lord Mayor. Oh, he's a jolly good fellow! and so said +all of us, too. And yet thou sayest he isn't a fellow at all." + +A drunken leer overspread his sallow face, and was rendered more +ghastly by the flame leaping up from the expiring candle. + +"_Roshah_, sinner!" thundered the woman. Then looking straight into +the cruel eyes of the hunchback, her wan face shining with the stress +of a great emotion, her meagre form convulsed with fury, "Avaunt, +_Satan Mekatrig_!" she screamed. "Get thee down from my house--get +thee down. In God's name, get thee down--to hell." + +Even the brazen-faced hunchback trembled before her passion; but he +grasped his friend's hot hand in his long, nervous fingers, and seemed +to draw courage from the contact. + +"If I go, I take your husband!" he hissed, his great eyes blazing in +turn. "He will leave me no more. Send me away, if you will." + +"Yes, thou must not send my friend away like this," hiccoughed Moshé +Grinwitz. "Come, make him welcome, like the good wife thou wast wont +to be." + +Rebecca uttered a terrible cry, and, cowering down on the ground, +rocked herself to and fro. + +The drunkard appeared moved. "Get up, Rivkoly," he said, with a +tremour in his tones. "To see thee one would think thou wast sitting +_Shivah_ over my corpse." He put out his hand as if to raise her up. + +"Back!" she screamed, writhing from his grasp. "Touch me not; no +longer am I wife of thine." + +"Hear you that, man?" said the hunchback eagerly. "You are free. I am +here as a witness. Think of it; you are free." + +"Yes, I am free," repeated Moshé, with a horrible, joyous exultation +on his sickly visage. The gigantic shadow of himself that bent over +him, cast by the dying flame of the _Yom Kippur_ Candle, seemed to +dance in grim triumph, his long side-curls dangling in the spectral +image like barbaric ornaments in the ears of a savage, while the +unshapely, fantastic shadow of the hunchback seemed to nod its head in +applause. Then, as the flame leaped up in an irregular jet, the +distorted shadow of the Tempter intertwined itself in a ghastly +embrace with her own. With frozen blood and stifled breath the +tortured woman turned away, and, as her eyes fell upon the +many-cracked looking-glass which adorned the mantelpiece, she saw, or +her overwrought fancy seemed to see--her husband's dead face, wreathed +with a slavering serpent in the place of the phylacteries he had +ceased to wear, and surrounded by endless perspectives of mocking +marble-browed visages, with fiery snakes for hair and live coals for +eyes. + +She felt her senses slipping away from her grasp, but she struggled +wildly against the heavy vapour that seemed to choke her. "Moshé!" she +shrieked, in mad, involuntary appeal for help, as she clutched the +mantel and closed her eyes to shut out the hideous vision. + +"I am no longer thy husband," tauntingly replied the man. "I may not +touch thee." + +"Hear you that, woman?" came the sardonic voice of the hunchback. "You +are free. I am here as a witness." + +"I am here as a witness," a thousand mocking voices seemed to hiss in +echoed sibilance. + +A terrible silence followed. At last she turned her white shrunken +face, which the contrast of the jet-black wig rendered weird and +death-like, toward the man who had been her husband, and looked long +and slowly, yearningly yet reproachfully, into his bloodshot eyes. + +Again a great wave of agitation shook the man from head to foot. + +"Don't look at me like that, Rivkoly," he almost screamed. "I won't +have it. I won't see thee. Curse that candle! Why does it flicker on +eternally and not blot thee from my sight?" He puffed violently at the +tenacious flame and a pall fell over the room. But the next instant +the light leaped up higher than ever. + +"Moshé!" Rebecca shrieked in wild dismay. "Dost thou forget it is _Kol +Nidré_ night? How canst thou dare to blow out a light? Besides, it is +the _Yom Kippur_ Candle--it is our life and happiness for the New +Year. If you blow it out, I swear, by my soul and the great Name, that +you shall never look upon my face again." + +"It is because I do not wish to see thy face that I will blow it out," +he replied, laughing hysterically. + +"No, no!" she pleaded. "I will go away rather. It is nearly dead of +itself; let it die." + +"No! It takes too long dying; 'tis like thy father, the Rav, who had +the corpse-watchers so long in attendance that one died himself," said +Moshé Grinwitz with horrible laughter. "I will kill it!" And bending +down low over the broad socket of the candlestick, so that his head +loomed gigantic on the ceiling, he silenced forever the restless +tongue of fire. + +Immediately a thick blackness, as of the grave, settled upon the +chamber. Hollow echoes of the blasphemer's laughter rang and resounded +on every side. Myriads of dreadful faces shaped themselves out of the +gloom, and mowed and gibbered at the woman. At the window, the green, +baleful eyes of the black cat glared with phosphorescent light. A +wreath of fiery serpents twisted themselves in fiendish contortions, +shedding lurid radiance upon the cruel marble brow they garlanded. An +unspeakable Eeriness, an unnameable Unholiness, floated with +far-sweeping, rustling pinions through the Darkness. + +With stifling throat that strove in vain to shriek, the woman dashed +out through the well-known door, fled wildly down the stairs, pursued +at every step by the sardonic merriment, met at every corner by the +gibbering shapes--fled on, dashing through the heavy, ever-open street +door into the fresher air of the night--on, instinctively on, through +the almost deserted streets and alleys, where only the vile gin-houses +gleamed with life--on, without pause or rest, till she fell exhausted +upon the dusty door-step of the Synagogue of Love and Mercy. + + "_All Israel have a portion in the world to come._"--Ethics of + the Fathers. + +The aged keeper of the synagogue rushed out at the noise. + +"Save me! For God's sake, save me, Reb Yitzchok!" cried the fallen +figure. "Save me from the _Satan Mekatrig_! I have no home--no +husband--any more! Take me in!" + +"Take you in?" said Reb Yitzchok pityingly, for he dimly guessed +something of her story. "Where can I take you in? You know my wife and +I are allowed but one tiny room here." + +"Take me in!" repeated the woman. "I will pass the night in the +synagogue. I must pray for my husband's soul, for he has no son to +pray for him. Let me come in! Save me from the _Satan Mekatrig_!" + +"You would certainly meet many a _Satan Mekatrig_ in the streets +during the night," said the old man musingly. "But have you no friends +to go to?" + +"None--none--but God! Let me in that I may go to Him. Give me shelter, +and He will have mercy on you when the great _Tekiah_ sounds to-morrow +night!" + +Without another word Reb Yitzchok went into his room, returned with +the key, and threw open the door of the women's synagogue, revealing a +dazzling flood of light from the numerous candles, big and little, +which had been left burning in their sconces. The low curtain that +served as a partition had been half rolled back by devoted husbands +who had come to inquire after their wives at the end of the service, +and the synagogue looked unusually large and bright, though it was hot +and close, with lingering odours of breaths, and snuff, and tallow, +and smelling-salts. + +With a sob of infinite thankfulness Rebecca dropped upon a wooden +bench. + +"Would you like a blanket?" said the old man. + +"No, no, God bless you!" she replied. "I must watch and weep, not +sleep. For the Scroll of Judgment is written and the Book of Life is +all but closed." + +With a pitying sigh the old man turned and left her alone for the +night in the Synagogue of Love and Mercy. + +For a few moments Rebecca sat, prayerless, her soul full of a strange +peace. Then she found herself counting the chimes as they rolled out +sonorously from a neighbouring steeple: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, +Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, TWELVE! + + * * * * * + +Starting up suddenly when the last stroke ceased to vibrate on the +air, Rebecca Grinwitz found, to her surprise, that a merciful sleep +must have overtaken her eyelids, that hours must have passed since +midnight had struck, and that the great Day of Atonement must have +dawned. Both compartments of the synagogue were full of the restless +stir of a praying multitude. With a sense of something vaguely +strange, she bent her eyes downward on her neighbour's _Machzor_. The +woman immediately pushed the prayer-book more toward Rebecca, with a +wonderful smile of love and tenderness, which seemed to go right +through Rebecca's heart, though she could not clearly remember ever +having seen her neighbour before. Nor, wonderingly stealing a first +glance around, could she help feeling that the entire congregation was +somewhat strange and unfamiliar, though she could not quite think why +or how. The male worshippers, too, why did they all wear the +shroud-like garments, usually confined on this solemn occasion to the +ministers and a few extra-devout personages? And had not some +transformation come over the synagogue? Was it only the haze before +her tear-worn eyes or did dim perspectives of worshippers stretch away +boundlessly on all sides of the clearly seen area, which still +retained the form of the room she knew so well? + +But the curious undercurrent of undefined wonder lasted but a moment. +In another instant she was reconciled to the scene. All was familiar +and expected; once more she was taking part in divine service with no +sorrowful thoughts of her husband coming to distract her, her whole +soul bathing in and absorbing the Peace of God which passeth all +understanding. Then suddenly she felt a stir of recollection coming +over her, and a stream of love warming her heart, and looking up at +her neighbour's face she saw with joyous content that it was that of +her mother. + +The service went on, mother and daughter following it in the book they +had in common. After several hours, during which the huge, +far-spreading congregation alternated with the Cantor in intoning the +beautiful poems of the liturgy of the day, the white curtain with its +mystic cabalistic insignia was rolled back from the Ark of the +Covenant and two Scrolls were withdrawn therefrom. Rebecca noted with +joy that the Ark was filled with Scrolls big and little, in rich +mantles, and that those taken out were swathed in satin beautifully +embroidered, and that the ornaments and the musically tinkling bells +were of pure gold. + +Then some of the worshippers were called up in turn to the _Al Memor_ +to be present at the reading of a section of the Law. They were all +well known to Rebecca. First came Moses ben Amram. He walked humbly up +to the _Al Memor_ with bowed head, his long _Talith_ enveloping him +from crown to foot. Rebecca saw his face well, for though it was +covered with a thick veil, it shone luminously through its draping. + +"Bless ye the Lord, who is blessed," said Moses ben Amram, the words +seeming all the sweeter from his lips for the slight stammering with +which they were uttered. + +"Blessed be the Lord, who is blessed to all eternity and beyond," +responded the endless congregation, in a low murmur that seemed to be +taken up and vibrated away and away into the infinite distances for +ever and ever. + +"Blessed be the Lord, who is blessed to all eternity and beyond," +echoed the melodious voice. Then, in words that seemed to roll and +fill the great gulfs of space with a choral music of sacred joy, Moses +continued, "Blessed be Thou, O Lord, our God, the King of the +Universe, who hath chosen us from all peoples, and given unto us His +Law. Blessed art Thou, O Lord, who givest the Law." + +After him came Aaron ben Amram, whose white beard reached to his +knees. Abraham ben Terah, Isaac ben Abraham, and Jacob ben Isaac--all +venerable figures, with faces which Rebecca felt were radiant with +infinite tenderness and compassion for such poor helpless children as +herself--were also called up, and after the Patriarchs, Elijah the +Prophet. Lastly came a white-haired, stooping figure, whose gait and +whose every gesture told Rebecca that it was her father. How glad she +felt to see him thus honoured! As she listened to his quavering tones +the dusty tombstones of dead years seemed rolled away, and all their +simple joys and griefs to live again, not quite as of yore, but +transfigured by some solemn pathos. + +When the reading of the Law was at an end, David ben Jesse, a +royal-looking graybeard, held up the Scroll to the four corners of +space, and it was rolled up by his son Solomon, the Preacher; the +carrying of it to the Ark being given to Rabbi Akiba, whose features +wore a strange, ecstatic look, as though ennobled by suffering. The +vast multitude rose with a great rustling, the sound whereof reached +afar, and sang a hymn of rejoicing, so that the whole universe was +filled with melody. Rebecca alone could not sing. For the first time +she missed her husband, Moshé. Why was he not here, like all the other +friends of her life, whose beloved faces surrounded her on every side +and made a sweet atmosphere of security for her soul? What was he +doing outside of this mighty assembly? Why was he not there to have +the sacred duty of carrying the Scroll entrusted to him? She felt the +tears pouring down her cheeks. She was ready to sink to the earth with +sudden lassitude. "Mother! dear mother!" she cried, "I feel so faint." + +"You must have some air, my child, my Rivkoly," said the mother, the +dearly remembered voice falling for the first time with ineffable +sweetness on Rebecca's ears. And she put out her hand, and lo! it grew +longer and longer, till it reached up to the skylight, and then +suddenly the whole roof vanished and the free air of heaven blew in +like celestial balm upon Rebecca's hot forehead. Yet she noted with +wonder that the holy candles burnt on steadily, unfluttered by the +refreshing breeze. And then, lo! the starless heavens above her opened +out in indescribable Glory. The Dark budded into ineffable Beauty; a +supernally pure, luminous Splendour, transcendently dazzling, filled +the infinite depths of the Firmament with melodious coruscations of +Infinite Love made visible, and white-winged hosts of radiant Cherubim +sang "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts, the whole earth is full +of His Glory." And all the vast congregation fell upon their faces and +cried "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts, the whole earth is full +of His Glory." And Moses ben Amram arose, and he lifted his hands +toward the Splendour and he cried, "Lord, Lord God, merciful and +gracious, long-suffering and full of kindness and truth. Lo, Thou +sealest the seals before the twilight. Seal Thy People, I pray Thee, +in the Book of Life, though Thou blot me out. Forgive them, and pardon +their transgressions for the sake of the merits of the Patriarchs and +for the sake of the merits of the Martyrs, who have shed their blood +like water and offered their flesh to the flames for the +Sanctification of the Name. Forgive them, and blot out their +transgressions." + +And all the congregation said "Amen." + +Then a surging wave of hope rose within Rebecca's breast, and it +lifted her to her feet and stretched out her arms toward the +Splendour. And she said: "Lord God, forgive Thou my husband, for he is +in the hand of the Tempter. Save him from the power of the Evil One +by Thine outstretched arm and Thy mighty hand. Save him and pardon +him, Lord, in Thine infinite mercy." Then a strange, dread, anxious +silence fell upon the vast spaces of the Firmament, till from the +heart of the Celestial Splendour there fell a Word that floated +through the Universe like the sweet blended strains of all sweet +instruments, a Word that mingled all the harmonies of winds and waters +and mortal and angelic voices into one divine cadence--_Salachti_. + +And with the sweet Word of Forgiveness lingering musically in her +charmed ears, and the sweet assurance at her heart that she, the poor, +miserable tailor's wife, despised and trodden under foot by the rich +and by the heathen around, could lean upon the breast of an Almighty +Father, who had prepared for her immortal glories and raptures amid +all her loved ones in a world where He would wipe the tears from off +all eyes, Rebecca Grinwitz awoke to find the bright morning sunshine +streaming in upon her and the fresh morning air blowing in upon her +fevered brow from the skylight which Reb Yitzchok had just opened. + + "_Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the + fowler._"--Psalm xci. 3. + +A shroud of newly fallen snow enveloped the dead earth, over which the +dull, murky sky looked drearily down. Within his fireless garret, +which was almost empty of furniture, Moshé Grinwitz lay, wasted away +to a shadow. His beard was unkempt, his cheek-bones were almost +fleshless, his feverish eyes large and staring, his side-curls tangled +and untended. There did not seem enough strength left in the frame to +resist a babe; yet, when he coughed, the whole skeleton was agitated +as though with galvanic energy. + +"Will he never come back?" he murmured uneasily. + +"Fear not; so far as lies in my power, I shall be with you always," +replied the voice of the hunchback as he entered the room. "But, alas! +I have little comfort to bring you. One pawnbroker after another +refused to advance anything on my waistcoat, and at last I sold it +right out for a few pence. See; here is some milk. It is warm." + +Moshé tried to clutch the jug, but fell back, helpless. A shade of +anxiety passed over his companion's face. "Have I miscalculated?" he +muttered. He held the jug to the sick man's lips, supporting his head +with the other. Moshé drank, then fell back, and pressed his friend's +hand gratefully. + +"Poor Moshé," said the hunchback. "What a shame I tossed into the +gutter the gold my father left me seven months ago! How could I +foresee you would be struck down with this long sickness?" + +"No, no, don't regret it," quavered Moshé, his white face lighting up. +"We had jolly old times, jolly old times, while the money lasted. Oh, +you've been a good friend to me--a good friend. If I had never known +you, I should have passed away into nothingness, without ever having +known the mad joys of wine and riot. I have had wild, voluptuous +moments of revelry and mirth. No power in heaven or hell can take away +the past. And then the sweet freedom of doing as you will, thinking as +you will, flying with wings unclogged by superstition--to you I owe it +all! And since I have been ill you have watched over me like--like a +woman." + +His words died away in a sob, and then there was silence, except when +his cough sounded strange and hollow in the bare room. Presently he +went on:-- + +"How unjust Rivkoly was to you! She once said"--here the speaker +laughed a little melancholy laugh--"that you were the _Satan Mekatrig_ +in person." + +"Poor afflicted woman!" said his friend, with pitying scorn. "In this +nineteenth century, when among the wise the belief in the gods has +died out, there are yet fools alive who believe in the devil. But she +could only have meant it metaphorically." + +The sick man shook his head. "She said the evil influence--of course, +it seemed evil to her--you wielded over her thoughts, and I suppose +mine, too, was more than human--was supernatural." + +"Oh, I don't say I'm not more strong-minded than most people. Of +course I am, or I should be howling hymns at the present moment. But +why does a soldier catch fire under the eye of his captain? What +magnetism enables one man to bewitch a nation? Why does one friend's +unspoken thought find unuttered echo in another's? Go to Science, +study Mesmerism, Hypnotism, Thought-Transference, and you will learn +all about Me and my influence." + +"Yes, Rivkoly never had any idea of anything outside her prayer-book. +Rivkoly--" + +"Mention not her name to me," interrupted the hunchback harshly. "A +woman who deserts her husband--" + +"She swore to go if I blew out the _Yom Kippur_ light. And I did." + +"A woman who goes out of her wits because her husband gets into his!" +sneered the other. "Doubtless her superstitious fancy conjured up all +sorts of sights in the dark. Ho! ho! ho!" and he laughed a ghastly +laugh. "Happily she will never come back. She's evidently able to get +along without you. Probably she has another husband more to her pious +taste." + +Moshé raised himself convulsively. "Don't say that again!" he +screamed. "_My_ Rivkoly!" Then a violent cough shook him and his white +lips were reddened with blood. + +The cold eyes of the hunchback glittered strangely as he saw the +blood. "At any rate," he said, more gently, "she cannot break the +mighty oath she sware. She will never come back." + +"No, she will never come back," the sick man groaned hopelessly. "But +it was cruel of me to drive her away. Would to G--" + +The hunchback hastily put his hand on the speaker's mouth, and +tenderly wiped away the blood. "When I am better," said Moshé, with +sudden resolution, "I will seek her out: perhaps she is starving." + +"As you will. You know she can always earn her bread and water at the +cap-making. But you are your own master. When you are rid of this +sickness--which will be soon--you shall go and seek her out and bring +her to abide with you." The words rang sardonically through the +chamber. + +"How good you are!" Moshé murmured, as he sank back relieved. + +The hunchback leaned over the bed till his gigantic brow almost +touched the sick man's, till his wonderful eyes lay almost on his. +"And yet you will not let me hasten on your recovery in the way I +proposed to you." + +"No, no," Moshé said, trembling all over. "What matters if I lie here +a week more or less?" + +"Lie here!" hissed his friend. "In a week you will lie rotting." + +A wild cry broke from the blood-bespattered lips! "I am not dying! I +am not dying! You said just now I should be better soon." + +"So you will; so you will. But only if we have money. Our last +farthing, our last means of raising a farthing, is gone. Without +proper food, without a spark of fire, how can you hold out a week in +this bitter weather? No, unless you would pass from the light and the +gladness of life to the gloom and the shadow of the tomb, you must be +instantly baptized." + +"_Shmad_ myself! Never!" said the sick man, the very word conjuring up +an intolerable loathing, deeper than reason; and then another violent +fit of coughing shook him. + +"See how this freezing atmosphere tells on you. You must take +Christian gold, I tell you. Thus only shall I be able to get you +fire--to get you fire," repeated the hunchback with horrible emphasis. +"You call yourself a disbeliever. If so, what matters? Why should you +die for a miserable prejudice? But you are no true infidel. So long as +you shrink from professing any religion under the sun, you still +possess a religion. Your unfaith is but foam-drift on the deep sea of +faith; but lip-babble while your heart is still infected with +superstition. Come, bid me fetch the priest with his crucifix and holy +water. Let us fool him to the top of his bent. Rouse yourself; be a +man and live." + +"No, no, brother! I will be a man and die." + +"Fool!" hissed the hunchback. "It fits not one who has lived for +months by Christian gold to be so nice." + +"You lie!" Moshé gasped. + +"The seven months that you and I have known each other, it is +Christian gold that has warmed you and fed you and rejoiced you, and +that, melted down, has flowed in your veins as wine. Whence, then, +took I the money for our riotings?" + +"From your father, you said." + +"Yes, from my spiritual father," was the grim reply. "No, having that +belief, which _you_ still lack, in the hollowness and mockery of all +save pleasure, I became a Christian. For a time they paid me well, but +as soon as I had been put on the annual report I had served my purpose +and the supplies fell off. I could be converted again in another town +or country, but I dare not leave you. But you are a new man, and +should I drag you into the fold they will reward us both well. Instead +of subsisting on dry bread and milk you will fare on champagne and +turtle-soup once more." + +Moshé sat up and gazed wildly one long second at the Tempter. He +looked at his own fleshless arms, and shuddered. He felt the icy hand +of Death upon him. He knew himself a young man still. Must he go down +into the eternal darkness, and be folded in the freezing clasp of the +King of Terrors, while the warm bosom of Life offered itself to his +embrace? No; give him Life, Life, Life, polluted and stained with +hypocrisy, but still Life, delicious Life. + +The steely eyes of the hunchback watched the contest anxiously. +Suddenly a change came over the wildly working face--it fell back +chill and rigid on the pillow, the eyes closed. The room seemed to +fill with an impalpable, brooding Vapour, as if a thick fog were +falling outside. The watcher caught madly at his friend's wrist and +sought to detect a pulsation. His eyes glowed with horrible exultant +relief. + +"Not yet, not yet, Brother Azrael," he said mockingly, as if +addressing the impalpable Vapour; "Thou who art wholly woven of Eyes, +canst Thou not see that it is not yet time to throw the fatal pellet +into his throat? Back, back!" + +The Vapour thickened. The minutes passed. The hunchback peered +expectant at the corpse-like face on the dingy pillow. At last the +eyes opened, but in them shone a strange, rapt expression. + +"Thank God, Rivkoly!" the dying lips muttered. "I knew thou wouldst +come." + +As he spoke there was a frantic beating at the door. The hunchback's +face was convulsed. + +"Hasten, hasten, Brother Azrael!" he cried. + +The Vapour lightened a little. Moshé Grinwitz seemed to rally. His +face glowed with eagerness. + +"Open the door! open the door!" he cried. "It's Rivkoly--my Rivkoly!" + +The vain battering at the door grew fiercer, but none noted it in the +house. Since the shadow of the hunchback had first fallen within that +thickly crowded human nest, the doves had become hawks, the hawks +vultures. All was discord and bickering. + +"Lie still," said the hunchback; "'tis but your fevered imagination. +Drink." + +He put the jug to the dying man's lips, but it was dashed violently +from his hand and shattered into a hundred pieces. + +"Give me nothing bought with Christian money!" gasped Moshé hoarsely, +his breath rattling painfully in his throat. "Never will I knowingly +gain by the denial of the Unity of God." + +"Then die like a dog!" roared the hunchback. "Hasten, Brother Azrael!" + +The Vapour folded itself thickly about the room. The rickety door was +shaken frantically, as by a great gale. + +"Moshé! Moshé!" shrieked a voice. "Let me in--me--thy Rivkoly! In +God's name, let me in! I bring thee a precious gift. Or art thou dead, +dead, dead? My God, why didst Thou not cause me to know he was ill +before!" + +"Your husband is dying," said the hunchback. "When he is dead, you +shall look upon his face. But he may not look upon your face again. +You have sworn it." + +"Devil!" cried the fierce voice of the woman. "I swore it on _Kol +Nidré_ night, when I had just asked the Almighty to absolve me from +all rash oaths. Let me in, I tell you." + +"I will not have a sacred oath treated thus lightly," said the +hunchback savagely. "I will keep your soul from sin." + +"Cursed be thou to eternity of eternities!" replied the woman. "Pray, +Moshé, pray for thy soul. Pray, for thou art dying." + +"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one," rose the sonorous +Hebrew. + +"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one," wailed the woman. +The very Vapour seemed to cling round and prolong the vibrations of +the sacred words. Only the hunchback was silent. The mocking words +died on his lips, and as the woman, with one last mighty blow, dashed +in through the flying door, he seemed to glide past her and melt into +the darkness of the staircase. + +Rivkoly heeded not his contorted, malignant visage, crowned with its +serpentine wreath of fiery hair; she flew straight through the heavy +Vapour, stooped and kissed the livid mouth, read in a moment the +decree of Death in the eyes, and then put something small and warm +into her husband's fast chilling arms. + +"Take it, Moshé," she cried, "and comfort thy soul in death. 'Tis thy +child, for God has at last sent us a son. _Yom Kippur_ night--now six +long months ago--I had a dream that God would forgive thee, and I was +glad. But when I thought to go home to thee in the evening, I learnt +that thou hadst been feasting all that dread Day of Atonement with the +_Satan Mekatrig_; and my heart fell, for I knew that my dream was but +the vain longing of my breast, and that through thine own misguided +soul thou couldst never be saved from the eternal vengeance. Then I +went away, far from here, and toiled and lived hard and lone; and I +believed not in my dream. But I prayed and prayed for thy soul, and +lo! very soon I was answered; for I knew we should have a child. And +then I entreated that it should be a son, to pray for thee, and +perhaps win thee back to God, and to say the _Kaddish_ after thee when +thou shouldst come to die, though I knew not that thy death was at +hand; and a few weeks back the Almighty was gracious and merciful to +me, and I had my wish." + +She ceased, her wan face radiant. The Shadow of Death could not chill +her sublime faith, her simple, trustful hope. The husband was clasping +the feebly whimpering babe to his frozen breast, and showering +passionate kisses on its unconscious form. + +"Rivkoly!" he whispered, as the tears rolled down his cheeks, "how +pale and thin thou art grown! O God, my sin has been heavy!" + +"No, no," she cried, her loving hand in his. "It was the _Satan +Mekatrig_ that led thee astray. I am well and strong. I will work for +our child, and train it up to pray for thee and to love thee. I have +named it Jacob, for it shall wrestle with the Recording Angel and +shall prevail." + +The hue of death deepened on Moshé Grinwitz's face, but it was +overspread by a divine calm. + +"Ah, the good old times we had at the _Cheder_ in Poland," he said. +"The rabbi was sometimes cross, but we children were always in good +spirits; and when the Rejoicing of the Law came round it was such fun +carrying the candles stuck in hollowed apples, and gnawing at your +candlestick as you walked. I always loved _Simchath Torah_, Rivkoly. +How long is it to the Rejoicing?" + +"It will soon be here again, now Passover is over," she said, pressing +his hand. + +"Is _Pesach_ over?" he said mournfully. "I don't remember giving +_Seder_. Why didst thou not remind me, Rivkoly? It was so wrong of +thee. Thou knowest how I loved the sight of the table--the angels +always seemed to hover about it. _Chad Gadyah! Chad Gadyah!_" he +commenced to sing in a cracked, hoarse whisper. The child burst into a +wail. "Hush, hush, Yaankely," said the mother, taking it to her +breast. + +"A--a--ah!" A wild scream rose from Moshé Grinwitz's lips. "My +_Kaddish_! Take not away my _Kaddish_!" He sat up, with clammy, +ghastly brow, and glared with sightless eyes, his arms groping. A thin +stream of blood oozed from his mouth. + +"Hear, O Israel!" screamed the woman, as she put her hand to his mouth +to stanch the blood. + +He beat her back wildly. "Not thee! I want not thee! My _Kaddish_!" +came the mad, hoarse whisper. "I have blasphemed God! Give me my +_Kaddish_! give me my _Kaddish_!" + +She put the child into his arms, and he clutched it in his dying +frenzy. As he felt its feeble form, the old divine peace came over his +face. The babe's cries were hushed in fear. The mother was dumb and +stony. And silently the Vapour crawled in sluggish folds through the +heavy air. + +But in a moment the silence was broken by a deep, stertorous rattle. +Moshé Grinwitz's head fell back; his arms relaxed their hold of his +child, which was caught with a wild cry to its mother's bosom. And the +dark Vapour lifted, and showed the three figures to the baleful, +agonized eyes of the hunchback at the open door. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +IX + +DIARY OF A MESHUMAD + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +IX + +DIARY OF A MESHUMAD[1] + + +_Tchemnovosk, Saturday (midnight)._--So! The first words have been +written. For the first time in my life I have commenced a diary. Will +it prove the solace I have heard it is? Shall I find these now cold, +blank pages growing more and more familiar, till I shall turn to them +as to a sympathetic friend; till this little book shall become that +loved and trusted confidant for whom my lonely soul longs? Instead of +either Black or White Clergy, this record in black and white shall be +my father confessor. Our village pope, to whom I have so often +confessed everything but the truth, would be indeed shocked, if he +could gossip with this, his new-created brother. What a heap of +roubles it would take to tranquillize him! Ah, God! _Ach_, God of +Israel! how is it possible that a man who has known the tenderest +human ties should be so friendless, so solitary in his closing years, +that not even in memory can he commune with a fellow-soul? Verily, the +old curse has wrought itself out, that penalty of apostasy which came +to my mind the other day after nearly forty years of forgetfulness, +that curse which has filled my spirit with shuddering awe, and driven +me to seek daily communion through thee, little book, even with my own +self of yesterday--"_And that soul shall be cut off from among its +people._" Yea, and from all others, too! For so many days and years +Caterina was my constant companion; I loved her as my own soul. Yet +was she but a sun that dazzled my eyes so that I could not gaze upon +my own soul; but a veil between me and my dead youth. The sun has sunk +forever below the horizon; the veil is rent. No phantom from the other +world hovers to remind me of our happiness. Those years, with all +their raptures and successes, are a dull blank. It is the years of +boyhood and youth which resurge in my consciousness; their tints are +vivid, their tones are clear. + +Why is this? Is it Caterina's death? Is it old age? Is it returning to +these village scenes after half a lifetime spent in towns? Is it the +sight of the _izbas_, and their torpid, tow-haired, sheepskin-clad +inhabitants, and the great slushy cabbage gardens, that has rekindled +the ashen past into colours of flame? And yet, except our +vodka-seller, there isn't a Jew in the place. However it be, +Caterina's face is filmy, phantasmal, compared with my mother's. And +mother died forty years ago; the grass of two short years grows over +my wife's grave. And Paul? He is living--he kissed me but a few +moments back. Yet _his_ face is far-away--elusive. The hues of life +are on my father's--poor, ignorant, narrow-minded, warm-hearted +father, whose heart I broke. Happily I have not to bear the +remembrance of his dying look, but can picture him as I saw him in +those miserable, happy days. My father's kiss is warm upon the lips +which my son's has just left cold. Poor St. Paul, living up there with +your ideals and your theories like a dove in a balloon! And yet, +_golubtchik_, how I love you, my handsome, gifted boy, fighting the +battle of life so pluckily and well! Ah! it is hard fighting when one +is hampered by a conscience. Is it your fault that the cold iron bar +of a secret lies between our souls; that a bar my own hands have +forged, and which I have not the courage or the strength to break, +keeps you from my inmost heart, and makes us strangers? No; you are +the best of sons, and love me truly. But if your eyes were purged, and +you could see the ugly, hateful thing, and through and beyond it, into +my ugly, hateful soul! Ah, no! That must never be. Your affection, +your reverential affection, is the only sacred and precious thing yet +left to me on earth. If I lost that, if my spirit were cut off even +from the semblance of human sympathy, then might the grave close over +my body, as it would have already closed over my soul. And yet should +I have the courage to die? Yes; for then Paul would know; Paul would +obey my wishes and see me buried among my people. Paul would hire +mourners (God! hired mourners, when I have a son!) to say the +_Kaddish_. Paul would do his duty, though his heart broke. Terrible, +ominous words! Break my son's heart as I did my father's! The +saints--_voi!_ I mean God--forfend! And for opposite reasons. _Ach_, +it is a strange world. Is religion, then, a curse, eternally dividing +man from man? No, I will not think these blasphemous thoughts. My +poor, brave Paul! + +To-morrow will be a hard day. + +_Sunday Night._--I have just read over my last entry. How cold, how +tame the words seem, compared with the tempest with which I am shaken. +And yet it _is_ a relief to have uttered them; to have given vent to +my passion and pain. Already this scrawl of mine has become sacred to +me; already this study in which I write has become a sanctuary to +which my soul turns with longing. All day long my diary was in my +thoughts. All my turbulent emotions were softened by the knowledge +that I should come here and survey them with calm; by the hope that +the tranquil reflectiveness which writing induces would lead me into +some haven of rest. And first let me confess that I am glad Paul goes +back to St. Petersburg on Tuesday. It is a comfort to have him here +for a few days, and yet, oh, how I dread to meet his clear gaze! How +irksome this close contact, with the rough rubs it gives to all my +sore places! How I abhorred myself to-day as I went through the +ghastly mimicries of prayer, and crossing myself, and genuflexion, in +our little church. How I hate the sight of its sky-blue dome and its +gilt minarets! When the pope brought me the Gospel to kiss, fiery +shame coursed through my veins. And then when I saw the look of humble +reverence on Paul's face as he pressed his lips to the silver-bound +volume, my blood was frozen to ice. Strange, dead memories seemed to +float about the incense-laden air; shadowy scenes; old, far-away +cadences. And when the deacon walked past me with his _bougie_, there +seemed to flash upon me some childish recollection of a joyous +candle-bearing procession, whereat my eyes grew filled with sudden +tears. The marble altar, the silver candlesticks, the glittering +jewelled scene faded into mist. And then the choir sang, and under the +music I grew calm again. After all, religions were made for men. And +this one was just fitted for the simple muzhiks who dotted the benches +with their stupid, good natured figures. They must have their +gold-bedecked gods in painting and image; and their saints in gold +brocade to kneel before at all hours to solace themselves with visions +of a brocaded Paradise. + +And yet what had I to do with these childish superstitions?--I whose +race preached the great doctrine of the Unity to a world sunk in vice +and superstition; whose childish lips were taught to utter the +_Shemang_ as soon as they could form the syllables; who _know_ that +the Christian creed is a monstrous delusion! To think that I have lent +the sanction of my manhood to these grotesque beliefs. Grotesque, say +I? when to Paul they are the essence of all lofty feeling and +aspiration! And yet I know that he is blind, or sees things with that +strange perversion of vision of which I have heard him accuse the +Jews--my brethren. He believes what he has been taught. And who taught +him? _Bozhe moi!_ was it not I who have brought him up in these +degrading beliefs, which he imagines I share? God! is this my +punishment, that he is faithful to the creed taught him by a father +who was faithless to his own? And yet there were excuses enough for +me, Thou knowest. Why did these forms and ceremonies, which now loom +beautiful to me through a mist of tears, seem hideous chains on the +free limbs of childhood? Was it my father's fault or my own that the +stereotyped routine of the day; that the being dragged out of bed in +the gray dawn to go to synagogue, or to intone in monotonous sing-song +the weary casuistries of the rabbis; that the endless precepts or +prohibitions, made me conceive religion as the most hateful of +tyrannies? Through the cloud of forty years I can but dimly recall +the violence of the repulsion with which things Jewish inspired me--of +how it galled me to feel that I was one of that detested race, that I +was that mockery and byword, a _Zhit_; that, with little sympathy with +my people, I was yet destined to partake of its burdens and its +disabilities. Bitter as my soul is within me to-day, I can yet +understand, can yet half excuse, that fatal mistake of ignorant and +ambitious youth. + +It were easy for me now to acknowledge myself a Jew, even with the +risk of Siberia before me. I am rich, I have some of the education for +which I longed, above all, I have _lived_. Ah, how differently the +world, with its hopes and its fears, and its praise and censure, looks +to the youth who is climbing slowly up the hill, and the man who is +swiftly descending to the valley! But the knowledge of the vanity of +all things comes too late; this, too, is vanity. Enough that I +sacrificed the sincerity and reality of life for unrealities, which +then seemed to me the only things worth having. There was none to +counsel, and none to listen. I fled my home; I was baptized into the +Church. At once all that hampered me was washed away. Before me +stretched the free, open road of culture and well-being. I was no +longer the slave of wanton laws, the laughing-stock of every Muscovite +infant, liable to be kicked and cuffed and spat at by every true +Russian. What mattered a lip-profession of Christianity, when I cared +as little for Judaism as for it? I never looked back; my prior life +faded quickly from my memory. Alone I fought the battle of +life--alone, unaided by man or hope in God. A few lucky speculations +on the Bourse, starting from the risking of the few kopecks amassed by +tuition, rescued me from the need of pursuing my law-studies. I fell +in love and married. Caterina, your lovely face came effectively +between me and what vague visions of my past, what dim uneasiness of +remorse, yet haunted me. You never knew--your family never knew--that +I was not a Slav to the backbone. The new life lay fold on fold over +the old; the primitive writing of the palimpsest was so thickly +written over, that no thought of what I had once been troubled me +during all those years of wedded life, made happier by your birth and +growth, my Paul, my darling Paul; no voice came from those forgotten +shores, save once, when--who knows through what impalpable medium?--I +learnt or divined my father's death, and all the air was filled with +hollow echoes of reproach. During those years I avoided contact with +Jews as much as I could; when it was inevitable, I made the contact +brief. The thought of the men, of their gabardines and their pious +ringlets, of their studious dronings and their devout quiverings and +wailings, of the women with their coarse figures and their unsightly +wigs; the remembrance of their vulgar dialect, and their shuffling +ways, and their accommodating morality, filled me with repulsion. As +if to justify myself to myself, my mind conceived of them only in +their meanest and tawdriest aspects. The black points alone caught my +eye, and linked themselves into a perfect-seeming picture. + +_Da_, I have been a good Russian, a good Christian. I have not stirred +my little finger to help the Jews in their many and grievous +afflictions. They were nothing to me. Over the vodka and the champagne +I have joined in the laugh against them, without even feeling I was of +them. Why, then, these strange sympathies that agitate me now; these +feelings, shadowy, but strong and resistless as the shadow of death? +Am I sane, or is this but incipient madness? Am I sinking into a +literal second childhood, in which all the terrors and the sanctities +that once froze or stirred my soul have come to possess me once more? +Am I dying? I have heard that the scene of half a century ago may be +more vivid to dying eyes than the chamber of death itself. Has +Caterina's death left a blank which these primitive beloved memories +rush in to fill up? Was it the light of her face that blinded me to +the dear homely faces of my father and mother? If I had not met her, +how would things have been? Should I have repented earlier of my +hollow existence? Was it the genuineness of her faith in her heathen +creed that made me acquiesce in its daily profession and its dominance +in our household life? And are the old currents flowing so strongly +now, only because they were so long artificially dammed up? Of what +avail to ask myself these questions? I asked them yesterday and I +shall be no wiser to-morrow. No man can analyze his own emotions, +least of all I, unskilled to sound the depths of my soul, content if +the surface be unruffled. Perhaps, after all, it is Paul who is the +cause of the troubling of the waters, which yet I am glad have not +been left in their putrid stagnation. For since Caterina's clay-cold +form was laid in the Moscow churchyard, and Paul and I have been +brought the nearer together for the void, my son has opened my eyes to +my baseness. The light that radiates from his own terrible nobleness +has shown me how black and polluted a soul is mine. My whole life has +been shuffled through under false colours. Even if I shared few of the +Jew's beliefs, it should have been my duty--and my proud duty--to +proclaim myself of the race. If, as I fondly believed, I was superior +to my people, then it behoved me to allow that superiority to be +counted to their credit and to the honour of the Jewish flag. My poor +brethren, sore indeed has been your travail, and your cry of pain +pierces the centuries. Perhaps--who knows?--I could have helped a +little if I had been faithful, as faithful as Paul will be to his own +ideals. Ah, if Paul had been a Jew--! My God! _is_ Paul a Jew? Have I +upon my shoulders the guilt of this loss to Judaism, too? + +Analyze myself, reproach myself, doubt my own sanity how I may, one +thing is clear. From the bottom of my heart I long, I yearn, I burn to +return to the religion of my childhood. I long to say and to sing the +Hebrew words that come scantily and with effort to my lips. I long to +join my brethren at prayer, to sit with them in the synagogue, in the +study, at the table; to join them in their worship and at their meals; +to share with them their joys and sorrows, their wrongs and their +inner delights. Laugh at myself how I will, I long to bind my arm and +brow with the phylacteries of old and to wrap myself in my fringed +shawl, and to abase myself in the dust before the God of Israel; nay, +to don the greasy gabardine at which I have mocked, and to let my hair +grow even as theirs. As yet this is all but a troubled aspiration, but +it is irresistible and must work itself out in deeds. It cannot be +argued with. The wind bloweth as it listeth; who shall say why I am +tempest-tossed? + +_Monday Night._--Paul has retired to rest to rise early to-morrow for +the journey to Moscow. For something has happened to alter his plans, +and he goes thither instead of to the capital. He is sleeping the +sleep of the young, the hopeful, and the joyous. _Ach_, that what +gives him joy should be to me--; but let me write down all. This +morning at breakfast Paul received a letter, which he read with a cry +of astonishment and joy. "Look, little father, look," he exclaimed, +handing it to me. I read, trying to disguise my own feelings and to +sympathize with his gladness. It was a letter from a firm of +well-known publishers in Moscow, offering to publish a work on the +Greek Church, the MS. of which he had submitted to them. + +"_Nu vot, batiushka_," said he, "I will tell you that this book +_donnera à penser_ to the theologians of the bastard forms of +Christianity." + +The ribald remark that rose to my lips did not pass them. "But why did +you not tell me of this before?" I asked instead, endeavouring to +infuse a note of reproach into my indifference. + +"Ah, father, I did not want you to distress yourself. I knew your +affection for me was so great that you might want to stint yourself, +and put yourself to trouble to help me to pay the expenses of +publication myself. You would have shared my disappointments. I wanted +you to share my triumph--as now. It is two years that I have been +trying to get it published. I wrote it in the year before mother, +whose soul is with the saints, left us. But, _eka!_ I am recompensed +at last." And his pale face beamed and his dark eyes flashed with +excitement. + +Yes, Paul was right. As Paul always is. Brought up, I think wisely, to +believe in my comparative poverty, he has become manlier for not +having a crutch to lean upon. Was it not enough that he was devoid +from the start of the dull, dead weight of Judaism which clogged my +own early years? Up to the present, though, he has not done so well as +I. Russian provincial journalism scatters few luxuries to its +votaries. Paul is so stupidly contented with everything that he is not +likely to write anything to make a sensation. He has not invented +gunpowder. + +Paul's voice broke in curiously on my reflections. "It ought to make +some sensation. I have collected a whole series of new arguments, +partly textual, partly historical, to show the absolute want of _locus +standi_ of any other than the Orthodox Church." + +"Indeed," I murmured, "and what _is_ the Orthodox Church?" Paul stared +at me. + +"I mean," I added hastily, "your conception of the Orthodox Church." + +"My conception?" said Paul. "I suppose you mean how do I defend the +conception which is embodied in our ceremonies and ritual?" And before +I could stop him, he had given me a summary of his arguments under +which I would not have kept awake if I had not been thinking of other +things. My poor boy! So this wire-drawn stuff about the Sacrament and +the Lord's Supper is what has cost you toilsome days and sleepless +nights, while to me the thought that I had embraced one variety of +Christianity rather than another had never before occurred. All forms +were the same to me, from Catholicism to Calvinism; the baptismal water +had glided from my back as from a duck's. True, I have lived with all +the conventional surroundings of my Christian fellow-countrymen, as I +have lived with the language of Russia on my lips, and subservient to +Russian customs and manners. But all the while I was neither a Russian +nor a Christian. I was a Jew. + +Every now and again I roused myself to laudatory assent to one of +Paul's arguments when I divined by his tone that it was due. But when +he wound up with a panegyric on "our glorious Russian State," and "our +little father, the Czar, God's Vicegerent on earth, who alone of +European monarchs incarnates and unites in his person Church and +State, so that loyalty and piety are one," I could not refrain from +pointing out that it was a pure fluke that Russia was "orthodox" at +all. + +"Suppose," said I, "Wladimir, when he made his famous choice between +the Creeds of the world, had picked Judaism? It all turned on a single +man's whim." + +"Father," Paul cried in a pained tone, "do not be blasphemous. +Wladimir was divinely inspired to dower his country with the true +faith. Just therein lay the wisdom of Providence in achieving such +great results through the medium of an individual. It is impossible +that God should have permitted him to incline his ear to the infidel +Israelite, who has survived to be at once a link with the past and a +living proof of the sterility of the soul that refuses the living +waters. The millions of holy Russia perpetuating the stubborn heresy +of the Jews--adopting an unfaith as a faith! The very thought makes +the blood run cold. Nay, then would every Russian deserve to be sunk +in squalor, dishonesty, and rapacity, even as every Jew." + +"Not every Jew, Paul," I remonstrated. + +"No, not perhaps every Jew in squalor," he assented, with a sarcastic +laugh; "for too many of the knaves have feathered their nests very +comfortably. Even the Raskolnik is more tolerable. And many of them +are not even Jews. The Russian Press is infested with these fellows, +who take the bread out of the mouths of honest Christians, and will +even write the leaders in the religious papers. Believe me, little +father, these Jewish scribblers who have planted their flagstaffs +everywhere have cost me many a heartache, many a disappointment." + +I could not help thinking this sentiment somewhat unworthy of my Paul, +though it threw a flood of light on the struggle, whose details he had +never troubled me with. I began to doubt my wisdom in sending so +unpractical a youth out into the battle of life, to hew his way as +best he might. But how was I to foresee that he would become a writing +man, that he would be tripped up at every turn by some clever Hebrew, +and that his aversion from the race would be intensified? + +"But surely," I said, after a moment of silence, "our Slavic +journalists are not all Christians, either." + +"They are not," he admitted sadly. "The Universities have much to +answer for. Instead of rigidly excluding every vicious book that +unsettles the great social and religious ideals of which God designed +Russia to be the exponent, the works of Spencer and Taine, and Karl +Marx and Tourguénieff, and every literary Antichrist, are allowed to +poison faith in the sap. The censor only bars the superficially +anti-Russian books. But there will come a reaction. A reaction," he +added solemnly, "to which this work of mine may, by the grace of God, +be permitted to contribute." + +I could have laughed at my son if I had not felt so inclined to weep. +Paul's pietism irritated me for the first time. Was it that _my_ +reaction against my past had become stronger than ever, was it that +Paul had never exposed his own narrowness so completely before? I know +not. I only know I felt quite angry with him. "And how do you know +there will ever be a reaction?" I asked. + +"Christ never leaves himself without a witness long," he answered +sententiously. "And already there are symptoms enough that the creed +of the materialist does not satisfy the soul. Look at our Tolstoï, who +is coming back to Christianity after ranging at will through the gaudy +pleasure-grounds of science and life; it is true his Christianity is +cast after his own formula, and that he has still much intellectual +pride to conquer, but he is on the right road to the fountain of +life. But, little father, you are unlike yourself this morning," he +went on, putting his hand to my hot forehead. "You are not well." He +kissed me. "Let me give you another cup of tea," he said, and turned +on the tap of the samovar with an air that disposed of the subject. + +I sipped at my cup to please him, remarking in the interval between +two sips as indifferently as I could, "But what makes you so bitter +against the Jews?" + +"And what makes you so suddenly their champion?" he retorted. + +"When have I championed them?" I asked, backing. + +"Your pardon," he said. "Of course I should have understood you are +only putting in a word for them for argument's sake. But I confess I +have no patience with any one who has any patience with these +bloodsuckers of the State. Every true Russian must abhor them. They +despise the true faith, and are indifferent to our ideals. They sneak +out of the conscription. They live for themselves, and regard us as +their natural prey. Our peasantry are corrupted by their brandy-shops, +squeezed by their money-lenders, and roused to discontent by the +insidious utterances of their peddlers, d----d wandering Jews, who +hate the Government and the Tschinn and everything Russian. When did a +Jew invest his money in Russian industries? They are a filthy, +treacherous, swindling set. Believe me, _batiushka_, pity is wasted +upon them." + +"Pity is never spent upon them," I retorted. "They are what the +Russians--what we Russians--have made them. Who has pent them into +their foul cellars and reeking dens? They work with their brains, and +you--we--abuse them for not working with their hands. They work with +their hands, and the Czar issues a ukase that they are to be driven +off the soil they have tilled. It is Ĉsop's fable of the wolf and the +lamb." + +"In which the wolf is the Jew," said Paul coolly. "The Jew can always +be trusted to take care of himself. His cunning is devilish. Till his +heart is regenerate, the Jew remains the Ishmael of the modern world, +his hand against every man's, every man's against his." + +"'Love thy neighbour as thyself,'" I quoted bitterly. + +"Even so," said Paul. "The Jew must be cut off, even as the Christian +must pluck out his own eye if it offendeth him. Christ came among us +to bring not peace but a sword. If the Kingdom of Christ is delayed by +these vermin, they must be poisoned off for the sake of Russia and +humanity at large." + +"Vermin, indeed!" I cried hotly, for I could no longer restrain +myself. "And what know you of these vermin of whom you speak with such +assurance? What know you of their inner lives, of their sanctified +homes, of their patient sufferings? Have you penetrated to their +hearths and seen the beautiful _naïveté_ of their lives, their simple +faith in God's protection, though it may well seem illusion, their +unselfish domesticity, their sublime scorn of temptation, their +fidelity to the faith of their ancestors, their touching celebrations +of fast and festival, their stanchness to one another, their humble +living and their high respect for things intellectual, their +unflinching toil from morn till eve for a few kopecks of gain, their +heroic endurance of every form of torment, vilification, contempt--?" +I felt myself bursting into tears and broke from the breakfast table. + +Paul followed me to my room in amazement. In the midst of all my +tempest of emotion I was no less amazed at my own indiscretion. + +"What is the matter with you?" he said, clasping his arm around my +neck. "Why make yourself so hot over this accursed race, for whom, +from some strange whim or spirit of perverseness, you stand up to-day +for the first time in my recollection?" + +"It is true; why indeed?" I murmured, striving to master myself. After +all, the picture I had drawn was as ideal in its beauty as Paul's in +its ugliness. "_Nu_, I only wanted you to remember that they were +human beings." + +"_Ach_, there is the pity of it," persisted Paul; "that human beings +should fall so low. And who has been telling you of all these angelic +qualities you roll so glibly off your tongue?" + +"No one," I answered. + +"Then you have invented them. Ha! ha! ha!" And Paul went off into a +fit of good-humoured laughter. That laughter was a sword between his +life and mine, but I let a responsive smile play across my features, +and Paul went to his own room in higher spirits than ever. + +We met again at dinner, and again at our early supper, but Paul was +too full of his book, and I of my own thoughts to permit of a renewal +of the dispute. Even a saint, I perceive, has his touch of egotism, +and behind all Paul's talk of Russia's ideals, of the misconceptions +of their fatherland's function by feather-brained Nihilists and +Democrats possessed of that devil, the modern spirit, there danced, I +am convinced, a glorified vision of St. Paul floating down the vistas +of the future, with a nimbus of Russian ideals around his head. If he +has only put them as eloquently into his book as he talks of them he +will at least be read. + +But I have bred a bigot. + +And the more bigoted he is, the more my heart faints within me for the +simple, sublime faith of my people. Behind all the tangled network of +ceremony and ritual, the larger mind of the man who has lived and +loved sees the outlines of a creed grand in its simplicity, sublime in +its persistence. The spirit has clothed itself on with flesh, as it +must do for human eyes to gaze on it and live with it; and if, in +addition, it has swaddled itself with fold on fold of garment, even so +the music has not gone out of its voice, nor the love out of its eyes. + +As soon as Paul is gone to-morrow, I must plan out my future life. His +book will doubtless launch him on the road to fame and fortune. But +what remains for me? To live on as I am doing would be intolerable. To +do nothing for my people, either with voice or purse, to live alone in +this sleepy hamlet, cut off from all human fellowship, alienated from +everything that makes my neighbours' lives endurable--better death +than such a death-in-life. And yet is it possible that I can get into +touch again with my youth, that after a sort of Rip Van Winkle sleep, +I can take up again and retwine the severed strands? How shall my +people receive again a viper into its bosom? Well, come what may, +there must be an end to this. Even at this moment reproachful voices +haunt my ear; and in another moment, when I put down my pen to go to +my sleepless bed, I shall take care to light my bed-room candle before +extinguishing my lamp, for the momentary darkness would be filled with +impalpable solemnity bordering on horror. Flashes and echoes from the +ghostly world of my youth, the faces of my dead parents, strange +fragments of sound and speech, the sough of the wind in the trees of +the "House of the Living," the far-away voice of the Chazan singing +some melancholy tune full of heart-break and weirdness, the little +crowded Cheder where the rabbi intoned the monotonous lesson, the +whizz of the stone little Ivanovitch flung at my forehead because I +had "killed Christ"--. No, my nerves are not strong enough to bear +these visions and voices. + +All my life long I see now I have been reserved and solitary. Never +has any one been admitted to my heart of hearts--not even Caterina. +But now I must unburden my soul to some one ere I die. And to another +living soul. For this dead sheet of paper will not, I perceive, do +after all. + +_Saturday Night._--Nearly a week has passed since I wrote the above +words, and I am driven to your pages again. I would have come to you +last night, but suddenly I recollected that it was the Sabbath. I have +kept the Sabbath. I have prayed a few broken fragments of prayer, +recovered almost miraculously from the deeps of memory. I have rested +from every toil. I stayed myself from stirring up the fire, though it +was cold and I was shivering. And a new peace has come to me. + +I have heard from Paul; he has completed the negotiations with the +Moscow booksellers. The book is to have every chance. Of course, in a +way I wish it success. It cannot do much harm, and I am proud of Paul, +after all. What a rabbi he would have made! It seems these publishers +are also the owners of a paper, and Paul is to have some work on it, +which will give him enough to live upon. So he will stay in Moscow for +a few months and see his book through the press. He fears the distance +is too great for him to come to and fro, as he would have done had he +been at the capital. Though I know I shall long for his presence +sometimes in my strange reactions, yet on the whole I feel relieved. +To-morrow without Paul will be an easier day. I shall not go to +church, though honest old Clara Petroffskovna may stare and cross +herself in holy horror, and spoil the _borsch_. As for the +neighbours--let the _startchina_ and the _starostas_ and the retired +major from Courland, and even the bibulous Prince Shoubinoff, gossip +as they will. I cannot remain here now for more than a few weeks. +Besides, I can be unwell. No, on second thoughts, I shall not be +unwell. I have had enough of shuffling and deceit. + +_Sunday._--A day of horrible _ennui_ and despair. I tried to read the +Old Testament, of course in Russian, for Hebrew books I have none, and +it is doubtful whether I could read them if I had. But the black cloud +remained. It chokes me as I write. My limbs are as lead, my head +aches. And yet I know the ailment is not of the body. + +_Monday._--The depression persists. I made a little expedition into +the country. I rowed up the stream in a _duscehubka_. I tried to +forget everything but the colours of the forest and the sparkle of +the waters. The air was less cold than it has been for the last few +days, but the russet of the pine-leaves spoke to me only of melancholy +and decay. The sun set in blood behind the hills. Once I heard the +howl of the wolves, but they were far away. + +_Monday._--So. Just a week. Nicholas Alexandrovitch says I must not +write yet, but I _must_ fill up the record, even if in a few lines. It +is strange how every habit--even diary-keeping--enslaves you, till you +think only of your neglected task. Ah, well! if I have been ill, I +have been lucky in my period, for those frightful storms would have +kept me indoors. Nicholas Alexandrovitch says it was a _mild_ attack +of influenza. God preserve me from a severe one! And yet would it not +be better if it had carried me off altogether? But that is a cowardly +thought. I must face the future bravely, for my own hands have forged +my fate. How the writing trembles and contorts itself! I must remember +Nicholas's caution. He is a frank, good-hearted fellow, is our village +doctor, and I have had two or three talks with him from between the +bedclothes. I don't think friend Nicholas is a very devout Christian, +by the by; for he said one or two things which I should have taken +seriously, had I been what he thinks I am; but which had an audacious, +ironical sound to my sympathetic, sceptical ears. How funny was that +story about the Archimandrite of Czernovitch! + +_Thursday Afternoon._--My haste to be out of bed precipitated me back +again into it. But the actual pain has been small. I have grown very +friendly with Nicholas Alexandrovitch, and he has promised to spend +the evening with me. I am better now in body, though still troubled in +mind. Paul's silence has brought a new anxiety. He has not written for +twelve days. What can be the matter with him? I suppose he is +overworking himself. And now to hunt up my best cigarettes for +_Monsieur le médecin_. Strange that illness should perhaps have +brought me a friend. Nothing, alas! can bring me a confidant. + +_11 p.m._--Astounding discovery! Nicholas Alexandrovitch is a Jew! I +don't know how it was, but suddenly something was said; we looked at +each other, and then a sort of light flashed across our faces; we read +the mutual secret in each other's eyes; a magnetic impulse linked our +hands together in a friendly clasp, and we felt that we were brothers. +And yet Nicholas is a whole world apart from me in feeling and +conviction. How strange and mysterious is this latent brotherhood +which binds our race together through all differences of rank, +country, and even faith! For Nicholas is an agnostic of agnostics; he +is even further removed from sympathy with my new-found faith than the +ordinary Christian, and yet my sympathy with him is not only warmer +than, but different in _kind_ from, that which I feel toward any +Christian, even Caterina's brother. I have told him all. Yes, little +book, him also have I told all. And he sneers at me. But there lurks +more fraternity in his sneer than in a Christian's applause. We are +knit below the surface like two ocean rocks, whose isolated crests +rise above the waters. Nicholas laughs at there being any Judaism to +survive, or anything in Judaism worth surviving. He declares that the +chosen people have been chosen for the plaything of the fates, fed +with illusions and windy conceit, and rewarded for their fidelity with +torture and persecution. He pities them, as he would pity a dog that +wanders round its master's grave, and will not eat for grief. In fact, +save for this pity, he is even as I was until these new emotions rent +me. He is outwardly a Christian, because he could not live comfortably +otherwise, but he has nothing but contempt for the poor peasants whose +fever-wrung brows he touches with a woman's hand. He looks upon them +only as a superior variety of cattle, and upon the well-to-do people +here as animals with all the vices of the muzhiks, and none of their +virtues. For my Judaic cravings he has a good-natured mockery, and +tells me I was but sickening for this influenza. He says all my +symptoms are physical, not spiritual; that the loss of Caterina +depressed me, that this depression drove me into solitude, and that +this solitude in its turn reacted on my depression. He thinks that +religion is a secretion of morbid minds, and that my Judaism will +vanish again with the last traces of my influenza. And, indeed, there +is much force in what he says, and much truth in his diagnosis and +analysis of my condition. He advises me to take plenty of outdoor +exercise, and to go back again to one of the great towns. To go back +to Judaism, to ally one's self with an outcast race and a dying +religion is, he thinks, an act of folly only paralleled by its +inutility. The world will outgrow all these forms and prejudices in +time is his confident assurance, as he puffs tranquilly at his +cigarette and sips his Chartreuse. He points out, what is true enough, +that I am not alone in my dissent from the religion I profess; for, as +he epigrammatically puts it, the greatest Raskolniks[2] are the +Orthodox. The religious statistics of the Procurator of the State +Synod are, indeed, a poor index to the facts. Well, there is comfort +in being damned in company. I do not agree with him on any other +point, but he has done me good. The black cloud is partially +lifted--perhaps the trouble was only physical, after all. I feel +brighter and calmer than for months past. Anyhow, if I am to become a +Jew again, I can think it out quietly. Even if I could bear Paul's +contempt, there would always be, as Nicholas points out, great peril +for me in renouncing the Orthodox faith. True, it would be easy enough +to bribe the priest and the authorities, and to continue to receive +my eucharistical certificate. But where is the sacrifice in that? It +is hypocrisy exchanged for hypocrisy. And then what would become of +Paul's prospects if it were known his father was a _Zhit_? But I +cannot think of all this now. Paul's silence is beginning to fill me +with a frightful uneasiness. A presentiment of evil weighs upon me. My +dear dove, my _dusha_ Paul! + +_Friday Afternoon._--Still no letter from Paul. Can anything have +happened? I have written to him, briefly informing him that I have +been unwell. I shall ride to Zlotow and telegraph, if I do not hear in +a day or two. + +_Saturday Morning._--All petty and stupid thoughts of my own spiritual +condition are swallowed up in the thought of Paul. Ever selfish, I +have allowed him to dwell alone in a far-off city, exposed to all the +vicissitudes of life. Perhaps he is ill, perhaps he is half-starved on +his journalistic pittance. + +_Saturday Night._--A cruel disappointment! A letter came, but it was +only from my man of business, advising investment in some South +American loan. Have given him _carte blanche_. Of what use is my money +to me? Even Paul couldn't spend it now, with the training I have given +him. He is only fitted for the cowl. He may yet join the Black Clergy. +Why does he not write, my poor St. Paul? + +_Sunday._--Obedient to the insistent clamour of the bells, I +accompanied Nicholas Alexandrovitch to _church_, and mechanically +asked help of the Virgin at the street corner. For I have gone back +into my old indifference, as Nicholas predicted. I have given the +necessary orders. The _paracladnoi_ is ready. To-morrow I go to +Zlotow; thence I take the train for Moscow. He will not tell me the +truth if I wire.... The weather is bitterly cold, and the stoves here +are so small.... I am shivering again, but a glass of vodka will put +me right.... A knock.... Clara Petroffskovna has run to the door. Who +can it be? Paul? + +_Monday Afternoon._--No, it was not Paul. Only Nicholas +Alexandrovitch. He had heard in the village that I was making +preparations for a journey, and came to inquire about it, and to +reproach me for not telling him. He looked relieved when I told him it +was only to Moscow to look after Paul. I fancy he thought I had had a +fit of remorse for my morning's devotions, and was off to seek +readmission into the fold. Except our innkeeper, there is not a Jew in +this truly God-forsaken place. Of course, I don't reckon myself--or +the doctor. I wonder if our pope is a Jew! I laugh--but who knows? +Anyhow I am here, wrapped in my thickest fur cloak, while it is +Nicholas who is on the road to Moscow. He spoke truly in saying I was +too weak yet to undertake the journey--that springless _paracladnoi_ +alone is enough to knock a healthy man up; though whether he was +equally veracious in professing to have business to transact in +Moscow, I cannot say. _Da_, he is a good fellow, is my brother +Nicholas. To-morrow I shall know if anything has happened to my son, +to my only child. + +_Tuesday Night._--Thank God! A wire from Nicholas. "Have seen Paul. No +cause for uneasiness. Will write." Blessings on you, my friend, for +the trouble you have taken for me. I feel much better already. Paul +has, I suppose, been throwing himself heart and soul into this new +journalistic work, and has forgotten his loving father. After all, it +is only a fortnight, though it has seemed months. Anyhow, he will +write. I shall hear from him in a day or two now. But a sudden +thought. "Will write." Who will write? Paul or Nicholas? Oh, Paul; +Paul without doubt. Nicholas has told him of my anxiety. Yes. +To-morrow night or the next morning I shall have a letter from Paul. +All is well. + +If I were to tell Paul the truth, I wonder what he would say! I am +afraid I shall never know. + +_Thursday Noon._--A letter from Nicholas. I cannot do better than +place it here. + + "MY DEAR DEMETRIUS,--I hope you got my telegram and are at ease + again. I had a lively journey up here, travelling in company + with a Government _employé_, who is very proud of his country, + and of the Stanislaus cross round his neck. Such a pompous ass I + have never met; he beats even our friend, Prince Shoubinoff, in + his Sunday clothes, with the _barina_ on his arm. As you may + imagine, I drew him out like a telescope. I have many a droll + story for you when I return. To come to Paul. I made it my + business at once to call upon the publishers--it is one of the + largest firms here--and from them I learnt that your son was + still at the same address, in the _Kitai-Gorod_, as that given + in the first and only letter you have had from him. I did not + care about going there direct, for I thought it best that he + should be unaware of my presence, in case there should be + anything which it would be advisable for me to find out for your + information. However, by haunting the neighbourhood of the + offices of his newspaper, I caught sight of him within a couple + of hours. He has a somewhat over-wrought expression in his + countenance, and does not look particularly well. I fancy he is + exciting himself about the production of his book. He has not + seen me yet, nor shall I let him see me till I ascertain that he + is not in any trouble. It is only his silence to you that makes + me fancy something may be the matter; otherwise I should + unhesitatingly put down his pallor and intensity of expression + to over-work and, perhaps, religious fervour. He went straight + to the Petrovski Cathedral on leaving the offices. I am here for + a few days longer, and will write again. It is frightfully cold. + The thermometer is at freezing point. I sit in my _shuba_ and + shiver. _Au revoir._ + + "NICHOLAS ALEXANDROVITCH." + +There is something not quite satisfying about this letter. It looks as +if there was more beneath the surface. Paul is evidently looking ill +or ecstatic, or both. But, at any rate, my main anxiety is allayed. I +can wait with more composure for Nicholas's second letter. But why +does not the boy write himself? He must have got the letter telling +him I had been unwell. And yet not a word of sympathy! I don't half +like Nicholas's idea of playing the spy, though, as if my son is not +to be trusted. What can he suspect? But Nicholas Alexandrovitch +dearly loves to invent a mystery for the sake of ferreting it out. +These scientific men are so sharp that they often cut themselves. + +_Friday Afternoon._--At last Paul has written. + + "MY DARLING PAPASHA,--I am surprised you should be anxious about + me. I am quite comfortable here, and have now conquered all the + difficulties that beset me at the first. How came you to allow + yourself to be unwell? I hope Nicholas Alexandrovitch is taking + care of you. By the by, I almost thought I saw him here this + morning on the bridge, looking over into the _reka_, but there + was a church procession, and I had hurried past the man before + the thought struck me, and the odds were so much against its + being our _zemski-doktor_, that I would not trouble to turn + back. I have already corrected the proofs of several sheets of + my book. It will be dedicated, by special permission, to + Archbishop Varenkin. My articles in the _Courier_ are attracting + considerable attention. I have left orders for the publishers to + send you my last, which will appear to-morrow. May the holy + Mother and the saints watch over you. + + --Your devoted son, PAUL. + + "P.S.--I am making more money than I want, and I shall be glad + to send you some, if you have any wants unsupplied." + +My darling boy! How could I ever have felt myself alienated from you? +I will come to you and live with you and share your triumphs. No +miserable scruples shall divide our lives any more. The past is +ineradicable; the future is its inevitable fruit. So be it. My +spiritual yearnings and wrestlings were but the outcome of a morbid +physical condition. Nicholas was right. And now to read my son's +article, which I have here, marked with a blue border. Why should I, +with my superficial ponderings, be right and he wrong? + +_Saturday Night._--I have a vague remembrance that three stars marked +the close of the Sabbath. And here in the frosty sky I see a whole +host scintillating in the immeasurable depths. The Sabbath is over and +once more I drag myself to my writing desk to pour out the anguish of +a tortured spirit. All day I have sat as in a dumb trance gazing out +beyond the _izbas_ and the cabbage fields toward the eternal hills. +How beautiful and peaceful everything is! God, wilt Thou not impart to +me the secret of peace? + +Little did I divine what awaited my eyes when they rested fondly on +the first sentence of Paul's article. _Voi_, it was a pronouncement on +the Jewish question, venomous, scathing, mordant, terrific. It was an +indictment of the race, lit up with all the glow of moral indignation; +cruel and slanderous, yet noble and righteous in its tone and ideals; +base as hell, yet pure as heaven; breathing a savagery as of +Torquemada, and a saintliness as of Tolstoï. Paul in every line, my +own noble, bigoted, wrong-headed Paul. As I read it, my whole frame +trembled. A corresponding passion and indignation stirred my blood to +fever-heat. All my slumbering Jewish instincts woke again to fresh +life; and I knew myself for the weak, miserable wretch that I am. To +think that a son of mine should thus vilify his own race. What can I +do? _Bozhe moi_, what can I do? How can I stop this horrible, +unnatural thing? I dare not open Paul's eyes to what he is doing. And +yet it is my duty.... It is my duty. By that token I know I shall not +do it. Heaven have pity on me! + +_Tuesday._--Heaven have pity on Paul! Here is Nicholas's promised +letter. + + "DEAR DEMETRIUS,--I have strange news for you. It is quite + providential (I use the word without prejudice, as the lawyers + say) that I came here. But all is well now, so you may read what + follows without alarm. Last Thursday morning, during my + purposeful wanderings within Paul's usual circuit, I came face + to face with our young gentleman. His eyes stared straight at me + without seeing me. His face was ghastly white, and the lines + were rigid as if with some stern determination. His lips were + moving, but I could not catch his mutterings. He held a sealed + letter in his hand. I saw the superscription. It was addressed + to you. Instantly the dread came to my mind that he was about to + commit suicide, and that this was his farewell to you. I + followed him. He posted the letter at the post-office, turned + back, threaded his way like a somnambulist across the bridge, + without, however, approaching the parapet, walked mechanically + onward to his own apartments, put the latch-key into the + house-door, and then fell back in a dead faint--into my arms. I + took him upstairs, explained what had happened, put him to bed, + and--I write this from the bedside. For the crisis is over now; + the brain fever has abated, and he has now nothing to do but to + get well, though he will be longer about it than a young fellow + of his age has a right to be. His body is emaciated with fasts + and vigils and penances. I curse religion when I look at him. As + if the struggle for life were not hard enough without humanity + being hampered by these miserable superstitions. But you will be + wanting to know what is the matter. Well, _batiushka_, what + should be the matter but the old, old matter? _La femme_ is, + strange to relate, a fine specimen of our own race of lovely + women, my dear Demetrius. She is a Jewess of the most orthodox + family in Moscow, and therein lies the crux of the situation. (I + am not playing upon words, but the phrase is doubly significant + here.) Of course Paul has not the slightest idea I know all + this; but of course I have had it from his hot lips all the + same. As far as I have been able to piece his broken utterances + together, they have had some stolen love passages, each followed + by swift remorse on both sides, and--another furtive love + passage. Paul has been comparing himself to St. Anthony, and + even to Jesus, when Satan, _ce chef admirable_, spread a + first-class dinner in the wilderness. But the poor lad must have + suffered much behind all his heroics. And what his final + resolution to give her up cost him is pretty evident. I suppose + he must have told you of it in that letter. Isn't it the oddest + thing in the world? Rachel Jacobvina is the girl's name, and her + people keep a clothes' store round the corner, and her father is + the Parnass (you will remember what that means) of his + synagogue. She is a sweet little thing; and Paul evidently has a + taste for other _belles_ than _belles-lettres_. From what you + told me of him I fully expected this sort of thing. The poor + fellow is looking at me now from among his iced bandages with a + piteous air of resignation to the will of Nicholas + Alexandrovitch in bringing him back to this world of trouble + when he already felt his wings sprouting. Poor Paul! He little + dreams what I am writing; but he will get over this, and marry + some fair, blue-eyed Circassian with corresponding tastes in + fasting, and an enthusiastic longing for the Kingdom of God, + when the year shall be a perpetual Lent. In his failure to + realize history, he thinks it a crime to adore a Jewish virgin, + though he spends half his time in adoring the Madonna. How + shocked he would be if I pointed this out! People who look + through ecclesiastical spectacles so rarely realize that the + Holy Family was a Jewish one. But my pen is running away with + me, and our patient looks thirsty. _Proshchaï_. + + "NICHOLAS." + + "P.S.--There is not the slightest danger of a relapse unless the + image of this diabolical girl comes before him again. And I + keep his attention distracted. Besides, he had finally conquered + his passion. This illness was at once the seal and the witness + of his unchangeable resolve. I have heard him repeat the terms + of the letter of farewell he sent her. It was final." + +So this was the meaning of your silence; this the tragedy that lay +behind your simple sentence, "I have now conquered all the +difficulties which beset me at the first." This was the motive that +guided your hand to write those bitter lines about our race, so that +you might henceforth cut yourself off from the possibility of allying +yourself with it even in thought. I understand all now, my poor +high-mettled boy. How you must have suffered! How your pride must have +rebelled at the idea that you might have to make such a confession to +me--little knowing I should have hailed it with delight. That +temptation should have assailed you, too, at such a period--when you +were publishing your great work on the ideals of Holy Russia! +Mysterious, indeed, are the ways of Providence. And yet why may not +all be well after all, and Heaven grant me such grace as I would +willingly sacrifice my life to deserve? It is impossible that my son's +passion can be utterly dead. Such fires are only covered up. I will go +to him and tell him all. The news that he is a Jew will revolutionize +him. His love will flame up afresh and take on the guise and glamour +of duty. Love, posing as logic, will whisper in his ear that no bars +of early training can avail to keep him from the race to which he +belongs by blood and by his father's faith. In this girl's eyes he +will read God's message of command, and I, God's message of Peace and +Reconciliation. The tears are in my eyes; I can hardly see to write. +The happiness I foresee is too great. Blessings on your sweet face, +Rachel Jacobvina, my own darling daughter that is to be. To you is +allotted the blessed task of solving a fearful problem, of rescuing +and reuniting two human lives. Yes, Heaven is indeed merciful. +To-morrow I start for Moscow. + +_Thursday._--How can I write it? No, there is no pity in Heaven. The +sky smiles in steely blankness. The air cuts like a knife. Paul is +well, or as well as a convalescent can be. He must have had a heart of +ice. But it is fortunate he had, seeing what the icy fates have +wrought. I arrived at Moscow, and hurried in a _droshky_ across the +well-known bridge to Paul's lodgings. A ghastly procession stopped me. +Some _burlaks_ were bearing the corpse of a young girl who had thrown +herself into the ice-laden river. A clammy foreboding gathered at my +heart, but ere I had time to say a word, an old, caftan-clad man, with +agonized eyes and a white, streaming beard, dashed up, pulled off the +face-cloth, revealing a strange, weird loveliness, uttered a scream +which yet rings in my ears, threw himself passionately on the body, +rose up again, murmured something solemnly and resignedly in Hebrew, +rent his garments, readjusted the face-cloth, and followed weeping in +the rear. And from lip to lip, that for once forgot to curl in scorn, +flew the murmur: "Rachel Jacobvina." + +_Saturday Night._--I slouched into the synagogue this morning, the +cynosure of suspicious eyes. I nearly uncovered my head in +forgetfulness. Somebody offered me a _Talith_, which I wrapped round +myself with marked awkwardness. The service moved me beyond measure. I +have neither the pen nor the will to describe my sensations. I was a +youth again. The intervening decades faded away. Rachel's father said +the _Kaddish_. The peace of God has touched my soul. Paul is asleep. I +have made Nicholas take his much-needed rest. I am reading the Hebrew +Psalms. The language comes back to me bit by bit. + +_Monday._--Paul is sitting up reading--proofs. I have been to condole +with Rachel's father, as he sat mourning upon the ground. I explained +that I was a stranger in the town, and had heard of the accident. I +have given five hundred roubles to the synagogue. The whole +congregation is buzzing with the generosity of the rich Jewish farmer +from the country. Fortunately there is no danger of Paul hearing +anything of my doings. He is a prisoner; and Nicholas and myself keep +watch over him by turns. + +_Tuesday._--I have just come from a meeting of the Palestine +Colonization Society. Heavens, what ideals burn in these breasts +supposed to throb only with cupidity and cunning! Their souls still +turn to the Orient, as the needle turns to the pole. And how the +better-off among them pity their weaker brethren! With what enthusiasm +they plot and plan to get them beyond the frontier into freer +countries, but chiefly into the centre of all Jewish aspiration, the +Holy Land! How they wept when I doubled their finances at a stroke. My +poor, much-wronged brethren! + + * * * * * + +_Odessa, Monday._--It is almost a year since I closed this book, and +now, after a period of peace, I am driven to it again. Paul has made +an irruption into my tranquil household. For eleven months now I have +lived in this little two-storied house overlooking the roadstead, with +Isaac and the _ekonomka_ for my sole companions. So long as I could +pour my troubles into the ear of the venerable old rabbi (who was +starving for material sustenance when I took him, as I was for +spiritual), so long I had no need of you, my old confidant. But this +visit of Paul has reopened all my sores. I have smuggled the rabbi out +of the way; but even if he were here, he could not understand the +terrible situation. The God of Israel alone knows what I feel at +having to deny Him, at having to hide my faith from my own son. He +must not stay. The New Year is nigh, with its feasts and fasts. +Moreover, surrounded as one is by spies, Paul's presence here may +lead to discoveries that I am not what the authorities imagine. +Perhaps it would have been better if I had gone back to the village. +But no. There was that church-going. A village is so small. In this +great and bustling seaport I am lost, or comparatively so. A few +roubles in the ecclesiastical palm, and complete oblivion settles on +me. + +To-night I shall know to what I owe this sudden visit. Paul is +radiant. He plays with his untold news like a child with a new toy. He +drops all sorts of mysterious hints. He frisks around me like a fond +spaniel. But he reserves his tit-bit for to-night, when the tramp of +the sailors and the perambulating peasantry shall have died away, and +we shall be seated cosily in my study, smoking our cigarettes, and +looking out toward the quiet lights of the shipping. Of course it is +good news--Heaven help me, I fear Paul's good news. Good news that +Paul has come all the way from St. Petersburg to tell me, which only +his own lips may tell me, must, if past omens speak truly, be +terrible. God grant I may survive the telling. + +What a coward I am! Have I not long since made up my mind that Paul +must go his way and I mine? What difference, then, can his news make +to me? He will never know now that I am a _Zhit_ unless he hears it +from my dying lips as I utter the declaration of the Unity. I made up +my mind to that when I came here. Paul threatens to make his mark as +a writer on theological subjects. To tell him the truth would only +sadden him and do him no good; while to reveal my own Judaism to the +world would but serve to damage him and injure his prospects. This may +seem but a cover for my cowardice, for my fear of State reprisals; but +it is true for all that. _Bozhe moi_, is it not punishment enough not +to be able to join my brethren in their worship? I must remain here, +where I am unknown, practising my religion unostentatiously and in +secret. The sense of being in a Jewish city satisfies my soul. We are +here more than a fourth of the population. House-rent and fuel are +very dear, but we thrive and prosper, thanks to God. I give to our +poor, through Isaac, but they hardly want my help. I rejoice in the +handsome synagogues, though I dare not enter them. Yes, I am best +here. Why be upset by my boy's visit? Paul will tell me his news, I +shall congratulate him, he will go back to the capital, and all will +be as before. + +_Monday Midnight._--No, all can never be as before. One last step +remained to divide our lives to all eternity. _Voi_, Paul has taken +it. + +All came off as arranged. We sat together at my window. It was a +glorious night, and a faint, fresh wind blew in from the sea. The +lights in the harbour twinkled, the stars glistened in the sky. But as +Paul told me his good news, the whole horizon was one great flame +before my eyes. He began by recapitulating, though with fuller details +than was possible by letter, what I knew pretty well already; the +story of the great success of his book, which had been reviewed in all +the theological magazines of Europe, and had gone through four +editions in the year, and been translated into German and Italian; the +story of how he had been encouraged to come to St. Petersburg, and how +he had prospered on the press there. And then came the grand news--he +was offered the editorship of the _Novoe Vremia_, the great St. +Petersburg paper! + +In an instant I realized all it meant, and in my horror I almost +fainted. Paul would direct this famous Government and anti-Semitic +organ, Paul would pen day after day those envenomed leaders, goading +on the mob to turn and rend their Jewish fellow-citizens, denying them +the rights of human beings. Paul would direct the flood of sarcasm and +misrepresentation poured forth day after day upon my inoffensive +brethren. The old anguish with which I had read that article a year +ago returned to me; but not the old tempest of wrath. By sheer force +of will I kept myself calm. A great issue was at stake, and I nerved +myself for the contest. + +"Paul," said I, "you are a lucky fellow." I kissed him on the brow +with icy lips. He saw my great emotion, but felt it was but natural. + +"_Da_," said he, "I am a lucky fellow. It is a great thing. Few men +have had such an opportunity at twenty-five." + +"_Nutchozh?_ And how do you propose to utilize it?" I asked. + +"_Och_, I must conduct the paper on the same general lines," he said; +"of course, with improvements." + +"Amongst the latter the omission of the anti-Semitic bias, I hope." + +He stared at me. "Certainly not. The proprietors make its continuance +on the same general lines a condition. They are very good. They even +guard me against possible prosecutions by paying a handsome salary to +a man of straw. _Ish-lui_, it is a fine berth that I've got." + +Should I tell him the thing was impossible--that he was a Jew? No; +time for that when all other means had failed. "_Och_, you have +accepted it?" I said. + +"Of course I have, father. Why should I give them time to change their +minds?" + +"I should have thought you would have consulted me first." + +"_Nu, uzh_, I have never consulted you yet about accepting work," he +said in a wondering, disappointed tone. + +"_Nuka_, but this puts you finally into a career, does it not?" + +"Certainly. That is why I accepted it, and I thought you would be +glad." + +"That is why you should have refused it. But I _am_ glad all the +same." + +"I do not understand you, father." + +"_Nuka_, _golubtchik_, listen," I said in my most endearing tone, +drawing my arm round his neck. "Your struggles for existence were but +struggles for the sake of the struggle. You are not as other young +men. You have succeeded; and the moment you win the prize is the +moment for retiring gracefully, leaving it in the hands of him who +needs it. Your fight was but a game I allowed you to play. You are +rich." + +"Rich?" + +"Rich! Nearly all my life I have been a wealthy man. I own land in +every part of Russia; I hold shares in all the most successful +companies. I have kept this knowledge from you so that you might enjoy +your riches more when you knew the truth." + +"Rich?" He repeated the word again in a dazed tone. "_Ach_, why did I +not know this before?" + +"You had not succeeded. You had not had your experience, my son, my +dearest Paul. But now your work is over, or rather your true work +begins. Freed from the detestable routine of a newspaper office, you +shall write your books and work out your ideas at leisure, and +relieved from all material considerations." + +"_Da_, it would have been a beautiful ideal--once," he said; then +added fiercely: "Rich? And I did not know it." + +"But you were the happier for your ignorance." + +"No, father. The struggle is too terrible. Often have I sat and wept. +_Ish-lui_, time after time my book--destined as it was to +success--came back to me from the publishers. And I could have +produced it myself all along!" + +Pangs of remorse agitated me. Had my plan been, indeed, a failure? +"But you have the pride of unhelped success." + +"And the bitter memories. And once--" He paused. + +"Once?" I said. + +"Once I loved a girl. She is dead now, so it doesn't matter. There +were many and complicated obstacles to our union. With money they +would have been overcome." + +"Poor boy!" I said wonderingly, for I knew nothing of this apparently +new love episode. "Forgive me, my son, if I have acted mistakenly. +Anyhow, from this moment your happiness is my sole care." + +"No," he said, with sudden determination. "It is too late now. You +meant it for the best, _papasha_. But I do not want the money now. I +have money of my own--and glory. Why should I give up what my own +hands have won?" + +"Because I ask it of you, Paul; because I ask you to allow me to make +reparation for the mischief I have done." + +"The truest reparation will be to let things go unrepaired," he said, +with a touch of sarcasm. "I shall be happier as editor of this paper. +What finer medium for my ideas than a great newspaper? What more +potent lever to my hand for raising Holy Russia to a yet higher plane? +No, father. Let bygones be bygones. Give my share of your wealth to a +society for helping struggling talent. I struggle no longer. Leave me +to go on in the path my pen has carved out." + +I fell at his feet and begged him to let me have my way, but some +obstinate demon seemed to have taken possession of his breast. I +opened my desk and showered bank-notes upon him. He spurned them, and +one flew out into the night. Neither of us put out a hand to arrest +its flight. + +I saw that nothing but the truth had any chance to alter his resolve. +But I played one more card before resorting to this dangerous weapon. + +"Listen, my own dearest Paul," I burst out. "If money will not tempt +you, let a father's petition persuade you. Learn, then, that I dread +your taking this position because you will perpetually have to attack +the Jews--" + +"As they deserve," he put in. + +"Be it so. But I--I have a kindness for this oppressed race." + +He looked at me in silence, as if awaiting further explanation. I +gave it, blurting out the shameful lie with ill-concealed confusion. + +"Once upon a time I--I loved a Jewess. I could not marry her, of +course. But ever since that time I have had a soft place in my heart +for her unhappy race." + +A look of surprise flashed into Paul's eyes. Then his face grew +tender. He took my hand in his. + +"Father, we have a common sorrow," he said. "The girl I spoke of was a +Jewess." + +"How?" I exclaimed, surprised in my turn. It was the same affair, +then. + +"Yes, she was a Jewess. But I taught her the truth. Christ was +revealed to her prisoned soul. She would have fled with me if we had +had the means, and if I had been able to support her in some other +country. But she did not dare be baptized and stay in Moscow or +anywhere near. She said her father would have killed her. The only +alternative was for me to embrace Judaism. Impossible as you may think +it, father, and I confess it to my eternal shame, at the very period I +was correcting the proofs of my book, I was wrestling with a +temptation to embrace this Satanic heresy. But I conquered the +temptation. It was easy to conquer. To renounce the faith which was my +blessed birthright would, as you know, have cost me dear. Selfishness +warred for once on the side of salvation. Rachel wished to fly with +me. I knew she would have been poor and unhappy. I refused to take +advantage of her girlish impetuousness. I heard afterward that she had +drowned herself." The tears rained down his cheeks. + +"We had arranged to wait till I could save a stock of money. _Voi_, +the delay undid us. One day Rachel's father called on me. He had got +wind of our secret. He fell at my feet and tore his hair, and wept and +conjured me not to darken his home and his life. A Jewess could only +wed a Jew, he said. If I had only been born a Jew all would have been +well. But his Rachel had, perhaps, talked of becoming a Christian. Did +I not know that was impossible? As well expect the sheep to howl like +the wolf. Blood was thicker than baptismal water. Her heart would +always cleave to her own religion. And was my love so blind as not to +see that even if she spoke of Christianity it was only to please me? +that she only kissed the crucifix that I might kiss her, and knelt to +the Virgin that I might kneel to her? At home, he swore it with +fearful oaths, she was always bitterly sarcastic at the expense of the +true faith. I believed him. My God, I believed him! For at times I had +feared it myself. I would be no party to such carnal blasphemy, and +charged him with a note of farewell. When he went I felt as if I had +escaped from a terrible temptation. I fell on my knees and thanked the +saints." + +"But why did you not tell me this at the time?" I cried in intolerable +anguish. + +"_Nu_; to what end? It would only have worried you. I did not know you +were rich." + +"And at this time you offered to send _me_ money!" I said, with sudden +recollection. + +"Since I had not enough, you might as well have some of it. Anyhow, +father, you see all this has made no difference to me. I shall never +marry now, of course; but it hasn't altered the opinion I have always +had of the Jews--rather corroborated it. Rachel told me enough of the +superstitious slavery amid which she was forced to live. I have no +doubt now that her father lied. But for his pigheaded tribalism, +Rachel would have been alive to-day. So why your love for a Jewish +girl should make you tender to the race I do not see, dearest father. +There are always exceptions to everything--Rachel was one; the woman +you loved was another. And now it is very late; I think I will go to +bed." + +He kissed me and went out at the door. Then he came back and put his +head inside again. A sweet, sad, winning smile lit up his pale, +thoughtful face. + +"I will put you on the free list of the _Novoe Vremia_, father," he +said. "Good-night, _papasha_." + +What could I say? What could I do? I called up a smile to my trembling +lips. + +"Good-night, Paul," I said. + +I shall never tell him now. + +_Tuesday, 3 a.m._--I reopen these pages to note an ironic climax to +this bitter day. Through the excitement of Paul's coming I had not +read my letters. After sitting here in a numb trance for hours, I +suddenly bethought me of them. One is from my business man, informing +me that he has just sold the South American stock, respecting which I +gave him _carte blanche_. I go to bed richer by five thousand roubles. + + * * * * * + +_Odessa, Wednesday Night._--Six months have passed. I am on the free +list of the _Novoe Vremia_. Almost every day brings me a fresh stab as +I read. But I am a "constant reader." It is my penance, and I bear it +as such. After a long silence, I have just had a letter from Nicholas +Alexandrovitch, and I reopen my diary to note it. He is about to marry +a prosperous widow, and is going over to Catholicism. He writes he is +very happy. Lucky, soulless being. He does not know he will be a +richer man when I die. Happily, I am ready, though it were to-day. My +peace is made, I hope, with God and man, though Paul knows nothing +even now. He could not fail to learn it, though, if he came to Odessa +again. I have bribed the spies and the clergy heavily. Thanks to their +silence, I am one of the most prominent Jews of the town, and nobody +dreams of connecting me with the trenchant editor of the _Novoe +Vremia_. I see now that I could have acted so all along, if I had not +been such a coward. But I keep Paul away. It is my last cowardice. In +a postscript Nicholas writes that Paul's articles are causing a great +sensation in the remotest parts of Russia. Alas, I know it. Are there +not anti-Jewish riots in all parts, encouraged by cruel Government +measures? Do not the local newspapers everywhere reproduce Paul's +printed firebrands? Have I not the pleasure of coming across them +again in our own Odessa papers, in the _Wiertnik_ and the _Listok_? I +should not wonder if we had an outbreak here. There was a little +affray yesterday in the _pereouloks_ of the Jewish quarter, though we +are quiet enough down this way.... Great God! What is that noise I +hear?... Yes! it is! it is! "Down with the _Zhits_! Down with the +_Zhits_!" There is red on the horizon. _Bozhe moi!_ It is flame! +_Voi!_ They are pillaging the Jewish quarter. The sun sinks in blood, +as on that unhappy day among the village hills.... _Ach!_ Paul, Paul! +Why did I not stop your murderous pen?... But if not you, another +would have written.... No, that is no excuse.... Forgive me, O God, I +have been weak. Ever weak and cowardly from the day I first deserted +Thee, even unto this day.... I am not worthy of my blood, of my +race.... They are coming this way. It goes through me like a knife. +"Down with the _Zhits_! Down with the _Zhits_!" And now I see them. +They are mad, drunk with the vodka they have stolen from the Jewish +inns. Great God! They have knives and guns. And their leader is +flourishing a newspaper and shouting out something from it. There are +soldiers among them, and sailors, native and foreign, and mad muzhiks. +Where are the police?... The mob is passing under my window. _God pity +me, it is Paul's words they are shouting._... They have passed. No +one thinks of me. Thank God, I am safe. I am safe from these demons. +What a narrow escape!... Ah, God, they have captured Rabbi Isaac and +are dragging him along by his white beard toward the barracks. My +place is by his side. I will rouse my brethren. We are not a few. We +will turn on these dogs and rend them. _Proshchaï_, my loved diary. +Farewell! I go to proclaim the Unity. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] In order to preserve the local colour, the Translator has +occasionally left a word or phrase of the MS. in the original Russian. + +[2] Dissenters. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +X + +"INCURABLE" + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +X + +"INCURABLE" + + "_Cast off among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave. + Whom Thou rememberest no more, and they are cut off from Thy + hand. Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in dark places, in + the deeps. Thy wrath lieth hard upon me and Thou hast afflicted + me with all Thy waves. Thou hast put mine acquaintance far from + me; Thou hast made me an abomination unto them; I am shut up and + I cannot come forth. Mine eye wasteth away by reason of + affliction. I have called daily upon Thee, O Lord, I have spread + forth my hands unto Thee._"--Eighty-eighth Psalm. + + +There was a restless air about the Refuge. In a few minutes the +friends of the patients would be admitted. The Incurables would hear +the latest gossip of the Ghetto, for the world was still very much +with these abortive lives, avid of sensations, Jewish to the end. It +was an unpretentious institution--two corner houses knocked +together--near the east lung of London; supported mainly by the poor +at a penny a week, and scarcely recognized by the rich; so that +paraplegia and vertigo and rachitis and a dozen other hopeless +diseases knocked hopelessly at its narrow portals. But it was a model +institution all the same, and the patients lacked for nothing except +freedom from pain. There was even a miniature synagogue for their +spiritual needs, with the women's compartment religiously railed off +from the men's, as if these grotesque ruins of sex might still +distract each other's devotions. + +Yet the Rabbis knew human nature. The sprightly, hydrocephalous, +paralytic Leah had had the chair she inhabited carried down into the +men's sitting-room to beguile the moments, and was smiling +fascinatingly upon the deaf blind man, who had the Braille Bible at +his fingers' ends, and read on as stolidly as St. Anthony. Mad Mo had +strolled vacuously into the ladies' ward, and, indifferent to the +pretty white-aproned Christian nurses, was loitering by the side of a +weird, hatchet-faced cripple with a stiletto-shaped nose supporting +big spectacles. Like most of the patients she was up and dressed; only +a few of the white pallets ranged along the walls were occupied. + +"Leah says she'd be quite happy if she could walk like you," said Mad +Mo in complimentary tones. "She always says Milly walks so beautiful. +She says you can walk the whole length of the garden." Milly, huddled +in her chair, smiled miserably. + +"You're crying again, Rebecca," protested a dark-eyed, bright-faced +dwarf in excellent English, as she touched her friend's withered hand. +"You are in the blues again. Why, that page is all blistered." + +"No--I feel so nice," said the sad-eyed Russian in her quaint musical +accent. "You sall not tink I cry because I am not happy. Ven I read +sad tings--like my life--den only I am happy." + +The dwarf gave a short laugh that made her pendent earrings oscillate. +"I thought you were brooding over your love affairs," she said. + +"Me!" cried Rebecca. "I lost too young my leg to be in love. No, it is +Psalm eighty-eight dat I brood over. 'I am afflicted and ready to die +from my yout' up.' Yes, I vas only a girl ven I had to go to +Königsberg to find a doctor to cut off my leg. 'Lover and friend hast +dou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness!'" + +Her face shone ecstatic. + +"Hush!" whispered the dwarf, with a warning nudge and a slight nod in +the direction of a neighbouring waterbed on which a pale, rigid, +middle-aged woman lay, with shut sleepless eyes. + +"Se cannot understand Englis'," said the Russian girl proudly. + +"Don't be so sure, look how the nurses here have picked up Yiddish!" + +Rebecca shook her head incredulously. "Sarah is a Polis' woman," she +said. "For years dey are in England and dey learn noting." + +"_Ick bin krank! Krank! Krank!_" suddenly moaned a shrivelled Polish +grandmother--an advanced centenarian--as if to corroborate the girl's +contention. She was squatting monkey-like on her bed, every now and +again murmuring her querulous burden of sickness, and jabbering at +the nurses to shut all the windows. Fresh air she objected to as +vehemently as if it were butter or some other heterodox dainty. + +Hard upon her crooning came bloodcurdling screams from the room above, +sounds that reminded the visitor he was not in a "Barnum" show, that +the monstrosities were genuine. Pretty Sister Margaret--not yet +indurated--thrilled with pity, as before her inner vision rose the +ashen perspiring face of the palsied sufferer, who sat quivering all +the long day in an easy-chair, her swollen jelly-like hands resting on +cotton-wool pads, an air-pillow between her knees, her whole frame +racked at frequent intervals by fierce spasms of pain, her only +diversion faint blurred reflections of episodes of the street in the +glass of a framed picture; yet morbidly suspicious of slow poison in +her drink, and cursed with an incurable vitality. + +Meantime Sarah lay silent, bitter thoughts moving beneath her white, +impassive face like salt tides below a frozen surface. It was a +strong, stern face, telling of a present of pain, and faintly hinting +at a past of prettiness. She seemed alone in the populated ward, and +indeed the world was bare for her. Most of her life had been spent in +the Warsaw Ghetto, where she was married at sixteen, nineteen years +before. Her only surviving son--a youth whom the English atmosphere +had not improved--had sailed away to trade with the Kaffirs. And her +husband had not been to see her for a fortnight! + +When the visitors began to arrive, her torpor vanished. She eagerly +raised the half of her that was not paralyzed, partially sitting up. +But gradually expectation died out of her large gray eyes. There was a +buzz of talk in the room--the hydrocephalous girl was the gay centre +of a group; the Polish grandmother who cursed her grandchildren when +they didn't come and when they did, was denouncing their neglect of +her to their faces; everybody had somebody to kiss or quarrel with. +One or two acquaintances approached the bed-ridden wife, too, but she +would speak no word, too proud to ask after her husband, and wincing +under the significant glances occasionally cast in her direction. By +and by she had the red screen placed round her bed, which gave her +artificial walls and a quasi-privacy. Her husband would know where to +look for her-- + +"Woe is me!" wailed her centenarian country-woman, rocking to and fro. +"What sin have I committed to get such grandchildren? You only come to +see if the old grandmother isn't dead yet. So sick! So sick! So sick!" + +Twilight filled the wards. The white beds looked ghostly in the +darkness. The last visitor departed. Sarah's husband had not yet come. + +"He is not well, Mrs. Kretznow," Sister Margaret ventured to say in +her best Yiddish. "Or he is busy working. Work is not so slack any +more." Alone in the institution she shared Sarah's ignorance of the +Kretznow scandal. Talk of it died before her youth and sweetness. + +"He would have written," said Sarah sternly. "He is awearied of me. I +have lain here a year. Job's curse is on me." + +"Shall I to him"--Sister Margaret paused to excogitate the Yiddish +word--"write?" + +"No! He hears me knocking at his heart." + +They had flashes of strange savage poetry, these crude yet complex +souls. Sister Margaret, who was still liable to be startled, murmured +feebly, "But--" + +"Leave me in peace!" with a cry like that of a wounded animal. + +The matron gently touched the novice's arm and drew her away. "_I_ +will write to him," she whispered. + +Night fell, but sleep fell only for some. Sarah Kretznow tossed in a +hell of loneliness. Ah, surely her husband had not forgotten +her--surely she would not lie thus till death--that far-off death her +strong religious instinct would forbid her hastening! She had gone +into the Refuge to save him the constant sight of her helplessness and +the cost of her keep. Was she now to be cut off forever from the sight +of his strength? + +The next day he came--by special invitation. His face was sallow, +rimmed with swarthy hair; his under lip was sensuous. He hung his +head, half veiling the shifty eyes. + +Sister Margaret ran to tell his wife. Sarah's face sparkled. + +"Put up the screen!" she murmured, and in its shelter drew her +husband's head to her bosom and pressed her lips to his hair. + +But he, surprised into indiscretion, murmured: "I thought thou wast +dying." + +A beautiful light came into the gray eyes. + +"Thy heart told thee right, Herzel, my life. I _was_ dying--for a +sight of thee." + +"But the matron wrote to me pressingly," he blurted out. He felt her +breast heave convulsively under his face; with her hands she thrust +him away. + +"God's fool that I am--I should have known; to-day is not visiting +day. They have compassion on me--they see my sorrows--it is public +talk." + +His pulse seemed to stop. "They have talked to thee of me," he +faltered. + +"I did not ask their pity. But they saw how I suffered--one cannot +hide one's heart." + +"They have no right to talk," he muttered in sulky trepidation. + +"They have every right," she rejoined sharply. "If thou hadst come to +see me even once--why hast thou not?" + +"I--I--have been travelling in the country with cheap jewellery. The +tailoring is so slack." + +"Look me in the eyes! Law of Moses? No, it is a lie. God shall forgive +thee. Why hast thou not come?" + +"I have told thee." + +"Tell that to the Sabbath Fire-Woman! Why hast thou not come? Is it so +very much to spare me an hour or two a week? If I could go out like +some of the patients, I would come to thee. But I have tired thee out +utterly--" + +"No, no, Sarah," he murmured uneasily. + +"Then why--?" + +He was covered with shame and confusion. His face was turned away. "I +did not like to come," he said desperately. + +"Why not?" Crimson patches came and went on her white cheeks; her +heart beat madly. + +"Surely thou canst understand!" + +"Understand what? I speak of green and thou answerest of blue!" + +"I answer as thou askest." + +"Thou answerest not at all." + +"No answer is also an answer," he snarled, driven to bay. "Thou +understandest well enough. Thyself saidst it was public talk." + +"Ah--h--h!" in a stifled shriek of despair. Her intuition divined +everything. The shadowy, sinister suggestions she had so long beat +back by force of will took form and substance. Her head fell back on +the pillow, the eyes closed. + +He stayed on, bending awkwardly over her. + +"So sick! So sick! So sick!" moaned the wizened grandmother. + +"Thou sayest they have compassion on thee in their talk," he murmured +at last, half deprecatingly, half resentfully; "have they none on me?" + +Her silence chilled him. "But _thou_ hast compassion, Sarah," he +urged. "_Thou_ understandest." + +Presently she reopened her eyes. + +"Thou art not gone?" she murmured. + +"No--thou seest I am not tired of thee, Sarah, my life! Only--" + +"Wilt thou wash my skin, and not make me wet?" she interrupted +bitterly. "Go home. Go home to her!" + +"I will not go home." + +"Then go under like Korah." + +He shuffled out. That night her lonely hell was made lonelier by the +opening of a peep-hole into Paradise--a paradise of Adam and Eve and +forbidden fruit. For days she preserved a stony silence toward the +sympathy of the inmates. Of what avail words against the flames of +jealousy in which she writhed? + +He lingered about the passage on the next visiting day, vaguely +remorseful, but she would not see him. So he went away, vaguely +indignant, and his new housemate comforted him, and he came no more. + +When you lie on your back all day and all night you have time to +think, especially if you do not sleep. A situation presents itself in +many lights from dawn to dusk and from dusk to dawn. One such light +flashed on the paradise, and showed it to her as but the portico of +purgatory. Her husband would be damned in the next world, even as she +was in this. His soul would be cut off from among its people. + +On this thought she brooded till it loomed horribly in her darkness. +And at last she dictated a letter to the matron, asking Herzel to come +and see her. + +He obeyed, and stood shame-faced at her side, fidgeting with his +peaked cap. Her hard face softened momentarily at the sight of him, +her bosom heaved, suppressed sobs swelled her throat. + +"Thou hast sent for me?" he murmured. + +"Yes--perhaps thou didst again imagine I was on my death-bed!" she +replied, with bitter irony. + +"It is not so, Sarah. I would have come of myself--only thou wouldst +not see my face." + +"I have seen it for twenty years--it is another's turn now." + +He was silent. + +"It is true all the same--I am on my death-bed." + +He started. A pang shot through his breast. He darted an agitated +glance at her face. + +"Is it not so? In this bed I shall die. But God knows how many years I +shall lie in it." + +Her calm gave him an uncanny shudder. + +"And till the Holy One, blessed be He, takes me, thou wilt live a +daily sinner." + +"I am not to blame. God has stricken me. I am a young man." + +"Thou art to blame!" Her eyes flashed fire. "Blasphemer! Life is sweet +to thee--yet perchance thou wilt die before me." + +His face grew livid. "I am a young man," he repeated tremulously. + +"Dost thou forget what Rabbi Eliezer said? 'Repent one day before thy +death'--that is to-day, for who knows?" + +"What wouldst thou have me do?" + +"Give up--" + +"No, no," he interrupted. "It is useless. I cannot. I am so lonely." + +"Give up," she repeated inexorably, "thy wife." + +"What sayest thou? My wife! But she is not my wife. Thou art my wife." + +"Even so. Give me up. Give me _Get_ (divorce)." + +His breath failed, his heart thumped at the suggestion. + +"Give thee _Get_!" he whispered. + +"Yes. Why didst thou not send me a bill of divorcement when I left thy +home for this?" + +He averted his face. "I thought of it," he stammered. "And then--" + +"And then?" He seemed to see a sardonic glitter in the gray eyes. + +"I--I was afraid." + +"Afraid!" She laughed in grim mirthlessness. "Afraid of a bed-ridden +woman!" + +"I was afraid it would make thee unhappy." The sardonic gleam melted +into softness, then became more terrible than before. + +"And so thou hast made me happy instead!" + +"Stab me not more than I merit. I did not think people would be cruel +enough to tell thee." + +"Thine own lips told me." + +"Nay--by my soul," he cried, startled. + +"Thine eyes told me, then." + +"I feared so," he said, turning them away. "When she came into my +house, I--I dared not go to see thee--that was why I did not come, +though I always meant to, Sarah, my life. I feared to look thee in the +eyes. I foresaw they would read the secret in mine--so I was afraid." + +"Afraid!" she repeated bitterly. "Afraid I would scratch them out! +Nay, they are good eyes. Have they not seen my heart? For twenty years +they have been my light.... Those eyes and mine have seen our children +die." + +Spasmodic sobs came thickly now. Swallowing them down, she said, "And +she--did she not ask thee to give me _Get_?" + +"Nay, she was willing to go without. She said thou wast as one +dead--look not thus at me. It is the will of God. It was for thy sake, +too, Sarah, that she did not become my wife by law. She, too, would +have spared thee the knowledge of her." + +"Yes; ye have both tender hearts! She is a mother in Israel, and thou +art a spark of our father Abraham." + +"Thou dost not believe what I say?" + +"I can disbelieve it, and still remain a Jewess." + +Then, satire boiling over into passion, she cried vehemently, "We are +threshing empty ears. Thinkest thou I am not aware of the +Judgments--I, the granddaughter of Reb Shloumi (the memory of the +righteous for a blessing)? Thinkest thou I am ignorant thou couldst +not obtain a _Get_ against me--me who have borne thee children, who +have wrought no evil? I speak not of the _Beth-Din_, for in this +impious country they are loath to follow the Judgments, and from the +English _Beth-Din_ thou wouldst find it impossible to obtain the _Get_ +in any case, even though thou didst not marry me in this country, nor +according to its laws. I speak of our own _Rabbonim_--thou knowest +even the Maggid would not give thee _Get_ merely because thy wife is +bed-ridden. That--that is what thou wast afraid of." + +"But if thou art willing,--" he replied eagerly, ignoring her scornful +scepticism. + +His readiness to accept the sacrifice was salt upon her wounds. + +"Thou deservest I should let thee burn in the lowest Gehenna," she +cried. + +"The Almighty is more merciful than thou," he answered. "It is He that +hath ordained it is not good for man to live alone. And yet men shun +me--people talk--and she--she may leave me to my loneliness again." +His voice faltered with self-pity. "Here thou hast friends, nurses, +visitors. I--I have nothing. True, thou didst bear me children, but +they withered as by the evil eye. My only son is across the ocean; he +hath no love for me or thee." + +The recital of their common griefs softened her toward him. + +"Go!" she whispered. "Go and send me the _Get_. Go to the Maggid, he +knew my grandfather. He is the man to arrange it for thee with his +friends. Tell him it is my wish." + +"God shall reward thee. How can I thank thee for giving thy consent?" + +"What else have I to give thee, my Herzel, I who eat the bread of +strangers? Truly says the Proverb, 'When one begs of a beggar the Herr +God laughs!'" + +"I will send thee the _Get_ as soon as possible." + +"Thou art right, I am a thorn in thine eye. Pluck me out quickly." + +"Thou wilt not refuse the _Get_, when it comes?" he replied +apprehensively. + +"Is it not a wife's duty to submit?" she asked with grim irony. "Nay, +have no fear. Thou shalt have no difficulty in serving the _Get_ upon +me. I will not throw it in the messenger's face.... And thou wilt +marry her?" + +"Assuredly. People will no longer talk. And she must needs bide with +me. It is my one desire." + +"It is mine likewise. Thou must atone and save thy soul." + +He lingered uncertainly. + +"And thy dowry?" he said at last. "Thou wilt not make claim for +compensation?" + +"Be easy--I scarce know where my _Cesubah_ (marriage certificate) is. +What need have I of money? As thou sayest, I have all I want. I do not +even desire to purchase a grave--lying already so long in a +charity-grave. The bitterness is over." + +He shivered. "Thou art very good to me," he said. "Good-bye." + +He stooped down--she drew the bedclothes frenziedly over her face. + +"Kiss me not!" + +"Good-bye, then," he stammered. "God be good to thee!" He moved away. + +"Herzel!" She had uncovered her face with a despairing cry. He +slouched back toward her, perturbed, dreading she would retract. + +"Do not send it--bring it thyself. Let me take it from thy hand." + +A lump rose in his throat. "I will bring it," he said brokenly. + +The long days of pain grew longer--the summer was coming, harbingered +by sunny days that flooded the wards with golden mockery. The evening +Herzel brought the _Get_, Sarah could have read every word on the +parchment plainly, if her eyes had not been blinded by tears. + +She put out her hand toward her husband, groping for the document he +bore. He placed it in her burning palm. The fingers closed +automatically upon it, then relaxed, and the paper fluttered to the +floor. But Sarah was no longer a wife. + +Herzel was glad to hide his burning face by stooping for the fallen +bill of divorcement. He was long picking it up. When his eyes met hers +again, she had propped herself up in her bed. Two big round tears +trickled down her cheeks, but she received the parchment calmly and +thrust it into her bosom. + +"Let it lie there," she said stonily, "there where thy head hath lain. +Blessed be the true Judge." + +"Thou art not angry with me, Sarah?" + +"Why should I be angry? She was right--I am but a dead woman. Only no +one may say _Kaddish_ for me, no one may pray for the repose of my +soul. I am not angry, Herzel. A wife should light the Sabbath candles, +and throw in the fire the morsel of dough. But thy home was desolate, +there was none to do these things. Here I have all I need. Now thou +wilt be happy, too." + +"Thou hast been a good wife, Sarah," he murmured, touched. + +"Recall not the past; we are strangers now," she said, with recurrent +harshness. + +"But I may come and see thee--sometimes." He had stirrings of remorse +as the moment of final parting came. + +"Wouldst thou reopen my wounds?" + +"Farewell, then." + +He put out his hand timidly; she seized it and held it passionately. + +"Yes, yes, Herzel! Do not leave me! Come and see me here--as a friend, +an acquaintance, a man I used to know. The others are thoughtless--they +forget me--I shall lie here--perhaps the Angel of Death will forget me, +too." Her grasp tightened till it hurt him acutely. + +"Yes, I will come--I will come often," he said, with a sob of physical +pain. + +Her clasp loosened, she dropped his hand. + +"But not till thou art married," she said. + +"Be it so." + +"Of course thou must have a 'still wedding.' The English synagogue +will not marry thee." + +"The Maggid will marry me." + +"Thou wilt show me her _Cesubah_ when thou comest next?" + +"Yes--I will contrive to get it from her." + +A week passed--he brought the marriage certificate. + +Outwardly she was calm. She glanced through it. "God be thanked," she +said, and handed it back. They chatted of indifferent things, of the +doings of the neighbours. When he was going, she said, "Thou wilt come +again?" + +"Yes, I will come again." + +"Thou art so good to spend thy time on me thus. But thy wife--will she +not be jealous?" + +He stared, bewildered by her strange, eerie moments. + +"Jealous of thee?" he murmured. + +She took it in its contemptuous sense and her white lips twitched. But +she only said, "Is she aware thou hast come here?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Do I know? I have not told her." + +"Tell her." + +"As thou wishest." + +There was a pause. Presently the woman spoke. + +"Wilt thou not bring her to see me? Then she will know that thou hast +no love left for me--" + +He flinched as at a stab. After a painful moment he said: "Art thou in +earnest?" + +"I am no marriage-jester. Bring her to me--will she not come to see an +invalid? It is a _mitzvah_ (good deed) to visit the sick. It will wipe +out her trespass." + +"She shall come." + +She came. Sarah stared at her for an instant with poignant curiosity, +then her eyelids drooped to shut out the dazzle of her youth and +freshness. Herzel's wife moved awkwardly and sheepishly. But she was +beautiful--a buxom, comely country girl from a Russian village, with a +swelling bust and a cheek rosy with health and confusion. + +Sarah's breast was racked by a thousand needles. But she found breath +at last. + +"God bless--thee, Mrs.--Kretznow," she said gaspingly. + +She took the girl's hand. + +"How good thou art to come and see a sick creature." + +"My husband willed it," the new wife said in deprecation. She had a +simple, stupid air that did not seem wholly due to the constraint of +the strange situation. + +"Thou wast right to obey. Be good to him, my child. For three years he +waited on me, when I lay helpless. He has suffered much. Be good to +him!" + +With an impulsive movement she drew the girl's head down to her and +kissed her on the lips. Then with an anguished cry of "Leave me for +to-day," she jerked the blanket over her face and burst into tears. +She heard the couple move hesitatingly away. The girl's beauty shone +on her through the opaque coverings. + +"O God!" she wailed. "God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, let me die +now. For the merits of the Patriarchs take me soon, take me soon." + +Her vain passionate prayer, muffled by the bedclothes, was wholly +drowned by ear-piercing shrieks from the ward above--screams of agony +mingled with half-articulate accusations of attempted poisoning--the +familiar paroxysm of the palsied woman who clung to life. + +The thrill passed again through Sister Margaret. She uplifted her +sweet humid eyes. + +"Ah, Christ!" she whispered. "If I could die for her!" + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +XI + +THE SABBATH-BREAKER + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +XI + +THE SABBATH-BREAKER + + +The moment came near for the Polish centenarian grandmother to die. +From the doctor's statement it appeared she had only a bad quarter of +an hour to live. Her attack had been sudden, and the grandchildren she +loved to scold could not be present. + +She had already battled through the great wave of pain, and was +drifting beyond the boundaries of her earthly Refuge. The nurses, +forgetting the trouble her querulousness and her overweening dietary +scruples had cost them, hung over the bed on which the shrivelled +entity lay. They did not know she was living again through the one +great episode of her life. + +Nearly forty years back, when (though already hard upon seventy and a +widow) a Polish village was all her horizon, she received a letter. It +arrived on the eve of Sabbath on a day of rainy summer. It was from +her little boy--her only boy--who kept a country inn seven-and-thirty +miles away, and had a family. She opened the letter with feverish +anxiety. Her son--her _Kaddish_--was the apple of her eye. The old +woman eagerly perused the Hebrew script, from right to left. Then +weakness overcame her and she nearly fell. + +Embedded casually enough in the four pages was a passage that stood +out for her in letters of blood. "I am not feeling very well lately; +the weather is so oppressive and the nights are misty. But it is +nothing serious; my digestion is a little out of order, that's all." +There were roubles for her in the letter, but she let them fall to the +floor unheeded. Panic fear, travelling quicker than the tardy post of +those days, had brought rumour of a sudden outbreak of cholera in her +son's district. Already alarm for her boy had surged about her heart +all day; the letter confirmed her worst apprehensions. Even if the +first touch of the cholera-fiend was not actually on him when he +wrote, still he was by his own confession in that condition in which +the disease takes easiest grip. By this time he was on a bed of +sickness--nay, perhaps on his death-bed, if not dead. Even in those +days the little grandmother had lived beyond the common span; she had +seen many people die, and knew that the Angel of Death does not always +go about his work leisurely. In an epidemic his hands are too full to +enable him to devote much attention to each case. Maternal instinct +tugged at her heart-strings, drawing her toward her boy. The end of +the letter seemed impregnated with special omen--"Come and see me +soon, dear little mother. I shall be unable to get to see you for +some time." Yes, she must go at once--who knew but that it would be +the last time she would look upon his face? + +But then came a terrible thought to give her pause. The Sabbath was +just "in"--a moment ago. Driving, riding, or any manner of journeying +was prohibited during the next twenty-four hours. Frantically she +reviewed the situation. Religion permitted the violation of the +Sabbath on one condition--if life was to be saved. By no stretch of +logic could she delude herself into the belief her son's recovery +hinged upon her presence--nay, analyzing the case with the cruel +remorselessness of a scrupulous conscience, she saw his very illness +was only a plausible hypothesis. No; to go to him now were beyond +question to profane the Sabbath. + +And yet beneath all the reasoning, her conviction that he was sick +unto death, her resolve to set out at once, never wavered. After an +agonizing struggle she compromised. She could not go by cart--that +would be to make others work into the bargain, and would moreover +involve a financial transaction. She must walk! Sinful as it was to +transgress the limit of two thousand yards beyond her village--the +distance fixed by Rabbinical law--there was no help for it. And of all +the forms of travelling, walking was surely the least sinful. The Holy +One, blessed be He, would know she did not mean to work; perhaps in +His mercy He would make allowance for an old woman who had never +profaned His rest-day before. + +And so, that very evening, having made a hasty meal, and lodged the +precious letter in her bosom, the little grandmother girded up her +loins to walk the seven-and-thirty miles. No staff took she with her, +for to carry such came under the Talmudical definition of work. +Neither could she carry an umbrella, though it was a season of rain. +Mile after mile she strode briskly on, toward that pallid face that +lay so far beyond the horizon, and yet ever shone before her eyes like +a guiding star. "I am coming, my lamb," she muttered. "The little +mother is on the way." + +It was a muggy night. The sky, flushed with a weird, hectic glamour, +seemed to hang over the earth like a pall. The trees that lined the +roadway were shrouded in a draggling vapour. At midnight the mist +blotted out the stars. But the little grandmother knew the road ran +straight. All night she walked through the forest, fearless as Una, +meeting neither man nor beast, though the wolf and the bear haunted +its recesses, and snakes lurked in the bushes. But only the innocent +squirrels darted across her path. The morning found her spent, and +almost lame. But she walked on. Almost half the journey was yet to do. + +She had nothing to eat with her; food, too, was an illegal burden, nor +could she buy any on the holy day. She said her Sabbath morning prayer +walking, hoping God would forgive the disrespect. The recital gave her +partial oblivion of her pains. As she passed through a village the +dreadful rumour of cholera was confirmed; it gave wings to her feet for +ten minutes, then bodily weakness was stronger than everything else, +and she had to lean against the hedges on the outskirts of the village. +It was nearly noon. A passing beggar gave her a piece of bread. +Fortunately it was unbuttered, so she could eat it with only minor +qualms lest it had touched any unclean thing. She resumed her journey, +but the rest had only made her feet move more painfully and +reluctantly. She would have liked to bathe them in a brook, but that, +too, was forbidden. She took the letter from her bosom and reperused +it, and whipped up her flagging strength with a cry of "Courage, my +lamb! the little mother is on the way." Then the leaden clouds melted +into sharp lines of rain, which beat into her face, refreshing her for +the first few moments, but soon wetting her to the skin, making her +sopped garments a heavier burden, and reducing the pathway to mud, that +clogged still further her feeble footsteps. In the teeth of the wind +and the driving shower she limped on. A fresh anxiety consumed her +now--would she have strength to hold out? Every moment her pace +lessened, she was moving like a snail. And the slower she went the more +vivid grew her prescience of what awaited her at the journey's end. +Would she even hear his dying word? Perhaps--terrible thought!--she +would only be in time to look upon his dead face! Mayhap that was how +God would punish her for her desecration of the holy day. "Take heart, +my lamb!" she wailed. "Do not die yet. The little mother comes." + +The rain stopped. The sun came out, hot and fierce, and dried her +hands and face, then made them stream again with perspiration. Every +inch won was torture now, but the brave feet toiled on. Bruised and +swollen and crippled, they toiled on. There was a dying voice--very +far off yet, alas!--that called to her, and as she dragged herself +along, she replied: "I am coming, my lamb. Take heart! the little +mother is on the way. Courage! I shall look upon thy face, I shall +find thee alive." + +Once a wagoner observed her plight and offered her a lift, but she +shook her head steadfastly. The endless afternoon wore on--she crawled +along the forest-way, stumbling every now and then from sheer +faintness, and tearing her hands and face in the brambles of the +roadside. At last the cruel sun waned, and reeking mists rose from the +forest pools. And still the long miles stretched away, and still she +plodded on, torpid from over-exhaustion, scarcely conscious, and +taking each step only because she had taken the preceding. From time +to time her lips mumbled: "Take heart, my lamb! I am coming." The +Sabbath was "out" ere, broken and bleeding, and all but swooning, the +little grandmother crawled up to her son's inn, on the border of the +forest. Her heart was cold with fatal foreboding. There was none of +the usual Saturday night litter of Polish peasantry about the door. +The sound of many voices weirdly intoning a Hebrew hymn floated out +into the night. A man in a caftan opened the door, and mechanically +raised his forefinger to bid her enter without noise. The little +grandmother saw into the room behind. Her daughter-in-law and her +grandchildren were seated on the floor--the seat of mourners. + +"Blessed be the true Judge!" she said, and rent the skirt of her +dress. "When did he die?" + +"Yesterday. We had to bury him hastily ere the Sabbath came in." + +The little, grandmother lifted up her quavering voice, and joined the +hymn, "I will sing a new song unto Thee, O God; upon a harp of ten +strings will I sing praises unto Thee." + + * * * * * + +The nurses could not understand what sudden inflow of strength and +impulse raised the mummified figure into a sitting posture. The little +grandmother thrust a shrivelled claw into her peaked, shrunken bosom, +and drew out a paper, crumpled and yellow as herself, covered with +strange crabbed hieroglyphics, whose hue had long since faded. She +held it close to her bleared eyes--a beautiful light came into them, +and illumined the million-puckered face. The lips moved faintly; "I am +coming, my lamb," she mumbled. "Courage! The little mother is on the +way. I shall look on thy face. I shall find thee alive." + + + + +Printed in the United States of America. + + + * * * * * + + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + | Typographical errors corrected in text: | + | | + | Page 421: stanchness is a legitimate spelling variant | + | of staunchness | + | | + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ghetto Tragedies, by Israel Zangwill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GHETTO TRAGEDIES *** + +***** This file should be named 35076-8.txt or 35076-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/0/7/35076/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/35076-8.zip b/35076-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8aa748 --- /dev/null +++ b/35076-8.zip diff --git a/35076-h.zip b/35076-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..64c2935 --- /dev/null +++ b/35076-h.zip diff --git a/35076-h/35076-h.htm b/35076-h/35076-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..79dedde --- /dev/null +++ b/35076-h/35076-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,13751 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ghetto Tragedies, by I. Zangwill. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + p { margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + h1 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h5,h6 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h2 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h3 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + h4 { + text-align: center; font-family: garamond, serif; /* all headings centered */ + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + a {text-decoration: none} /* no lines under links */ + hr.wide {margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; width: 25%; color: black;} + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + ul {list-style-type: none} /* no bullets on lists */ + ul.nest {margin-top: .15em; margin-bottom: .15em; text-indent: -1.5em;} /* spacing for nested list */ + li {margin-top: .15em; margin-bottom: .15em;} /* spacing for list */ + + .cen {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} /* centering paragraphs */ + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} /* small caps */ + .fakesc {font-size: 80%;} /* fake small caps, small font size */ + .noin {text-indent: 0em;} /* no indenting */ + .hang {text-indent: -2em;} /* hanging indents */ + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* footnote */ + .block {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} /* block indent */ + .block2 {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} /* block indent */ + .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} /* right aligning paragraphs */ + .totoc {position: absolute; right: 2%; font-size: 75%; text-align: right;} /* Table of contents anchor */ + .totoi {position: absolute; right: 2%; font-size: 75%; text-align: right;} /* to Table of Illustrations link */ + .img {text-align: center; padding: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} /* centering images */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1em; padding-left: 1em; font-size: smaller; float: right; clear: right;} + .tdr {text-align: right;} /* right align cell */ + .tdc {text-align: center;} /* center align cell */ + .tdlp {text-align: left; padding-left: 10%;} /* center align cell */ + .tdl {text-align: left;} /* left align cell */ + .tdlsc {text-align: left; font-variant: small-caps;} /* aligning cell content and small caps */ + .tdrsc {text-align: right; font-variant: small-caps;} /* aligning cell content and small caps */ + .tdcsc {text-align: center; font-variant: small-caps;} /* aligning cell content and small caps */ + .tr {margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 1em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} /* transcriber's notes */ + + .bb {border-bottom: solid black 1px;} + .bl {border-left: solid black 1px;} + .bt {border-top: solid black 1px;} + .br {border-right: solid black 1px;} + .bbox {border: solid black 1px;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; right: 2%; + font-size: 75%; + color: gray; + background-color: inherit; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0em; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal;} /* page numbers */ + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 90%;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right; font-size: 90%;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: text-top; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 15%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + .poem span.pn { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; right: 2%; + font-size: 75%; + text-align: right; + text-indent: 0em; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + color: silver; background-color: inherit; + font-variant: normal;} /* page numbers in poems */ + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ghetto Tragedies, by Israel Zangwill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ghetto Tragedies + +Author: Israel Zangwill + +Release Date: January 26, 2011 [EBook #35076] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GHETTO TRAGEDIES *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen" style="font-weight: bold;">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<br /> +<p class="noin">Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has been preserved.</p> +<p class="noin" style="text-align: left;">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. +For a complete list, please see the <span style="white-space: nowrap;"><a href="#TN">end of this document</a>.</span></p> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>GHETTO TRAGEDIES</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>The MM Co.</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<h1>Ghetto Tragedies</h1> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>I. ZANGWILL</h2> +<h4>AUTHOR OF "CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO,"<br /> +"THE KING OF SCHNORRERS," ETC.</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4 class="sc">Philadelphia<br /> +The Jewish Publication Society of America</h4> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + + +<h4 class="sc">Copyright, 1899,<br /> +By I. ZANGWILL</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h5>Norwood Press<br /> +J.S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith<br /> +Norwood Mass. U.S.A.</h5> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>PREFACE</h3> +<br /> + +<p>The "Ghetto Tragedies" collected in a little volume in 1893 have been +so submerged in the present collection that I have relegated the +original name to the sub-title. "Satan Mekatrig" was written in 1889, +"Bethulah" this year. Anyone who should wish to measure the progress +or decay of my imagination during the ten years has therefore +materials to hand. "Noah's Ark" stands on the firmer Ararat of +history, my invention being confined to the figure of Peloni (the +Hebrew for "nobody"). The other stories have also a basis in life. But +neither in pathos nor heroic stimulation can they vie with the literal +tragedy with which the whole book is in a sense involved. Mrs. N.S. +Joseph, the great-hearted lady to whom "Ghetto Tragedies" was +inscribed, herself walked in darkness, yet was not dismayed: in the +prime of life she went down into the valley of the shadow, with no +word save of consideration for others. I trust the new stories would +not have been disapproved by my friend, to whose memory they must now, +alas! be dedicated.</p> + +<p class="right">I.Z.</p> + +<p class="sc">October, 1899.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span><br /> +<a name="toc" id="toc"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<br /> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="60%" summary="Table of Contents"> + <tr> + <td width="70%"> </td> + <td class="tdr" width="30%"><span style="font-size: 80%;">PAGE</span></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">I</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#I">"They that Walk in Darkness"</a></td> + <td class="tdr">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">II</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#II">Transitional</a></td> + <td class="tdr">41</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">III</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#III">Noah's Ark</a></td> + <td class="tdr">79</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">IV</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#IV">The Land of Promise</a></td> + <td class="tdr">127</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">V</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#V">To Die in Jerusalem</a></td> + <td class="tdr">159</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">VI</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#VI">Bethulah</a></td> + <td class="tdr">185</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">VII</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#VII">The Keeper of Conscience</a></td> + <td class="tdr">249</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">VIII</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#VIII">Satan Mekatrig</a></td> + <td class="tdr">345</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span>IX</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#IX">Diary of a Meshumad</a></td> + <td class="tdr">403</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">X</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#X">Incurable</a></td> + <td class="tdr">457</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlp">XI</td> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdlsc"><a href="#XI">The Sabbath-breaker</a></td> + <td class="tdr">479</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>I</h2> + +<h2>"THEY THAT WALK IN DARKNESS"</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="I" id="I"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<h3>"THEY THAT WALK IN DARKNESS"</h3> +<br /> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>It was not till she had fasted every Monday and Thursday for a +twelvemonth, that Zillah's long yearning for a child was gratified. +She gave birth—O more than fair-dealing God!—to a boy.</p> + +<p>Jossel, who had years ago abandoned the hope of an heir to pray for +his soul, was as delighted as he was astonished. His wife had kept him +in ignorance of the fasts by which she was appealing to Heaven; and +when of a Monday or Thursday evening on his return from his boot +factory in Bethnal Green, he had sat down to his dinner in Dalston, no +suspicion had crossed his mind that it was Zillah's breakfast. He +himself was a prosaic person, incapable of imagining such +spontaneities of religion, though he kept every fast which it behoves +an orthodox Jew to endure who makes no speciality of sainthood. There +was a touch of the fantastic in Zillah's character which he had only +appreciated in its manifestation as girlish liveliness, and which +Zillah knew would find no response from him in its religious +expression.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>Not that her spiritual innovations were original inventions. From some +pious old crone, after whom (as she could read Hebrew) a cluster of +neighbouring dames repeated what they could catch of the New Year +prayers in the women's synagogue, Zillah had learnt that certain holy +men were accustomed to afflict their souls on Mondays and Thursdays. +From her unsuspecting husband himself she had further elicited that +these days were marked out from the ordinary, even for the man of the +world, by a special prayer dubbed "the long 'He being merciful.'" +Surely on Mondays and Thursdays, then, He would indeed be merciful. To +make sure of His good-will she continued to be unmerciful to herself +long after it became certain that her prayer had been granted.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>Both Zillah and Jossel lived in happy ignorance of most things, +especially of their ignorance. The manufacture of boots and all that +appertained thereto, the synagogue and religion, misunderstood +reminiscences of early days in Russia, the doings and misdoings of a +petty social circle, and such particular narrowness with general +muddle as is produced by stumbling through a Sabbath paper and a +Sunday paper: these were the main items in their intellectual +inventory. Separate Zillah from her husband and she became even +poorer, for she could not read at all.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>Yet they prospered. The pavements of the East End resounded with their +hob-nailed boots, and even in many a West End drawing-room their +patent-leather shoes creaked. But they themselves had no wish to stand +in such shoes; the dingy perspectives of Dalston villadom limited +their ambition, already sufficiently gratified by migration from +Whitechapel. The profits went to enlarge their factory and to buy +houses, a favourite form of investment in their set. Zillah could cook +fish to perfection, both fried and stewed, and the latter variety both +sweet and sour. Nothing, in fine, had been wanting to their +happiness—save a son, heir, and mourner.</p> + +<p>When he came at last, little that religion or superstition could do +for him was left undone. An amulet on the bedpost scared off Lilith, +Adam's first wife, who, perhaps because she missed being the mother of +the human race, hankers after babes and sucklings. The initiation into +the Abrahamic covenant was graced by a pious godfather with pendent +ear-locks, and in the ceremony of the Redemption of the First-Born the +five silver shekels to the priest were supplemented by golden +sovereigns for the poor. Nor, though Zillah spoke the passable English +of her circle, did she fail to rock her Brum's cradle to the old +"Yiddish" nursery-songs:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sleep, my birdie, shut your eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O sleep, my little one;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too soon from cradle you'll arise<br /></span><span class='pn'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +<span class="i1">To work that must be done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Almonds and raisins you shall sell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And holy scrolls shall write;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sleep, dear child, sleep sound and well,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Your future beckons bright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Brum shall learn of ancient days,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And love good folk of this;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So sleep, dear babe, your mother prays,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And God will send you bliss."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Alas, that with all this, Brum should have grown up a weakling, sickly +and anæmic, with a look that in the child of poorer parents would have +said starvation.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Yet through all the vicissitudes of his infantile career, Zillah's +faith in his survival never faltered. He was emphatically a child from +Heaven, and Providence would surely not fly in its own face. Jossel, +not being aware of this, had a burden of perpetual solicitude, which +Zillah often itched to lighten. Only, not having done so at first, she +found it more and more difficult to confess her negotiation with the +celestial powers. She went as near as she dared.</p> + +<p>"If the Highest One has sent us a son after so many years," she said +in the "Yiddish" which was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>still natural to her for intimate domestic +discussion, "He will not take him away again."</p> + +<p>"As well say," Jossel replied gloomily, "that because He has sent us +luck and blessing after all these years, He may not take away our +prosperity."</p> + +<p>"Hush! don't beshrew the child!" And Zillah spat out carefully. She +was tremulously afraid of words of ill-omen and of the Evil Eye, +against which, she felt vaguely, even Heaven's protection was not +potent. Secretly she became more and more convinced that some woman, +envious of all this "luck and blessing," was withering Brum with her +Evil Eye. And certainly the poor child was peaking and pining away. +"Marasmus," a physician had once murmured, wondering that so well +dressed a child should appear so ill nourished. "Take him to the +seaside often, and feed him well," was the universal cry of the +doctors; and so Zillah often deserted her husband for a <i>kosher</i> +boarding-house at Brighton or Ramsgate, where the food was voluminous, +and where Brum wrote schoolboy verses to the strange, fascinating sea.</p> + +<p>For there were compensations in the premature flowering of his +intellect. Even other mothers gradually came round to admitting he was +a prodigy. The black eyes seemed to burn in the white face as they +looked out on the palpitating universe, or devoured every and any +scrap of print! A pity they had so soon to be dulled behind +spectacles. But <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>Zillah found consolation in the thought that the +glasses would go well with the high black waistcoat and white tie of +the British Rabbi. He had been given to her by Heaven, and to Heaven +must be returned. Besides, that might divert it from any more sinister +methods of taking him back.</p> + +<p>In his twelfth year Brum began to have more trouble with his eyes, and +renewed his early acquaintance with the drab ante-rooms of eye +hospitals that led, at the long-expected ting-ting of the doctor's +bell, into a delectable chamber of quaint instruments. But it was not +till he was on the point of <i>Bar-Mitzvah</i> (confirmation at thirteen) +that the blow fell. Unwarned explicitly by any physician, Brum went +blind.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," was his first anguished cry, "I shall never be able to +read again."</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>The prepared festivities added ironic complications to the horror. +After Brum should have read in the Law from the synagogue platform, +there was to have been a reception at the house. Brum himself had +written out the invitations with conscious grammar. "Present their +compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Solomon and shall be glad to see <i>them</i>" +(not <i>you</i>, as was the fashion of their set). It was after writing out +so many notes in a fine schoolboy hand, that Brum began to be +conscious of thickening blurs and dancing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>specks and colours. Now +that the blind boy was crouching in hopeless misery by the glowing +fire, where he had so often recklessly pored over books in the +delicious dusk, there was no one handy to write out the countermands. +As yet the wretched parents had kept the catastrophe secret, as though +it reflected on themselves. And by every post the Confirmation +presents came pouring in.</p> + +<p>Brum refused even to feel these shining objects. He had hoped to have +a majority of books, but now the preponderance of watches, rings, and +penknives, left him apathetic. To his parents each present brought a +fresh feeling of dishonesty.</p> + +<p>"We must let them know," they kept saying. But the tiny difficulty of +writing to so many prevented action.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he'll be all right by Sabbath," Zillah persisted frenziedly. +She clung to the faith that this was but a cloud: for that the glory +of the Confirmation of a future Rabbi could be so dimmed would argue +an incomprehensible Providence. Brum's performance was to be so +splendid—he was to recite not only his own portion of the Law but the +entire Sabbath <i>Sedrah</i> (section).</p> + +<p>"He will never be all right," said Jossel, who, in the utter breakdown +of Zillah, had for the first time made the round of the doctors with +Brum. "None of the physicians, not even the most expensive, hold out +any hope. And the dearest of all said the case <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>puzzled him. It was +like the blindness that often breaks out in Russia after the great +fasts, and specially affects delicate children."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember," said Zillah; "but that was only among the +Christians."</p> + +<p>"We have so many Christian customs nowadays," said Jossel grimly; and +he thought of the pestilent heretic in his own synagogue who advocated +that ladies should be added to the choir.</p> + +<p>"Then what shall we do about the people?" moaned Zillah, wringing her +hands in temporary discouragement.</p> + +<p>"You can advertise in the Jewish papers," came suddenly from the +brooding Brum. He had a flash of pleasure in the thought of composing +something that would be published.</p> + +<p>"Yes, then everybody will read it on the Friday," said Jossel eagerly.</p> + +<p>Then Brum remembered that he would not be among the readers, and +despair reconquered him. But Zillah was shaking her head.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but if we tell people not to come, and then when Brum opens his +eyes on the Sabbath morning, he can see to read the <i>Sedrah</i>—"</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to see to read the <i>Sedrah</i>," said the boy +petulantly; "I know it all by heart."</p> + +<p>"My blessed boy!" cried Zillah.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing wonderful," said the boy; "even if you read the +scroll, there are no vowels nor musical signs."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>"But do you feel strong enough to do it all?" said the father +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"God will give him strength," put in the mother. "And he will make his +speech, too, won't you, my Brum?"</p> + +<p>The blind face kindled. Yes, he would give his learned address. He had +saved his father the expense of hiring one, and had departed in +original rhetorical ways from the conventional methods of expressing +filial gratitude to the parents who had brought him to manhood. And +was this eloquence to remain entombed in his own breast?</p> + +<p>His courageous resolution lightened the gloom. His parents opened +parcels they had not had the heart to touch. They brought him his new +suit, they placed the high hat of manhood on his head, and told him +how fine and tall he looked; they wrapped the new silk praying-shawl +round his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Are the stripes blue or black?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Blue—a beautiful blue," said Jossel, striving to steady his voice.</p> + +<p>"It feels very nice," said Brum, smoothing the silk wistfully. "Yes, I +can almost feel the blue."</p> + +<p>Later on, when his father, a little brightened, had gone off to the +exigent boot factory, Brum even asked to see the presents. The blind +retain these visual phrases.</p> + +<p>Zillah described them to him one by one as he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>handled them. When it +came to the books it dawned on her that she could not tell him the +titles.</p> + +<p>"They have such beautiful pictures," she gushed evasively.</p> + +<p>The boy burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I shall never be able to read them," he sobbed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll read them to you," she cried, with sudden resolution.</p> + +<p>"But you can't read."</p> + +<p>"I can learn."</p> + +<p>"But you will be so long. I ought to have taught you myself. And now +it is too late!"</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>In order to insure perfection, and prevent stage fright, so to speak, +it had been arranged that Brum should rehearse his reading of the +<i>Sedrah</i> on Friday in the synagogue itself, at an hour when it was +free from worshippers. This rehearsal, his mother thought, was now all +the more necessary to screw up Brum's confidence, but the father +argued that as all places were now alike to the blind boy, the +prominence of a public platform and a large staring audience could no +longer unnerve him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>"But he will <i>feel</i> them there!" Zillah protested.</p> + +<p>"But since they are not there on the Friday—?"</p> + +<p>"All the more reason. Since he cannot see that they are <i>not</i> there, +he can fancy they <i>are</i> there. On Saturday he will be quite used to +them."</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<p>But when Jossel, yielding, brought Brum to the synagogue appointment, +the fusty old Beadle who was faithfully in attendance held up his +hands in holy and secular horror at the blasphemy and the blindness +respectively.</p> + +<p>"A blind man may not read the Law to the congregation!" he explained.</p> + +<p>"No?" said Jossel.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Brum sharply.</p> + +<p>"Because it stands that the Law shall be read. And a blind man cannot +read. He can only recite."</p> + +<p>"But I know every word of it," protested Brum.</p> + +<p>The Beadle shook his head. "But suppose you make a mistake! Shall the +congregation hear a word or a syllable that God did not write? It +would be playing into Satan's hands."</p> + +<p>"I shall say every word as God wrote it. Give me a trial."</p> + +<p>But the fusty Beadle's piety was invincible. He was highly sympathetic +toward the human affliction, but he refused to open the Ark and +produce the Scroll.</p> + +<p>"I'll let the <i>Chazan</i> (cantor) know he must read to-morrow, as +usual," he said conclusively.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>Jossel went home, sighing, but silenced. Zillah however, was not so +easily subdued. "But my Brum will read it as truly as an angel!" she +cried, pressing the boy's head to her breast. "And suppose he does +make a mistake! Haven't I heard the congregation correct Winkelstein +scores of times?"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Jossel, "you talk like an Epicurean. Satan makes us all +err at times, but we must not play into his hands. The <i>Din</i> +(judgment) is that only those who see may read the Law to the +congregation."</p> + +<p>"Brum will read it much better than that snuffling old Winkelstein."</p> + +<p>"Sha! Enough! The <i>Din</i> is the <i>Din</i>!"</p> + +<p>"It was never meant to stop my poor Brum from—"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Din</i> is the <i>Din</i>. It won't let you dance on its head or chop +wood on its back. Besides, the synagogue refuses, so make an end."</p> + +<p>"I <i>will</i> make an end. I'll have <i>Minyan</i> (congregation) here, in our +own house."</p> + +<p>"What!" and the poor man stared in amaze. "Always she falls from +heaven with a new idea!"</p> + +<p>"Brum shall not be disappointed." And she gave the silent boy a +passionate hug.</p> + +<p>"But we have no Scroll of the Law," Brum said, speaking at last, and +to the point.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's you all over, Zillah," cried Jossel, relieved,—"loud +drumming in front and no soldiers behind!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>"We can borrow a Scroll," said Zillah.</p> + +<p>Jossel gasped again. "But the iniquity is just the same," he said.</p> + +<p>"As if Brum made mistakes!"</p> + +<p>"If you were a Rabbi, the congregation would baptize itself!" Jossel +quoted.</p> + +<p>Zillah writhed under the proverb. "It isn't as if you went to the +Rabbi; you took the word of the Beadle."</p> + +<p>"He is a learned man."</p> + +<p>Zillah donned her bonnet and shawl.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"To the minister."</p> + +<p>Jossel shrugged his shoulders, but did not stop her.</p> + +<p>The minister, one of the new school of Rabbis who preach sermons in +English and dress like Christian clergymen, as befitted the dignity of +Dalston villadom, was taken aback by the ritual problem, so new and so +tragic. His acquaintance with the vast casuistic literature of his +race was of the shallowest. "No doubt the Beadle is right," he +observed profoundly.</p> + +<p>"He cannot be right; he doesn't know my Brum."</p> + +<p>Worn out by Zillah's persistency, the minister suggested going to the +Beadle's together. Aware of the Beadle's prodigious lore, he had too +much regard for his own position to risk congregational odium by +flying in the face of an exhumable <i>Din</i>.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>At the Beadle's, the <i>Din</i> was duly unearthed from worm-eaten folios, +but Zillah remaining unappeased, further searching of these Rabbinic +scriptures revealed a possible compromise.</p> + +<p>If the portion the boy recited was read over again by a reader not +blind, so that the first congregational reading did not count, it +might perhaps be permitted.</p> + +<p>It would be of course too tedious to treat the whole <i>Sedrah</i> thus, +but if Brum were content to recite his own particular seventh thereof, +he should be summoned to the Rostrum.</p> + +<p>So Zillah returned to Jossel, sufficiently triumphant.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>"Abraham, the son of Jossel, shall stand."</p> + +<p>In obedience to the Cantor's summons, the blind boy, in his high hat +and silken praying-shawl with the blue stripes, rose, and guided by +his father's hand ascended the platform, amid the emotion of the +synagogue. His brave boyish treble, pursuing its faultless way, +thrilled the listeners to tears, and inflamed Zillah's breast, as she +craned down from the gallery, with the mad hope that the miracle had +happened, after all.</p> + +<p>The house-gathering afterward savoured of the grewsome conviviality of +a funeral assemblage. But the praises of Brum, especially after his +great speech, were sung more honestly than those of the buried; than +whom the white-faced dull-eyed boy, cut off from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>the gaily coloured +spectacle in the sunlit room, was a more tragic figure.</p> + +<p>But Zillah, in her fineries and forced smiles, offered the most tragic +image of all. Every congratulation was a rose-wreathed dagger, every +eulogy of Brum's eloquence a reminder of the Rabbi God had thrown away +in him.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>Amid the endless babble of suggestions made to her for Brum's cure, +one—repeated several times by different persons—hooked itself to her +distracted brain. Germany! There was a great eye-doctor in Germany, +who could do anything and everything. Yes, she would go to Germany.</p> + +<p>This resolution, at which Jossel shrugged his shoulders in despairing +scepticism, was received with rapture by Brum. How he had longed to +see foreign countries, to pass over that shining sea which whispered +and beckoned so, at Brighton and Ramsgate! He almost forgot he would +not <i>see</i> Germany, unless the eye-doctor were a miracle-monger indeed.</p> + +<p>But he was doomed to a double disappointment; for instead of his going +to Germany, Germany came to him, so to speak, in the shape of the +specialist's annual visit to London; and the great man had nothing +soothing to say, only a compassionate head to shake, with ominous +warnings to make the best of a bad job and fatten up the poor boy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>Nor did Zillah's attempts to read take her out of the infant primers, +despite long hours of knitted brow and puckered lips, and laborious +triumphs over the childish sentences, by patient addition of syllable +to syllable. She also tried to write, but got no further than her own +name, imitated from the envelopes.</p> + +<p>To occupy Brum's days, Jossel, gaining enlightenment in the ways of +darkness, procured Braille books. But the boy had read most of the +stock works thus printed for the blind, and his impatient brain +fretted at the tardiness of finger-reading. Jossel's one consolation +was that the boy would not have to earn his living. The thought, +however, of how his blind heir would be cheated by agents and +rent-collectors was a touch of bitter even in this solitary sweet.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p>It was the Sabbath Fire-Woman who, appropriately enough, kindled the +next glimmer of hope in Zillah's bosom. The one maid-of-all-work, who +had supplied all the help and grandeur Zillah needed in her +establishment, having transferred her services to a husband, Zillah +was left searching for an angel at thirteen pounds a year. In the +interim the old Irishwoman who made a few pence a week by attending to +the Sabbath fires of the poor Jews of the neighbourhood, became +necessary on Friday nights and Saturdays, to save the household from +cold or sin.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>"Och, the quare little brat!" she muttered, when she first came upon +the pale, gnome-like figure by the fender, tapping the big book, for +all the world like the Leprechaun cobbling.</p> + +<p>"And can't he see at all, at all?" she asked Zillah confidentially one +Sabbath, when the boy was out of the room.</p> + +<p>Zillah shook her head, unable to speak.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nebbich!</i>" compassionately sighed the Fire-Woman, who had corrupted +her native brogue with "Yiddish." "And wud he be borrun dark?"</p> + +<p>"No, it came only a few months ago," faltered Zillah.</p> + +<p>The Fire-Woman crossed herself.</p> + +<p>"Sure, and who'll have been puttin' the Evil Oi on him?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Zillah's face was convulsed.</p> + +<p>"I always said so!" she cried; "I always said so!"</p> + +<p>"The divil burrun thim all!" cried the Fire-Woman, poking the coals +viciously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I don't know who it is. They envied me my beautiful child, +my lamb, my only one. And nothing can be done." She burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Nothin' is a harrd wurrd! If he was <i>my</i> bhoy, the darlint, I'd cure +him, aisy enough, so I wud."</p> + +<p>Zillah's sobs ceased. "How?" she asked, her eyes gleaming strangely.</p> + +<p>"I'd take him to the Pope, av course."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>"The Pope!" repeated Zillah vaguely.</p> + +<p>"Ay, the Holy Father! The ownly man in this wurruld that can take away +the Evil Oi."</p> + +<p>Zillah gasped. "Do you mean the Pope of Rome?"</p> + +<p>She knew the phrase somehow, but what it connoted was very shadowy and +sinister: some strange, mighty chief of hostile heathendom.</p> + +<p>"Who else wud I be manin'? The Holy Mother I'd be for prayin' to +meself; but as ye're a Jewess, I dursn't tell ye to do that. But the +Pope, he's a gintleman, an' so he is, an' sorra a bit he'll moind that +ye don't go to mass, whin he shpies that poor, weeshy, pale shrimp o' +yours. He'll just wave his hand, shpake a wurrd, an' whisht! in the +twinklin' of a bedposht ye'll be praisin' the Holy Mother."</p> + +<p>Zillah's brain was whirling. "Go to Rome!" she said.</p> + +<p>The Fire-Woman poised the poker.</p> + +<p>"Well, ye can't expect the Pope to come to Dalston!"</p> + +<p>"No, no; I don't mean that," said Zillah, in hasty apology. "Only it's +so far off, and I shouldn't know how to go."</p> + +<p>"It's not so far off as Ameriky, an' it's two broths of bhoys I've got +there."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?" asked Zillah.</p> + +<p>"No, Lord love ye: an' sure gold carries ye anywhere nowadays, ixcept +to Heaven."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>"But if I got to Rome, would the Pope see the child?"</p> + +<p>"As sartin as the child wud see him," the Fire-Woman replied +emphatically.</p> + +<p>"He can do miracles, then?" inquired Zillah.</p> + +<p>"What else wud he be for? Not that 'tis much of a miracle to take away +the Evil Oi, bad scran to the witch!"</p> + +<p>"Then perhaps our Rabbi can do it, too?" cried Zillah, with a sudden +hope.</p> + +<p>The Fire-Woman shook her head. "Did ye ever hear he could?"</p> + +<p>"No," admitted Zillah.</p> + +<p>"Thrue for you, mum. Divil a wurrd wud I say aginst your +Priesht—wan's as good as another, maybe, for ivery-day use; but whin +it comes to throuble and heart-scaldin', I pity the poor craythurs who +can't put up a candle to the blessed saints—an' so I do. Niver a bhoy +o' mine has crassed the ocean without the Virgin havin' her candle."</p> + +<p>"And did they arrive safe?"</p> + +<p>"They did so; ivery mother's son av 'em."</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p>The more the distracted mother pondered over this sensational +suggestion, the more it tugged at her. Science and Judaism had failed +her: perhaps this unknown power, this heathen Pope, had indeed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>mastery over things diabolical. Perhaps the strange religion he +professed had verily a saving efficacy denied to her own. Why should +she not go to Rome?</p> + +<p>True, the journey loomed before her as fearfully as a Polar Expedition +to an ordinary mortal. Germany she had been prepared to set out for: +it lay on the great route of Jewish migration westwards. But Rome? She +did not even know where it was. But her new skill in reading would, +she felt, help her through the perils. She would be able to make out +the names of the railway stations, if the train waited long enough.</p> + +<p>But with the cunning of the distracted she did not betray her +heretical ferment.</p> + +<p>"P—o—p—e, Pope," she spelt out of her infants' primer in Brum's +hearing. "Pope? What's that, Brum?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, haven't you ever heard of the Pope, mother?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Zillah, crimsoning in conscious invisibility.</p> + +<p>"He's a sort of Chief Rabbi of the Roman Catholics. He wears a tiara. +Kings and emperors used to tremble before him."</p> + +<p>"And don't they now?" she asked apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"No; that was in the Middle Ages—hundreds of years ago. He only had +power over the Dark Ages."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>"Over the Dark Ages?" repeated Zillah, with a fresh, vague hope.</p> + +<p>"When all the world was sunk in superstition and ignorance, mother. +Then everybody believed in him."</p> + +<p>Zillah felt chilled and rebuked. "Then he no longer works miracles?" +she said faintly.</p> + +<p>Brum laughed. "Oh, I daresay he works as many miracles as ever. Of +course thousands of pilgrims still go to kiss his toe. I meant his +temporal power is gone—that is, his earthly power. He doesn't rule +over any countries; all he possesses is the Vatican, but that is full +of the greatest pictures by Michael Angelo and Raphael."</p> + +<p>Zillah gazed open-mouthed at the prodigy she had brought into the +world.</p> + +<p>"Raphael—that sounds Jewish," she murmured. She longed to ask in what +country Rome was, but feared to betray herself.</p> + +<p>Brum laughed again. "Raphael Jewish! Why—so it is! It's a Hebrew word +meaning 'God's healing.'"</p> + +<p>"God's healing!" repeated Zillah, awestruck.</p> + +<p>Her mind was made up.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>X</h4> + +<p>"Knowest thou what, Jossel?" she said in "Yiddish," as they sat by the +Friday-night fireside when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>Brum had been put to bed. "I have heard of +a new doctor, better than all the others!" After all it was the +doctor, the healer, the exorcist of the Evil Eye, that she was seeking +in the Pope, not the Rabbi of an alien religion.</p> + +<p>Jossel shook his head. "You will only throw more money away."</p> + +<p>"Better than throwing hope away."</p> + +<p>"Well, who is it now?"</p> + +<p>"He lives far away."</p> + +<p>"In Germany again?"</p> + +<p>"No, in Rome."</p> + +<p>"In Rome? Why, that's at the end of the world—in Italy!"</p> + +<p>"I know it's in Italy!" said Zillah, rejoiced at the information. "But +what then? If organ-grinders can travel the distance, why can't I?"</p> + +<p>"But you can't speak Italian!"</p> + +<p>"And they can't speak English!"</p> + +<p>"Madness! Work, but not wisdom! I could not trust you alone in such a +strange country, and the season is too busy for me to leave the +factory."</p> + +<p>"I don't need you with me," she said, vastly relieved. "Brum will be +with me."</p> + +<p>He stared at her. "Brum!"</p> + +<p>"Brum knows everything. Believe me, Jossel, in two days he will speak +Italian."</p> + +<p>"Let be! Let be! Let me rest!"</p> + +<p>"And on the way back he will be able to see! He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>will show me +everything, and Mr. Raphael's pictures. 'God's healing,'" she murmured +to herself.</p> + +<p>"But you'd be away for Passover! Enough!"</p> + +<p>"No, we shall be easily back by Passover."</p> + +<p>"O these women! The Almighty could not have rested on the seventh day +if he had not left woman still uncreated."</p> + +<p>"You don't care whether Brum lives or dies!" Zillah burst into sobs.</p> + +<p>"It is just because I do that I ask how are you going to live on the +journey? And there are no <i>kosher</i> hotels in Italy."</p> + +<p>"We shall manage on eggs and fish. God will forgive us if the hotel +plates are unclean."</p> + +<p>"But you won't be properly nourished without meat."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense; when we were poor we <i>had</i> to do without it." To herself +she thought, "If he only knew I did without food altogether on Mondays +and Thursdays!"</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XI</h4> + +<p>And so Brum passed at last over the shining, wonderful sea, feeling +only the wind on his forehead and the salt in his nostrils. It was a +beautiful day at the dawn of spring; the far-stretching sea sparkled +with molten diamonds, and Zillah felt that the highest God's blessing +rested like a blue sky over this strange pilgrimage. She was dressed +with great taste, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>few would have divined the ignorance under her +silks.</p> + +<p>"Mother, can you see France yet?" Brum asked very soon.</p> + +<p>"No, my lamb."</p> + +<p>"Mother, can you see France yet?" he persisted later.</p> + +<p>"I see white cliffs," she said at last.</p> + +<p>"Ah! that's only the white cliffs of Old England. Look the other way."</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> looking the other way. I see white cliffs coming to meet us."</p> + +<p>"Has France got white cliffs, too?" cried Brum, disappointed.</p> + +<p>On the journey to Paris he wearied her to describe France. In vain she +tried: her untrained vision and poor vocabulary could give him no new +elements to weave into a mental picture. There were trees and +sometimes houses and churches. And again trees. What kind of trees? +Green! Brum was in despair. France was, then, only like England; white +cliffs without, trees and houses within. He demanded the Seine at +least.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see a great water," his mother admitted at last.</p> + +<p>"That's it! It rises in the Côte d'Or, flows N.N.W. then W., and N.W. +into the English Channel. It is more than twice as long as the Thames. +Perhaps you'll see the tributaries flowing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>into it—the little +rivers, the Oise, the Marne, the Yonne."</p> + +<p>"No wonder the angels envy me him!" thought Zillah proudly.</p> + +<p>They halted at Paris, putting up for the night, by the advice of a +friendly fellow-traveller, at a hotel by the Gare de Lyon, where, to +Zillah's joy and amazement, everybody spoke English to her and +accepted her English gold—a pleasant experience which was destined to +be renewed at each stage, and which increased her hope of a happy +issue.</p> + +<p>"How loud Paris sounds!" said Brum, as they drove across it. He had to +construct it from its noises, for in answer to his feverish +interrogations his mother could only explain that some streets were +lined with trees and some foolish unrespectable people sat out in the +cold air, drinking at little tables.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how jolly!" said Brum. "But can't you see Notre Dame?"</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"A splendid cathedral, mother—very old. Do look for two towers. We +must go there the first thing to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"The first thing to-morrow we take the train. The quicker we get to +the doctor, the better."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but we can't leave Paris without seeing Notre Dame, and the +gargoyles, and perhaps Quasimodo, and all that Victor Hugo describes. +I wonder <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>if we shall see a devil-fish in Italy," he added +irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>"You'll see the devil if you go to such places," said Zillah, who, +besides shirking the labor of description, was anxious not to provoke +unnecessarily the God of Israel.</p> + +<p>"But I've often been to St. Paul's with the boys," said Brum.</p> + +<p>"Have you?" She was vaguely alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's lovely—the stained windows and the organ. Yes, and the +Abbey's glorious, too; it almost makes me cry. I always liked to hear +the music with my eyes shut," he added, with forced cheeriness, "and +now that'll be all right."</p> + +<p>"But your father wouldn't like it," said Zillah feebly.</p> + +<p>"Father wouldn't like me to read the <i>Pilgrim's Progress</i>," retorted +Brum. "He doesn't understand these things. There's no harm in our +going to Notre Dame."</p> + +<p>"No, no; it'll be much better to save all these places for the way +back, when you'll be able to see for yourself."</p> + +<p>Too late it struck her she had missed an opportunity of breaking to +Brum the real object of the expedition.</p> + +<p>"But the Seine, anyhow!" he persisted. "We can go there to-night."</p> + +<p>"But what can you see at night?" cried Zillah, unthinkingly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>"Oh, mother! how beautiful it used to be to look over London Bridge at +night when we came back from the Crystal Palace!"</p> + +<p>In the end Zillah accepted the compromise, and after their dinner of +fish and vegetables—for which Brum had scant appetite—they were +confided by the hotel porter to a bulbous-nosed cabman, who had +instructions to restore them to the hotel. Zillah thought wistfully of +her warm parlour in Dalston, with the firelight reflected in the glass +cases of the wax flowers.</p> + +<p>The cab stopped on a quay.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Brum breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Little fool!" said Zillah good-humouredly. "There is nothing but +water—the same water as in London."</p> + +<p>"But there are lights, aren't there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, there are lights," she admitted cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"Where is the moon?"</p> + +<p>"Where she always is—in the sky."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't she make a silver path on the water?" he said, with a sob in +his voice.</p> + +<p>"What are you crying at? The mother didn't mean to make you cry."</p> + +<p>She strained him contritely to her bosom, and kissed away his tears.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>XII</h4> + +<p>The train for Switzerland started so early that Brum had no time to +say his morning prayers; so, the carriage being to themselves, he +donned his phylacteries and his praying-shawl with the blue stripes.</p> + +<p>Zillah sat listening to the hour-long recitative with admiration of +his memory.</p> + +<p>Early in the hour she interrupted him to say: "How lucky I haven't to +say all that! I should get tired."</p> + +<p>"That's curious!" replied Brum. "I was just saying, 'Blessed art Thou, +O Lord our God, who hath not made me a woman.' But a woman <i>has</i> to +pray, too, mother. Else why is there given a special form for the +women to substitute?—'Who hath made me according to His will.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's only for learned women. Only learned women pray."</p> + +<p>"Well, you'd like to pray the Benediction that comes next, mother, I +know. Say it with me—do."</p> + +<p>She repeated the Hebrew obediently, then asked: "What does it mean?"</p> + +<p>"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the +blind.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my poor Brum! Teach it me! Say the Hebrew again."</p> + +<p>She repeated it till she could say it unprompted. And then throughout +the journey her lips moved <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>with it at odd times. It became a +talisman—a compromise with the God who had failed her.</p> + +<p>"Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the blind."</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XIII</h4> + +<p>Mountains were the great sensation of the passage through Switzerland. +Brum had never seen a mountain, and the thought of being among the +highest mountains in Europe was thrilling. Even Zillah's eyes could +scarcely miss the mountains. She painted them in broad strokes. But +they did not at all correspond to Brum's expectations of the Alps.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see glaciers?" he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"No," replied Zillah, but kept a sharp eye on the windows of passing +chalets till the boy discovered that she was looking for glaziers at +work.</p> + +<p>"Great masses of ice," he explained, "sliding down very slowly, and +glittering like the bergs in the Polar regions."</p> + +<p>"No, I see none," she said, blushing.</p> + +<p>"Ah! wait till we come to Mont Blanc."</p> + +<p>Mont Blanc was an obsession; his geography was not minute enough to +know that the route did not pass within sight of it. He had expected +it to dominate Switzerland as a cathedral spire dominates a little +town.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>"Mont Blanc is 15,784 feet above the sea," he said voluptuously. +"Eternal snow is on its top, but you will not see that, because it is +above the clouds."</p> + +<p>"It is, then, in Heaven," said Zillah.</p> + +<p>"God is there," replied Brum gravely, and burst out with Coleridge's +lines from his school-book:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in their perilous fall shall thunder God!'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Who openest the eyes of the blind," murmured Zillah.</p> + +<p>"There are five torrents rushing down, also," added Brum. "'And you, +ye five wild torrents fiercely glad.' You'll recognize Mont Blanc by +that. Don't you see them yet, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Wait, I think I see them coming."</p> + +<p>Presently she announced Mont Blanc definitely; described it with +glaciers and torrents and its top reaching to God.</p> + +<p>Brum's face shone.</p> + +<p>"Poor lamb! I may as well give him Mont Blanc," she thought tenderly.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XIV</h4> + +<p>Endless other quaint dialogues passed between mother and son on that +tedious and harassing journey southwards.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>"There'll be no more snow when we get to Italy," Brum explained. +"Italy's the land of beauty—always sunshine and blue sky. It's the +country of the old Gods—Venus, the goddess of beauty; Juno, with her +peacocks; Jupiter, with his thunderbolts, and lots of others."</p> + +<p>"But I thought the Pope was a Christian," said Zillah.</p> + +<p>"So he is. It was long ago, before people believed in Christianity."</p> + +<p>"But then they were all Jews."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, mother. There were Pagan gods that people used to believe in +at Rome and in Greece. In Greece, though, these gods changed their +names."</p> + +<p>"So!" said Zillah scornfully; "I suppose they wanted to have a fresh +chance. And what's become of them now?"</p> + +<p>"They weren't ever there, not really."</p> + +<p>"And yet people believed in them? Is it possible?" Zillah clucked her +tongue with contemptuous surprise. Then she murmured mechanically, +"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the +blind.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, and what do people believe in now? The Pope!" Brum reminded +her. "And yet <i>he's</i> not true."</p> + +<p>Zillah's heart sank. "But he's really there," she protested feebly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, he's there, because pilgrims come from all parts of the world +to get his blessing."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>Her hopes revived.</p> + +<p>"But they wouldn't come unless he really did them good."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you argue like that, mother, you might as well say we ought +to believe in Christ."</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush!" The forbidden word jarred on Zillah. She felt chilled +and silenced. She had to call up the image of the Irish Fire-Woman to +restore herself to confidence. It was clear Brum must not be told; his +unfaith might spoil all. No, the deception must be kept up till his +eyes were opened—in more than one sense.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XV</h4> + +<p>After Mont Blanc, Brum's great interest was the leaning tower of Pisa. +"It is one of the wonders of the world," he said; "there are seven +altogether."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is a wonderful world," said Zillah; "I never thought about it +before."</p> + +<p>And in truth Italy was beginning to touch sleeping chords. The +cypresses, the sunset on the mountains, the white towns dozing on the +hills under the magical blue sky,—all these broad manifestations of +an obvious beauty, under the spur of Brum's incessant interrogatory, +began to penetrate. Nature in unusual combinations spoke to her as its +habitual phenomena had never done. Her replies to Brum did rough +justice to Italy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>Florence recalled "Romola" to the boy. He told his mother about +Savonarola. "He was burnt!"</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Zillah. "Burn a Christian! No wonder, then, they burnt +Jews. But why?"</p> + +<p>"He wanted the people to be good. All good people suffer."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense, Brum! It is the bad who suffer."</p> + +<p>Then she looked at his wasted, white face, grown thinner with the +weariness of the long journey through perpetual night, and wonder at +her own words struck her silent.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XVI</h4> + +<p>They arrived at last in the Eternal City, having taken a final run of +many hours without a break. But the Pope was still to seek.</p> + +<p>Leaving the exhausted Brum in bed, Zillah drove the first morning to +the Vatican, where Brum said he lived, and asked to see him.</p> + +<p>A glittering Swiss Guard stared blankly at her, and directed her by +dumb show to follow the stream of people—the pilgrims, Zillah told +herself. She was made to scrawl her name, and, thanking God that she +had acquired that accomplishment, she went softly up a gorgeous flight +of steps, and past awe-inspiring creatures in tufted helmets, into the +Sistine Chapel, where she wondered at people staring ceilingwards +through opera-glasses, or looking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>downwards into little mirrors. +Zillah also stared up through the gloom till she had a crick in the +neck, but saw no sign of the Pope. She inquired of the janitor whether +he was the Pope, and realized that English was, after all, not the +universal language. She returned gloomily to see after Brum, and to +consider her plan of campaign.</p> + +<p>"The great doctor was not at home," she said. "We must wait a little."</p> + +<p>"And yet you made us hurry so through everything," grumbled Brum.</p> + +<p>Brum remained in bed while Zillah went to get some lunch in the +dining-room. A richly dressed old lady who sat near her noticed that +she was eating Lenten fare, like herself, and, assuming her a +fellow-Catholic, spoke to her, in foreign-sounding English, about the +blind boy whose arrival she had observed.</p> + +<p>Zillah asked her how one could get to see the Pope, and the old lady +told her it was very difficult.</p> + +<p>"Ah, those blessed old times before 1870!—ah, the splendid ceremonies +in St. Peter's! Do you remember them?"</p> + +<p>Zillah shook her head. The old lady's assumption of spiritual +fellowship made her uneasy.</p> + +<p>But St. Peter's stuck in her mind. Brum had already told her it was +the Pope's house of prayer. Clearly, therefore, it was only necessary +to loiter about there with Brum to chance upon him and extort his +compassionate withdrawal of the spell of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>the Evil Eye. With a +culminating inspiration she bought a photograph of the Pope, and +overcoming the first shock of hereditary repulsion at the sight of the +large pendent crucifix at his breast, she studied carefully the +Pontiff's face and the Papal robes.</p> + +<p>Then, when Brum declared himself strong enough to get up, they drove +to St. Peter's, the instruction being given quietly to the driver so +that Brum should not overhear it.</p> + +<p>It was the first time Zillah had ever been in a cathedral; and the +vastness and glory of it swept over her almost as a reassuring sense +of a greater God than she had worshipped in dingy synagogues. She +walked about solemnly, leading Brum by the hand, her breast swelling +with suppressed sobs of hope. Her eyes roved everywhere, searching for +the Pope; but at moments she well-nigh forgot her disappointment at +his absence in the wonder and ghostly comfort of the great dim spaces, +and the mysterious twinkle of the countless lights before the bronze +canopy with its golden-flashing columns.</p> + +<p>"Where are we, mother?" said Brum at last.</p> + +<p>"We are waiting for the doctor."</p> + +<p>"But where?"</p> + +<p>"In the waiting-room."</p> + +<p>"It seems very large, mother."</p> + +<p>"No, I am walking round and round."</p> + +<p>"There is a strange smell, mother,—I don't know what—something +religious."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>"Oh, nonsense!" She laughed uneasily.</p> + +<p>"I know what it smells like: cold marble pillars and warm coloured +windows."</p> + +<p>Her blood froze at such uncanny sensibility.</p> + +<p>"It is the smell of the medicines," she murmured. Somehow his +divination made it more difficult to confess to him.</p> + +<p>"It feels like being in St. Paul's or the Abbey," he persisted, "when +I used to shut my eyes to hear the organ better." He had scarcely +ceased speaking, when a soft, slow music began to thrill with life the +great stone spaces.</p> + +<p>Brum's grasp tightened convulsively: a light leapt into the blind +face. Both came to a standstill, silent. In Zillah's breast rapture +made confusion more confounded; and as this pealing grandeur, swelling +more passionately, uplifted her high as the mighty Dome, she forgot +everything—even the need of explanation to Brum—in this wonderful +sense of a Power that could heal, and her Hebrew benediction flowed +out into sobbing speech:—</p> + +<p>"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the +blind.'"</p> + +<p>But Brum had fainted, and hung heavy on her arm.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XVII</h4> + +<p>When Brum awoke, in bed again, after his long fainting-fit, he related +with surprise his vivid dream <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>of St. Paul's, and Zillah weakly +acquiesced in the new deception, especially as the doctor warned her +against exciting the boy. But her hopes were brighter than ever; for +the old lady had beneficently appeared from behind a pillar in St. +Peter's to offer eau de Cologne for the unconscious Brum, and had +then, interesting herself in the couple, promised to procure for her +fellow-Catholics admission to the next Papal reception. Being a very +rich and fashionable old lady, she kept her word; but unfortunately, +when the day came round, Brum was terribly low and forbidden to leave +his bed.</p> + +<p>Zillah was distracted. If she should miss the great chance after all! +It might never recur again.</p> + +<p>"Brum," she said at last, "this is the only day for a long time that +the great eye-doctor receives patients. Do you think you could go, my +lamb?"</p> + +<p>"Why won't he come here—like the other doctors?"</p> + +<p>"He is too great."</p> + +<p>"Well, I daresay I can manage. It's miserable lying in bed. Fancy +coming to Rome and seeing nothing!"</p> + +<p>With infinite care Brum was dressed and wrapped up, and placed in a +specially comfortable brougham; and thus at last mother and son stood +waiting in one of the ante-chambers of the Vatican, amid twenty other +pilgrims whispering in strange languages. Zillah was radiantly +assured: the mighty Power, whatever it was, that spoke in music and in +mountains, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>would never permit such weary journeyings and waitings to +end in the old darkness; the malice of witches could not prevail +against this great spirit of sunshine. For Brum, too, the long +pilgrimage had enveloped the doctor with a miraculous glamour as of an +eighth wonder of the world.</p> + +<p>Drooping wearily on his mother's arm, but wrought up to joyous +anticipation, Brum had an undoubting sense of the patient crowd around +him waiting, as in his old hospital days, for admission to the +doctor's sanctum. His ear was strung for the ting-ting of the bell +summoning the sufferers one by one.</p> + +<p>At last a wave of awe swept over the little fashionable gathering, and +set Zillah's heart thumping and the room fading in mist, through which +the tall, venerable, robed figure, the eagle features softened in +benediction, gleamed like a god's. Then she found herself on her +knees, with Brum at her side, and the wonderful figure passing between +two rows of reverent pilgrims.</p> + +<p>"Why must I kneel, mother?" murmured Brum feebly.</p> + +<p>"Hush! hush!" she whispered. "The great doc—" she hesitated in awe of +the venerable figure—"the great healer is here."</p> + +<p>"The great healer!" breathed Brum. His face was transfigured with +ecstatic forevision. "'Who openeth the eyes of the blind,'" he +murmured, as he fell forward in death.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>II</h2> + +<h2>TRANSITIONAL</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="II" id="II"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>II<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>TRANSITIONAL</h3> + +<br /> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>The day came when old Daniel Peyser could no longer withstand his +wife's desire for a wider social sphere and a horizon blacker with +advancing bachelors. For there were seven daughters, and not a man to +the pack. Indeed, there had been only one marriage in the whole +Portsmouth congregation during the last five years, and the Christian +papers had had reports of the novel ceremony, with the ritual bathing +of the bride and the breaking of the glass under the bridegroom's +heel. To Mrs. Peyser, brought up amid the facile pairing of the +Russian pale, this congestion of celibacy approached immorality.</p> + +<p>Portsmouth with its careless soldiers and sailors might be an +excellent town for pawnbroking, especially when one was not too +punctiliously acceptant of the ethics of the heathen, but as a market +for maidens—even with dowries and pretty faces—it was hopeless. But +it was not wholly as an emporium for bachelors that London appealed. +It was the natural goal of the provincial Jew, the reward of his +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>industry. The best people had all drifted to the mighty magic city, +whose fascination survived even cheap excursions to it.</p> + +<p>Would father deny that they had now made enough to warrant the +migration? No, father would not deny it. Ever since he had left +Germany as a boy he had been saving money, and his surplus he had +shrewdly invested in the neighbouring soil of Southsea, fast growing +into a watering-place. Even allowing three thousand pounds for each +daughter's dowry, he would still have a goodly estate.</p> + +<p>Was there any social reason why they should not cut as great a dash as +the Benjamins or the Rosenweilers? No, father would not deny that his +girls were prettier and more polished than the daughters of these +pioneers, especially when six of them crowded around the stern granite +figure, arguing, imploring, cajoling, kissing.</p> + +<p>"But I don't see why we should waste the money," he urged, with the +cautious instincts of early poverty.</p> + +<p>"Waste!" and the pretty lips made reproachful "Oh's!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, waste!" he retorted. "In India one treads on diamonds and gold, +but in London the land one treads on costs diamonds and gold."</p> + +<p>"But are we never to have a grandson?" cried Mrs. Peyser.</p> + +<p>The Indian item was left unquestioned, so that little Schnapsie, whose +childish imagination was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>greatly impressed by these eventful family +debates, had for years a vivid picture of picking her way with bare +feet over sharp-pointed diamonds and pebbly gold. Indeed, long after +she had learned to wonder at her father's naïve geography the word +"India" always shone for her with barbaric splendour.</p> + +<p>Environed by so much persistent femininity, the rugged elderly toiler +was at last nagged into accepting a leisured life in London.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>And so the family spread its wings joyfully and migrated to the +wonder-town. Only its head and tail—old Daniel and little +Schnapsie—felt the least sentiment for the things left behind. Old +Daniel left the dingy synagogue to whose presidency he had mounted +with the fattening of his purse, and in which he bought for himself, +or those he delighted to honour, the choicest privileges of +ark-opening or scroll-bearing; left the cronies who dropped in to play +"Klabberjagd" on Sunday afternoons; left the bustling lucrative +Saturday nights in the shop when the heathen housewives came to redeem +their Sabbath finery.</p> + +<p>And little Schnapsie—who was only eleven, and not keen about +husbands—left the twinkling tarry harbour, with its heroic hulks and +modern men-of-war amid which the half-penny steamer plied; left the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>great waves that smashed on the pebbly beach, and the friendly moon +that threw shimmering paths across their tranquillity; left the narrow +lively streets in which she had played, and the school in which she +had always headed her class, and the salt wind that blew over all.</p> + +<p>Little Schnapsie was only Schnapsie to her father. Her real name was +Florence. The four younger girls all bore pagan names—Sylvia, Lily, +Daisy, Florence—symbolic of the influence upon the family councils of +the three elder girls, grown to years of discretion and disgust with +their own Leah, Rachael, and Rebecca. Between these two strata of +girls—Jewish and pagan—two boys had intervened, but their stay was +brief and pitiful, so that all this plethora of progeny had not +provided the father with a male mourner to say the <i>Kaddish</i>. But it +seemed likely a grandson would not long be a-wanting, for the eldest +girl was twenty-five, and all were good-looking. As if in irony, the +Jewish group was blond, almost Christian, in colouring (for they took +after the Teuton father), while the pagan group had characteristically +Oriental traits. In little Schnapsie these Eastern charms—a whit +heavy in her sisters—were repeated in a key of exquisite refinement. +The thick black eyebrows and hair were soft as silk, dark dreamy eyes +suffused her oval face with poetry, and her skin was like dead ivory +flushing into life.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>III</h4> + +<p>The first year at Highbury, that genteel suburb in the north of +London, was an enchanted ecstasy for the mother and the Jewish group +of girls, taken at once to the bosom of a great German clan, and +admitted to a new world of dances and dinners, of "at homes" and +theatres and card parties. The eldest of the pagan group, +Sylvia—tyrannically kept young in the interests of her sisters—was +the only one who grumbled at the change, for Lily and Daisy found +sufficient gain in the prospect of replacing the elder group when it +should have passed away in an odour of orange blossom. The scent of +that was always in the air, and Mrs. Peyser and her three hopefuls +sniffed it night and day.</p> + +<p>"No, no; Rebecca shall have him."</p> + +<p>"Not me! I am not going to marry a man with carroty hair. Leah's the +eldest; it's her turn first."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, my dear. Don't give away what you haven't got."</p> + +<p>Every new young man who showed the faintest signs of liking to drop +in, provoked a similar semi-facetious but also semi-serious +canvassing—his person, his income, and the girl to whom he should be +allotted supplying the sauce of every meal at which he—or his +fellow—was not present.</p> + +<p>Thus, whether in the flesh or the spirit, the Young Man—for so many +of him appeared on the scene <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>that he hovered in the air rather as a +type than an individual—was a permanent guest at the Peyser table.</p> + +<p>But all this new domestic excitement did not compensate little +Schnapsie for her moonlit waters and the strange ships that came and +went with their cargo of mystery.</p> + +<p>And poor old Daniel found no cronies to appeal to him like the old, +nothing in the roar of London to compensate for the Saturday night +bustle of the pawn-shop, no dingy little synagogue desirous of his +presidential pomp. He sat inconspicuously in a handsome half-empty +edifice, and knew himself a superfluous atom in a vast lonely +wilderness.</p> + +<p>He was not, indeed, an imposing figure, with his ragged graying +whiskers and his boyish blue eyes. In the street he had the stoop and +shuffle of the Ghetto, and forgot to hide his coarse red hands with +gloves; in the house he persisted in wearing a pious skull-cap. At +first his more adaptable wife and his English-bred daughters tried to +fit him for decent society, and to make him feel at home during their +"at homes." But he was soon relegated to the background of these +brilliant social tableaux; for he was either too silent or too +talkative, with old-fashioned Jewish jokes which disconcerted the +smart young men, and with Hebrew quotations which they could not even +understand. And sometimes there thrilled through the small-talk the +trumpet-note of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>his nose, as he blew it into a coloured handkerchief. +Gradually he was eliminated from the drawing-room altogether.</p> + +<p>But for some years longer he reigned supreme in the dining-room—when +there was no company. Old habit kept the girls at table when he +intoned with noisy unction the Hebrew grace after meals; they even +joined in the melodious morceaux that diversified the plain-chant. But +little by little their contributions dwindled to silence. And when +they had smart company to dinner, the old man himself was hushed by +rows of blond and bugle eyebrows; especially after he had once or +twice put young men to shame by offering them the honour of reciting +the grace they did not know.</p> + +<p>Daniel's prayer on such occasions was at length reduced to a pious +mumbling, which went unobserved amid the joyous clatter of dessert, +even as his pious skull-cap passed as a preventive against cold.</p> + +<p>Last stage of all, the mumbling of his company manners passed over +into the domestic circle; and this humble whispering to God became +symbolic of his suppression.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>"I don't think he means Rachael at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how can you say so, Leah? It was me he took down to supper."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>"Nonsense! it isn't either of you he's after; that's only his +politeness to my sisters. Didn't he say the bouquet was for me?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly, Rebecca. You know you can't have him. The eldest must +take precedence."</p> + +<p>This changed tone indicated their humbler attitude toward the Young +Man as the years went by. For the first young man did not propose, +either to the sisterhood <i>en bloc</i> or to a particular sister. And his +example was followed by his successors. In fact, a procession of young +men passed and repassed through the house, or danced with the girls at +balls, without a single application for any of these many hands. And +the first season passed into the second, and the second into the +third, with tantalizing mirages of marriage. Balls, dances, dinners, a +universe of nebulous matrimonial matter on the whirl, but never the +shot-off star of an engagement! Mrs. Peyser's hair began to whiten +faster. She even surreptitiously called in the Shadchan, or rather +surrendered to his solicitations.</p> + +<p>"Pooh! Not find any one suitable?" he declared, rubbing his hands. "I +have hundreds of young men on my books, just your sort, real +gentlemen."</p> + +<p>At first the girls refused to consider applications from such a +source. It was not done in their set, they said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyser snorted sceptically. "Oh, indeed! and pray how did those +Rosenweiler girls find husbands?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>"Oh, yes, the Rosenweilers!" They shrugged their shoulders; they knew +they had not that disadvantage of hideousness.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless they lent an ear to the agent's suggestions as filtered +through the mother, though under pretence of deriding them.</p> + +<p>But the day came when even that pretence was dropped, and with broken +spirit they waited eagerly for each new possibility. And with the +passing of the years the Young Man aged. He grew balder, less +gentlemanly, poorer.</p> + +<p>Once indeed, he turned up as a handsome and wealthy Christian, but +this time it was he that was rejected in a unanimous sisterly shudder. +Five slow years wore by, then of a sudden the luck changed. A +water-proof manufacturer on the sunny side of forty appeared, the long +glacial epoch was broken up, and the first orange blossom ripened for +the Peyser household.</p> + +<p>It was Rebecca, the youngest of the Jewish group, who proved the +pioneer to the canopy, but her marriage gave a new lease of youth even +to the oldest. And miraculously, mysteriously, within a few months two +other girls flew off Mrs. Peyser's shoulders—a Jewish and a +pagan—though Sylvia was not yet formally "out."</p> + +<p>And though Leah, the first born, still remained unchosen, yet Sylvia's +marriage to a Bayswater household had raised the family status, and +provided <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>a better field for operations. The Shadchan was frozen off.</p> + +<p>But he returned. For despite all these auguries and auspices another +arctic winter set in. No orange blossoms, only desolate lichens of +fruitless flirtation.</p> + +<p>Gradually the pagan group pushed its way into unconcealable womanhood. +The problem darkened all the horizon. The Young Man grew middle-aged +again. He lost all his money; he wanted old Daniel to set him up in +business. Even this seemed better than a barren fine ladyhood, and +Leah might have even harked back to the parental pawn-shop had not +another sudden epidemic of felicity married off all save little +Schnapsie within eighteen months. Mrs. Peyser was knocked breathless +by all these shocks. First a rich German banker, then a prosperous +solicitor (for Leah), then a Cape financier—any one in himself catch +enough to "gouge out the eyes" of the neighbours.</p> + +<p>"I told you so," she said, her portly bosom swelling portlier with +exultation as the sixth bride was whirled off in a rice shower from +the Highbury villa, while the other five sat around in radiant +matronhood. "I told you to come to London."</p> + +<p>Daniel pressed her hand in gratitude for all the happiness she had +given herself and the girls.</p> + +<p>"If it were not for Florence," she went on wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Ah, little Schnapsie!" sighed Daniel. Somehow he felt he would have +preferred her hymeneal felicity <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>to all these marvellous marriages. +For there had grown up a strange sympathy between the poor lonely old +man, now nearly seventy, and his little girl, now twenty-four. They +never conversed except about commonplaces, but somehow he felt that +her presence warmed the air. And she—she divined his solitude, albeit +dimly; had an intuition of what life had been for him in the days +before she was born: the long days behind the counter, the risings in +the gray dawn to chant orisons and don phylacteries ere the pawn-shop +opened, the lengthy prayer and the swift supper when the shutters were +at last put up—all the bare rock on which this floriage of prosperity +had been sown. And long after the others had dropped kissing him +good-night, she would tender her lips, partly because of the necessary +domestic fiction that she was still a baby, but also because she felt +instinctively that the kiss counted in his life.</p> + +<p>Through all these years of sordid squabbles and canvassings and weary +waiting, all those endless scenes of hysteria engendered by the mutual +friction of all that close-packed femininity, poor Schnapsie had +lived, shuddering. Sometimes a sense of the pathos of it all, of the +tragedy of women's lives, swept over her. She regretted every inch she +grew, it seemed to shame her celibate sisters so. She clung willingly +to short skirts until she was of age, wore her long raven hair in a +plait with a red ribbon.</p> + +<p>"Well, Florence," said Leah genially, when the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>last outsider at +Daisy's wedding had departed, "it's your turn next. You'd better hurry +up."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Florence coldly. "I shall take my own time; +fortunately there is no one behind me."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Leah, playing with her diamond rings. "It don't do to be +too particular. Why don't you come round and see me sometimes?"</p> + +<p>"There are so many of you now," murmured Florence. She was not +attracted by the solicitors and traders in whose society and carriages +her mother lolled luxuriously, and she resented the matronly airs of +her sisters. With Leah, however, she was conscious of a different and +more paradoxical provocation. Leah had an incredible air of +juvenility. All those unthinkable, innumerable years little Schnapsie +had conceived of her eldest sister as an old maid, hopeless, +senescent, despite the wonderful belt that had kept her figure +dashing; but now that she was married she had become the girlish +bride, kittenish, irresistible, while little Schnapsie was the old +maid, the sister in peril of being passed by. And indeed she felt +herself appallingly ancient, prematurely aged by her long stay at +seventeen.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are right, Leah," she said pensively, with a touch of +malice. "To-morrow I shall be twenty-four."</p> + +<p>"What?" shrieked Leah.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Florence said obstinately. "And oh, how <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>glad I shall be!" She +raised her arms exultingly and stretched herself, as if shooting up +seven years as soon as the pressure of her sisters was removed.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear, mother?" whispered Leah. "That fool of a Florence is +going to celebrate her twenty-fourth birthday. Not the slightest +consideration for <i>us</i>!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say I would celebrate it publicly," said Florence. +"Besides," she suggested, smiling, "very soon people will forget that +I am <i>not</i> the eldest."</p> + +<p>"Then your folly will recoil on your own head," said Leah.</p> + +<p>Little Schnapsie gave a devil-may-care shrug—a Ghetto trait that +still clung to all the sisters.</p> + +<p>"Yes," added Mrs. Peyser. "Think what it will be in ten years' time!"</p> + +<p>"I shall be thirty-four," said Florence imperturbably. Another little +smile lit up the dreamy eyes. "Then I <i>shall</i> be the eldest."</p> + +<p>"Madness!" cried Mrs. Peyser, aloud, forgetting that her daughters' +husbands were about. "God forbid I should live to see any girl of mine +thirty-four!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, mother!" said Florence quietly. "I hope you will; indeed, I am +sure you will, for I shall <i>never</i> marry. So don't bother to put me on +the books—I'm not on the market. Good-night."</p> + +<p>She sought out poor Daniel, who, awed by the culture and standing of +his five sons-in-law, not to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>speak of the guests, was hanging about +the deserted supper-room, smoking cigar after cigar, much to the +disgust of the caterer's men, who were waiting to spirit away the box.</p> + +<p>Having duly kissed her father, little Schnapsie retired to bed to read +Browning's love-poems. Her mother had to take a glass of champagne to +restore her ruffled nerves to the appropriate ecstasy.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>Poor portly Mrs. Peyser was not destined to enjoy her harvest of +happiness for more than a few years. But these years were an +overbrimming cup, with only the bitter drop of Florence's heretical +indifference to the Young Man. Environed by the six households which +she had begotten, Mrs. Peyser breathed that atmosphere of ebullient +babyhood which was the breath of her Jewish nostrils; babies appeared +almost every other month. It was a seething well-spring of healthy +life. Religious ceremonies connected with these chubby new-comers, or +medical recipes for their bodily salvation, absorbed her. But her +exuberant grandmotherliness usually received a check in the summer, +when the babies were deported to scattered sea-shores; and thus it +came to pass that the summer of her death found her still lingering in +London with a bad cold, with only Daniel and little Schnapsie at +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>hand. And before the others could be called, Mrs. Peyser passed away +in peace, in the old Portsmouth bed, overlooked by the old Hebrew +picture exiled from the London dining-room.</p> + +<p>It was a curious end. She did not know she was dying, but Daniel was +anxious she should not be reft into silence before she had made the +immemorial proclamation of the Unity. At the same time he hesitated to +appall her with the grim knowledge.</p> + +<p>He was blubbering piteously, yet striving to hide his sobs. The early +days of his struggle came back, the first weeks of wedded happiness, +then the long years of progressive prosperity and godly cheerfulness +in Portsmouth ere she had grown fashionable and he unimportant; and a +vast self-pity mingled with his pitiful sense of her excellencies—the +children she had borne him in agony, the economy of her house +management, the good bargains she had driven with the clod-pated +soldiers and sailors, the later splendour of her social achievement.</p> + +<p>And little Schnapsie wept with a sense of the vanity of these dual +existences to which she owed her own empty life.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Mrs. Peyser, over whose black eyes a glaze had been stealing, +let the long dark eyelashes fall over them.</p> + +<p>"Sarah!" whispered Daniel frantically. "Say the Shemang!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one," said the sensuous +lips obediently.</p> + +<p>Little Schnapsie shrugged her shoulders rebelliously. The dogma seemed +so irrelevant.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Peyser opened her eyes, and a beautiful mother-light came into +them as she saw the weeping girl.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Florrie, do not fret," she said reassuringly, in her long-lapsed +Yiddish. "I will find thee a bridegroom."</p> + +<p>Her eyes closed, and little Schnapsie shuddered with a weird image of +a lover fetched from the shrouded dead.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>After his Sarah had been lowered into "The House of Life," and the +excitement of the tombstone recording her virtues had subsided, Daniel +would have withered away in an empty world but for little Schnapsie. +The two kept house together; the same big house that had reeked with +so much feminine life, and about which the odours of perfumes and +powders still seemed to linger. But father and daughter only met at +meals. He spent hours over the morning paper, with the old quaint +delusions about India and other things he read of, and he pottered +about the streets, or wandered into the Beth-Hamidrash, which a local +fanatic had just instituted in North London, and in which, under <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>the +guidance of a Polish sage, Daniel strove to concentrate his aged wits +on the ritual problems of Babylon. At long intervals he brushed his +old-fashioned high hat carefully, and timidly rang the bell of one of +his daughters' mansions, and was permitted to caress a loudly +remonstrating baby; but they all lived so far from him and one another +in this mighty London. From Sylvia's, where there was a boy with +buttons, he had always been frightened off, and when the others began +to emulate her, his visits ceased altogether. As for the sisters +coming to see him, all pleaded overwhelming domestic duty, and the +frigidity of Florence's reception of them. "Now if you lived alone—or +with one of us!" But somehow Daniel felt the latter alternative would +be as desolate as the former. And though he knew some wide vague river +flowed between even his present housemate's life and his own, yet he +felt far more clearly the bridge of love over which their souls passed +to each other.</p> + +<p>Figure then the septuagenarian's amaze when, one fine morning, as he +was shuffling about in his carpet slippers, the servant brought him +word that his six daughters demanded his instantaneous presence in the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>The shock drove out all thoughts of toilet; his heart beat quicker +with a painful premonition of he knew not what. This simultaneous +visit recalled funerals, weddings. He looked out of a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>window and saw +four carriages drawn up, and that completed his sense of something +elemental. He tottered into the drawing-room—grown dingy now that it +had no more daughters to dispose of—and shrank before the +resplendence with which their presence reinvested it. They rustled +with silks, shone with gold necklaces, and impregnated the air with +its ancient aroma of powders and perfumes. He felt himself dwindling +before all this pungent prosperity, like some more creative +Frankenstein before a congress of his own monsters.</p> + +<p>They did not rise as he entered. The Jewish group and the pagan group +were promiscuously seated—marriage had broken down all the ancient +landmarks. They all looked about the same agelessness—a standstill +buxom matronhood.</p> + +<p>Daniel stood at the door, glancing from one to another. Some coughed; +others fidgeted with muffs.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sit down, father," said Rachael kindly, though she retained +the arm-chair,—and there was a general air of relief at her voice. +But the old embarrassment returned as the silence reëstablished itself +when Daniel had drooped into a stiff chair.</p> + +<p>At last Leah took the word: "We have come while Florrie is at her +slumming—"</p> + +<p>"At her slumming!" repeated Sylvia, with more significance, and a +meaning smile spread over the six faces.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>"Yes?" Daniel murmured.</p> + +<p>"—Because we did not want her to know of our coming."</p> + +<p>"It concerns Schnapsie?" he murmured.</p> + +<p>"Yes, your little Schnapsie," said Daisy viciously.</p> + +<p>"Yes; she has no time to come and see <i>us</i>," cried Rebecca. "But she +has plenty of time for her—<i>slumming</i>."</p> + +<p>"Well, she does good," he murmured apologetically.</p> + +<p>"A fat lot of good!" sniggered Rachael.</p> + +<p>"To herself!" corrected Lily.</p> + +<p>"I do not understand," he muttered uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Well—" began Lily. "You tell him, Leah; you know more about it."</p> + +<p>"You know as much as I do."</p> + +<p>He looked appealingly from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"I always said the slums were dangerous places for people of our +class," said Sylvia. "She doesn't even confine herself to her own +people."</p> + +<p>The faces began to lighten—evidently they felt the ice broken.</p> + +<p>"Dangerous!" he repeated, catching at the ominous word.</p> + +<p>"Dreadful!" in a common shudder.</p> + +<p>He half rose. "You have bad news?" he cried.</p> + +<p>The faces gloomed over, the heads nodded.</p> + +<p>"About Schnapsie?" he shrieked, jumping up.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sit down; she's not dead," said Leah contemptuously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>He sat down.</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it? What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"She's engaged!" In Leah's mouth the word sounded like a death-bell.</p> + +<p>"Engaged!" he breathed, with a glimmering foreboding of the horror.</p> + +<p>"To a Christian!" said Daisy brutally.</p> + +<p>He sank back, pale and trembling. A tense silence fell on the room.</p> + +<p>"But how? Who?" he murmured at last.</p> + +<p>The girls recovered themselves. Now they were all speaking at once.</p> + +<p>"Another slummer."</p> + +<p>"He's the son of an archdeacon."</p> + +<p>"An awful Christian crank."</p> + +<p>"And that's your pet Schnapsie."</p> + +<p>"If <i>we</i> had wanted Christians, we could have been married twenty +years ago."</p> + +<p>"It's a terrible disgrace for us."</p> + +<p>"She doesn't consider us in the least."</p> + +<p>"She'll be miserable, anyhow. When they quarrel, he'll always throw it +up to her that she's a Jewess."</p> + +<p>"And wouldn't join our Daughters of Mercy committee—had no time."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't going to marry—turned up her nose at all the Jewish young +men!"</p> + +<p>"But she would have told me!" he murmured hopelessly. "I don't believe +it. My little Schnapsie!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>"Don't believe it?" snorted Leah. "Why, she didn't even deny it."</p> + +<p>"Have you spoken to her, then?"</p> + +<p>"Have we spoken to her! Why, she says Judaism is all nonsense! She +will disgrace us all."</p> + +<p>The blind racial instinct spoke through them—the twenty-five +centuries of tested separateness. But Daniel felt in super-addition +the conscious religious horror.</p> + +<p>"But is she to be married in a Christian church?" he breathed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she isn't going to marry—yet."</p> + +<p>His poor heart fluttered at the reprieve.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't care a pin for <i>our</i> feelings," went on Leah. "But of +course she won't marry while <i>you</i> are alive."</p> + +<p>Lily took up the thread. "We all told her if she'd only marry a Jew, +we'd all be glad to have you—in turn. But she said it wasn't that. +She could have you herself; her Alfred wouldn't mind. It's the shock +to your religious feelings that keeps her back. She doesn't want to +hurt you."</p> + +<p>"God bless her, my good little Schnapsie!" he murmured. His dazed +brain did not grasp all the bearings, was only conscious of a vast +relief.</p> + +<p>Disgust darkened all the faces.</p> + +<p>He groped to understand it, putting his hand over the white hairs that +straggled from his skull-cap.</p> + +<p>"But then—then it's all right."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>"Yes, all right," said Leah brutally. "But for how long?"</p> + +<p>Her meaning seized him like an icy claw upon his heart. For the first +time in his life he realized the certainty of death, and +simultaneously with the certainty its imminence.</p> + +<p>"We want you to put a stop to it <i>now</i>," said Sylvia. "For our sakes +make her promise that even when— You're the only one who has any +influence over her."</p> + +<p>She rose, as if to wind up the painful interview, and the others rose, +too, with a multiplex rustling of silken skirts. He shook the six +jewelled hands as in a dream, and promised to do his best; and as he +watched the little procession of carriages roll off, it seemed to him +indeed a funeral, and his own.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>Ah God, that it should have come to this. Little Schnapsie could not +be happy till he was dead. Well, why should he keep her waiting? What +mattered the few odd years or months? He was already dead. There was +his funeral going down the street.</p> + +<p>To speak to Schnapsie he had never intended, even while he was +promising it. Those years of silent life together had made real +conversation impossible. The bridge on which his soul passed over to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>hers was a bridge over which hung a sacred silence. Under the weight +of words, especially of angry parental words, it might break down +forever. And that would be worse than death.</p> + +<p>No; little Schnapsie had her own life, and he somehow knew he had not +the right to question it, even though it seemed on the verge of deadly +sin. He could not have expressed it in logical speech, was not even +clearly conscious of it; but his tender relation with her had educated +him to a sense of her moral rightness, which now survived and +subsisted with his conviction that she was hopelessly astray. No, he +had not the right to interfere with her life, with her prospect of +happiness in her own way. He must give up living. Little Schnapsie +must be nearly thirty; the best of her youth was gone. She should be +happy with this strange man.</p> + +<p>But if he killed himself, that would bring disgrace on the family—and +little Schnapsie. Perhaps, too, Alfred would not marry her. Was there +no way of slipping quietly out of existence? But then suicide was +another deadly sin. If only that had really been his funeral +procession!</p> + +<p>"O God, God of Israel, tell me what to do!"</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p>A sudden inspiration leapt to his heart. She should not have to wait +for his death to be happy; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>he would <i>live</i> to see her happy. He would +pretend that her marriage cost him no pang; indeed, would not truly +the pang be swallowed up in the thought of her happiness? But <i>would</i> +she be happy? <i>Could</i> she be happy with this alien? Ah, there was the +chilling doubt! If a quarrel came, would not the man always throw it +in her face that she was a Jewess? Well, that must be left to herself. +She was old enough not to rush into misery. Through all these years he +had taken her pensive brow as the seat of all wisdom, her tender eyes +as the glow of all goodness, and he could not suddenly readjust +himself to a contradictory conception. By the time she came in he had +composed himself for his task.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear," he said, with a beaming smile, "I have heard the good +news."</p> + +<p>The answering smile died out of her eyes. She looked frightened.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, little Schnapsie," he said roguishly. "So now I shall +have seven sons-in-law. And Alfred the Second, eh?"</p> + +<p>"You have heard?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, pinching her ear. "Thinks she can keep anything from +her old father, does she?"</p> + +<p>"But do you know that he is a—a—"</p> + +<p>"A Christian? Of course. What's the difference, as long as he's a good +man, eh?" He laughed noisily.</p> + +<p>Little Schnapsie looked more frightened than ever. Were her father's +wits wandering at last?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>"But I thought—"</p> + +<p>"Thought I would want you to sacrifice yourself! No, no, my dear; we +are not in India, where women are burnt alive to please their dead +husbands."</p> + +<p>Little Schnapsie had an irrelevant vision of herself treading on +diamonds and gold. She murmured, "Who told you?"</p> + +<p>"Leah."</p> + +<p>"Leah! But Leah is angry about it!"</p> + +<p>"So she is. She came to me in a tantrum, but I told her whatever +little Schnapsie did was right."</p> + +<p>"Father!" With a sudden cry of belief and affection she fell on his +neck and kissed him. "But isn't the darling old Jew shocked?" she +said, half smiling, half weeping.</p> + +<p>Cunning lent him clairvoyance. "How much Judaism is there in your +sisters' husbands?" he said. "And without the religion, what is the +use of the race?"</p> + +<p>"Why, father, that's what I'm always preaching!" she cried, in +astonishment. "Think what our Judaism was in the dear old Portsmouth +days. What is the Sabbath here? A mockery. Not one of your sons-in-law +closes his business. But there, when the Sabbath came in, how +beautiful! Gradually it glided, glided; you heard the angel's wings. +Then its shining presence was upon you, and a holy peace settled over +the house."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes." His eyes filled with tears. He saw <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>the row of innocent +girl faces at the white Sabbath table. What had London and prosperity +brought him instead?</p> + +<p>"And then the Atonement days, when the ram's horn thrilled us with a +sense of sin and judgment, when we thought the heavenly scrolls were +being signed and sealed. Who feels that here, father? Some of us don't +even fast."</p> + +<p>"True, true." He forgot his part. "Then you are a good Jewess still?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head sadly. "We have outlived our destiny. Our isolation +is a meaningless relic."</p> + +<p>But she had kindled a new spark of hope.</p> + +<p>"Can't you bring him over to us?"</p> + +<p>"To what? To our empty synagogues?"</p> + +<p>"Then you are going over to him?" He tried to keep his voice steady.</p> + +<p>"I must; his father is an archdeacon."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," he said, though she might as well have said an +archangel.</p> + +<p>"But you do not believe in—in—"</p> + +<p>"I believe in self-sacrifice; that is Christianity."</p> + +<p>"Is it? I thought it was three Gods."</p> + +<p>"That is not the essential."</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" he said. Then he added hurriedly: "But will you be happy +with him? Such different bringing up! You can't really feel close to +him."</p> + +<p>She laughed and blushed. "There are deeper things than one's bringing +up, father."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>"But if after marriage you should have a quarrel, he would always +throw up to you that you are a Jewess."</p> + +<p>"No, Alfred will never do that."</p> + +<p>"Then make haste, little Schnapsie, or your old father won't live to +see you under the canopy."</p> + +<p>She smiled happily, believing him. "But there won't be any canopy," +she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, whatever it is," he laughed back, with horrid imagining +that it might be a Cross.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p>It was agreed between them that, to avoid endless family councils, the +sisters should not be told, and that the ceremony should be conducted +as privately as possible. The archdeacon himself was coming up to town +to perform the ceremony in the church of another of his sons in Chalk +Farm. After the short honeymoon, Daniel was to come and live with the +couple in Whitechapel, for they were to live in the centre of their +labours. Poor Daniel tried to find some comfort in the thought that +Whitechapel was a more Jewish and a homelier quarter than Highbury. +But the unhomely impression produced upon him by his latest son-in-law +neutralized everything. All his other sons-in-law had more or less +awed him, but beneath the awe ran a tunnel of brotherhood. With <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>this +Alfred, however, he was conscious of a glacial current, which not all +the young man's cordiality could tepefy.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure you will be happy with him, little Schnapsie?" he asked +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"You dear worrying old thing!"</p> + +<p>"But if after marriage you quarrel, he will always throw it up to you +that you are—"</p> + +<p>"And I'll throw it up to him that he is a Christian, and oughtn't to +quarrel."</p> + +<p>He was silenced. But his heart thanked God that his dear old wife had +been spared the coming ordeal.</p> + +<p>"This too was for good," he murmured, in the Hebrew proverb.</p> + +<p>And so the tragic day drew nigh.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>X</h4> + +<p>One short week before, Daniel was wandering about, dazed by the near +prospect. An unholy fascination drew him toward Chalk Farm, to gaze on +the church in which the profane union would be perpetrated. Perhaps he +ought even to go inside; to get over his first horror at being in such +a building, so as not to betray himself during the actual ceremony.</p> + +<p>As he drew near the heathen edifice he saw a striped awning, +carriages, a bustle of people entering, a pressing, peeping crowd. A +wedding!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>Ah, good! There was no doubt now he must go in; he would see what this +unknown ceremony in this unknown building was like. It would be a sort +of rehearsal; it would help to steel him at the tragic moment. He was +passing through the central doors with some other men, but a policeman +motioned them to a side door. He shuffled timidly within.</p> + +<p>Full as the church was, the chill stone spaces struck cold to his +heart; all the vast alien life they typified froze his soul. The dread +word <i>Meshumad</i>—apostate—seemed echoing and reëchoing from the cold +pillars. He perceived his companions had bared their heads, and he +hastily snatched off his rusty beaver. The unaccustomed sensation in +his scalp completed his sense of unholiness.</p> + +<p>Nothing seemed going on yet, but as he slipped into a seat in the +aisle he became aware of an organ playing joyous preludes, almost +jiggish. For a moment he wondered dully what there was to be gay +about, and his eyes filled with bitter tears.</p> + +<p>A craning forward in the nondescript congregation made the old man +peer forward.</p> + +<p>He saw, at the far end of the church, a sort of platform upon which +four men, in strange, flowing robes, stood under a cross. He hid his +eyes from the sight of the symbol that had overshadowed his ancestors' +lives. When he opened his eyes again the men were kneeling. Would <i>he</i> +have to kneel, he wondered. Would his old joints have to assume <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>that +pagan posture? Presently four bridesmaids, shielded by great glowing +bouquets, appeared on the platform, and descending, passed with +measured theatric pace down the farther avenue, too remote for his +clear vision. His neighbours stood up to stare at them, and he rose, +too. And throughout the organ bubbled out its playful cadenzas.</p> + +<p>A stir and a buzz swept through the church. A procession began to file +in. At its head was a pale, severe young man, supported by a cheerful +young man. Other young men followed; then the bridesmaids reappeared. +And finally—target of every glance—there passed a glory of white +veil supported by an old military looking man in a satin waistcoat.</p> + +<p>Ah, that would be he and Schnapsie, then. Up that long avenue, beneath +all these curious Christian eyes, he, Daniel Peyser, would have to +walk. He tried to rehearse it mentally now, so that he might not shame +her; he paced pompously and stiffly, with beautiful Schnapsie on his +arm, a glory of white veil. He saw himself slowly reaching the +platform, under the chilling cross; then everything swam before him, +and he sank shuddering into his seat. His little Schnapsie! She was +being sucked up into all this hateful heathendom, to the seductive +music of satanic orchestras.</p> + +<p>He sat in a strange daze, vaguely conscious that the organ had ceased, +and that some preacher's recitative had begun instead. When he looked +up <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>again, the bridal party before the altar loomed vague, as through +a mist. He passed his hand over his clouded brow. Of a sudden a +sentence of the recitative pierced sharply to his brain:—</p> + +<p>"Therefore if any man can show any just cause why they may not +lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter +forever hold his peace."</p> + +<p>O God of Israel! Then it was the last chance! He sprang to his feet, +and shouted in agony: "No, no, she must not marry him! She must not!"</p> + +<p>All heads turned toward the shabby old man. An electric shiver ran +through the church. The bride paled; a bridesmaid shrieked; the +minister, taken aback, stood silent. A white-gloved usher hurried up.</p> + +<p>"Do you forbid the banns?" called the minister.</p> + +<p>The old man's mind awoke, and groped mistily.</p> + +<p>"Come, what have you to say?" snapped the usher.</p> + +<p>"I—I—nothing," he murmured in awed confusion.</p> + +<p>"He is drunk," said the usher. "Out with you, my man." He hustled +Daniel toward the side door, and let it swing behind him.</p> + +<p>But Daniel shrank from facing the cordon of spectators outside. He +hung miserably about the vestibule till the Wedding March swelled in +ironic triumph, and the human outpour swept him into the street.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>XI</h4> + +<p>His abstracted look, his ragged talk, troubled Schnapsie at the +evening meal, but she could not elicit that anything had happened.</p> + +<p>In the evening paper, her eye, avid of marriage items, paused on a +big-headed paragraph.</p> + +<p class="cen">"I FORBID THE BANNS!"<br /> +STRANGE SCENE AT A CHALK FARM CHURCH.</p> + +<p>When she had finished the paragraph and read another, the first began +to come back to her, shadowed with a strange suspicion. Why, this was +the very church—? A Jewish-looking old man—! Great heavens! Then all +this had been mere pose, self-sacrifice. And his wits were straying +under the too heavy burden! Only blind craving for her own happiness +could have made her believe that the mental habits of seventy years +could be broken off.</p> + +<p>"Well, father," she said brightly, "you will be losing me very soon +now."</p> + +<p>His lips quivered into a pathetic smile.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad." He paused, struggling with himself. "If you are sure +you will be happy!"</p> + +<p>"But haven't we talked that over enough, father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—but you know—if a quarrel arose, he would always throw it +up—that—"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, nonsense," she laughed. But the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>repetition of the old +thought struck her poignantly as a sign of maundering wits.</p> + +<p>"And you are sure you will get along together?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure."</p> + +<p>"Then I am glad." He drew her to him, and kissed her.</p> + +<p>She broke down and wept under the conviction of his lying. He became +the comforter in his turn.</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, little Schnapsie, don't cry. I didn't mean to frighten +you. Alfred is a good man, and I am sure, even if you quarrel, he will +never throw it—" The mumbling passed into a kiss on her wet cheek.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XII</h4> + +<p>That night, after a long passionate vigil in her bedroom, little +Schnapsie wrote a letter:—</p> + +<div class="block"><p>"<span class="sc">Dearest Alfred</span>,—This will be as painful for you to +read as for me to write. I find at the eleventh hour I cannot +marry you. I owe it to you to state my reason. As you know, I +did not consent to our love being crowned by union till my +father had given his consent. I now find that this consent was +not the free outcome of my father's soul, that it was only to +promote my happiness. Try to imagine what it means for an old +man of seventy odd years to wrench himself away from all his +life-long prejudices, and you will realize what he has been +trying to do for me. But the wrench was beyond his strength. He +is breaking his heart over it, and, I fear, even wandering in +his mind.</p> + +<p>"You will say, let us again consent to wait for a contingency +which I am not cold-blooded enough to set down more openly. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>But +I do not think it is fair to you to let you risk your happiness +further by keeping it entangled with mine. A new current of +thought has been set going in my mind. If a religion that I +thought all formalism is capable of producing such types of +abnegation as my dear father, then it must, too, somewhere or +other, hold in solution all those ennobling ingredients, all +those stimuli to self-sacrifice, which the world calls +Christian. Perhaps I have always misunderstood. We were so badly +taught. Perhaps the prosaic epoch of Judaism into which I was +born is only transitional, perhaps it only belongs to the middle +classes, for I know I felt more of its poetry in my childhood; +perhaps the future will develop (or recultivate) its diviner +sides and lay more stress upon the life beautiful, and thus all +this blind instinct of isolation may prove only the conservation +of the race for its nobler future, when it may still become, in +very truth, a witness to the Highest, a chosen people in whom +all the families of the earth may be blessed. I do not know; all +this is very confused and chaotic to me to-night. I only know I +can hold out no certain hope of the earthly fulfilment of our +love. I, too, feel in transition, and I know not to what. But, +dearest Alfred, shall we not be living the Christian life—the +life of abnegation—more truly if we give up the hope of +personal happiness? Forgive me, darling, the pain I am causing +you, and thus help me to bear my own.</p> + +<p class="right"><span style="padding-right: 5%;">"Your friend till death,</span><br /> +"<span class="sc">Florence.</span>"</p></div> + +<br /> + +<p>It was an hour past midnight ere the letter was finished, and when it +was sealed a sense of relief at remaining in the Jewish fold stole +over her, though she would scarcely acknowledge it to herself, and +impatiently analyzed it away as hereditary. And despite it, if she +slept on the letter, would it ever be posted?</p> + +<p>But the house was sunk in darkness. She was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>the only creature +stirring. And yet she yearned to have the thing over, irrevocable. +Perhaps she might venture out herself with her latch-key. There was a +letter-box at the street corner. She lit a candle and stole out on the +landing, casting a monstrous shadow which frightened her. In her +over-wrought mood it almost seemed an uncanny creature grinning at +her. Her mother's death-bed rose suddenly before her; her mother's +voice cried: "Ah, Florrie, do not fret. I will find thee a +bridegroom." Was this the bridegroom—was this the only one she would +ever know?</p> + +<p>"Father! father!" she shrieked, with sudden terror.</p> + +<p>A door was thrown open; a figure shambled forth in carpet slippers—a +dear, homely, reassuring figure—holding the coloured handkerchief +which had helped to banish him from the drawing-room. His face was +smeared; his eyelids under the pushed-up horn spectacles were red: he, +too, had kept vigil.</p> + +<p>"What is it? What is it, little Schnapsie?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I—I—I only wanted to ask you if you would be good enough +to post this letter—to-night."</p> + +<p>"Good enough? Why, I shall enjoy a breath of air."</p> + +<p>He took the letter and essayed a roguish laugh as his eye caught the +superscription.</p> + +<p>"Ho! ho!" He pinched her cheek. "So we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>mustn't let a day pass without +writing to him, eh?"</p> + +<p>She quivered under this unforeseen misconception.</p> + +<p>"No," she echoed, with added firmness, "we mustn't let a day pass."</p> + +<p>"But go to bed at once, little Schnapsie. You look quite pale. If you +stay up so late writing him letters, you won't make him a beautiful +bride."</p> + +<p>"No," she repeated, "I won't make him a beautiful bride."</p> + +<p>She heard the hall door close gently upon his cautious footsteps, and +her eyes dimmed with divine tears as she thought of the joy that +awaited his return.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>III</h2> + +<h2>NOAH'S ARK</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<a name="III" id="III"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>III<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>NOAH'S ARK</h3> + +<br /> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>On a summer's day toward the close of the first quarter of the +nineteenth century after Christ, Peloni walked in "the good place" of +the Frankfort <i>Judengasse</i> and pondered. At times he came to a +standstill and appeared to study the inscriptions on the tumbled +tombstones, or the carven dragons, shields, and stars, but his black +eyes burnt inward and he saw less the tragedy of Jewish death than the +tragedy of Jewish life.</p> + +<p>For "the good place" was the place of death.</p> + +<p>Here alone in Frankfort—in this shut-in bit of the shut-in +Jew-street—was true peace for Israel. The rest of the Jew-street +offered comparative tranquillity even for the living; yet when, ninety +years before Peloni was born, the great fire had raged therein, the +inhabitants had locked the Ghetto-gate against the Christians, less +fearful of the ravaging flames than of their fellow-citizens. Even +to-day, if he ventured outside the <i>Judengasse</i>, Peloni must tread +delicately. The foot-path was not for him: he must plod on the dusty +road, with all the other <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>beasts. In some places the very road was too +holy for him, and any passer-by might snatch off his hat in punishment +for his breaking bounds. The ragged street urchin or the staggering +drunkard might cry to him "<i>'Jud,' mach mores</i>: Jew, mind your +manners."</p> + +<p>Some ten years ago the Frankfort Ghetto had been verbally abolished by +a civilized archduke, caught up in the wave of Napoleonic toleration. +Peloni had shared in the exultation of the Jews at the final +dissipation of the long night of mediævalism. He had written a Hebrew +poem on it, brilliantly rhymed, congested with apt quotations from +Bible and Talmud, the whole making an acrostic upon the name of the +enlightened Karl Theodor von Dalberg. Henceforth Israel would take his +place among the peoples, honour on his brow, love in his heart, +manhood in his limbs. A gracious letter of acknowledgment from the +archduke was displayed in the window of Peloni's little bookselling +establishment, amid the door-amulets, phylacteries, praying-shawls, +Purim-scrolls, and Hebrew volumes.</p> + +<p>But now the prince had been ousted, Napoleon was dead, everywhere the +Ghetto-gates were locked again, and the Poem lay stacked on the +remainder shelves. In vain had the grateful Jews hastened to fight for +the Fatherland, tendered it body and soul. Poor little curly-haired +Peloni had been attacked in the streets as an alien that very morning. +Roysterers <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>had raised the old cry of "Hep! Hep!"—fatal, immemorial +cry, ghastly heritage of the Crusades. Century after century that cry +had gone echoing through Europe. Century after century the Jews +thought they had lived it down, bought it down, died it down. But no! +it rose again, buoyant, menacing, irresponsible. Ah, what a fool he +had been to hope! There was no hope.</p> + +<p>Rarely, indeed, since the Dark Ages had persecution flaunted itself so +openly. Riots and massacres were breaking out all over Germany, and in +his own Ghetto Peloni had seen sights that had turned his patriotism +to gall, and crushed his trust in the Christian, his beautiful +bubble-dreams of the Millennium. Rothschild himself, whose house in +the <i>Judengasse</i> with the sign of the red shield had been the centre +of the attack, was well-nigh unable to maintain his position in the +town. And these local successes inflamed the Jew-haters everywhere. +"Let the children of Israel be sold to the English," recommended a +popular pamphlet of the period, "who could employ them in their Indian +plantations instead of the blacks. The best plan would be to purge the +land entirely of this vermin, either by exterminating them, or, as +Pharaoh, and the people of Meiningen, Würzburg, and Frankfort did, by +driving them from the country."</p> + +<p>"Oh, God!" thought Peloni, as his mind ran over the long chain from +Pharaoh to Frankfort. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>"Evermore to wander, stoned and derided! Thou +hast set a mark on his forehead, but his punishment is greater than he +can bear."</p> + +<p>The dead lay all around him, one upon another, new red stones +shouldering aside the gray stones that told to boot of the death of +the centuries. And the pressure of all this struggle for death-room +had raised the earth higher than the adjacent paths. He thought of how +these dead had always come here; even in their lifetime, when the +enemy raged outside. Here they had put the women and children and gone +back to the synagogue to pray. Ah, the cowards! always oscillating +betwixt cemetery and synagogue, why did they not live, why did they +not fight? Yes, but they had fought,—fought for Germany, and this was +Germany's reply.</p> + +<p>But could they not fight for themselves then, with money, with the +sinews of war, if not with the weapons; with gold, if not with steel? +could they not join financial forces all through the world? But no! +There was no such solidarity as the Christians dreamed. And they were +too mixed up with the European world to dream of self-concentration. +Even while the Frankfort Rothschild's house was surrounded by rioters, +the Paris Rothschild was giving a ball to the <i>élite</i> of diplomatic +society.</p> + +<p>No! the old Jews were right—there was only the synagogue and the +cemetery.</p> + +<p>But was there even the synagogue? That, too, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>was dead. The living +faith, the vivid realization of Israel's hope, which had made the Dark +Ages endurable and even luminous, were only to be found now among +fanatics whose blind ignorance and fierce clinging to the dead letter +and the obsolete form counterbalanced the poetry and sublimity of +their persistence. In the Middle Ages, Peloni felt, his poems would +have been absorbed into the liturgy. For when the liturgy and the +religion were alive, they took in and gave out—like all living +things. But no—the synagogue of to-day was dead.</p> + +<p>Remained only the cemetery.</p> + +<p>"<i>Jude, verrek!</i>" Jew, die like a beast.</p> + +<p>Yes, what else was there to do? For he was not even a Rothschild, he +told himself with whimsical anguish; only a poor poet, unread, +unknown, unhealthy; a shadow that only found substance to suffer; a +set of heart-strings across which every wind that blew made a +poignant, passionate music; a lamentation incarnate, a voice of +weeping in the wilderness, a bubble blown of tears, a dream, a mist, a +nobody,—in short, Peloni!</p> + +<p>The dead generations drew him. He fell, weeping passionately, upon a +tomb.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>There seemed an unwonted stir in the <i>Judengasse</i> when Peloni returned +to it. Was there another riot <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>threatening? he thought, as he passed +along the narrow street of three-storied frame houses, most of them +gabled, and all marked by peculiar signs and figures—the Bear or the +Lion or the Garlic or the Red Shield (<i>Rothschild</i>)!</p> + +<p>Outside the synagogue loitered a crowd, and as he drew near he +perceived that there was a long Proclamation in a couple of folio +sheets nailed on the door. It was doubtless this which was being +discussed by the little groups he had already noted. About the +synagogue door the throng was so thick that he could not get near +enough to read it himself. But fortunately some one was engaged in +reading it aloud for the benefit of those on the outskirts.</p> + +<p>"'Wherefore I, Mordecai Manuel Noah, Citizen of the United States of +America, late Consul of said States to the City and Kingdom of Tunis, +High Sheriff of New York, Counsellor-at-Law, and by the Grace of God +Governor and Judge of Israel, have issued this my proclamation.'"</p> + +<p>A derisive laugh from a dwarfish figure in the crowd interrupted the +reading. "Father Noah come to life again!" It was the <i>Possemacher</i>, +or wedding-jester, who was not sparing of his wit, even when not +professionally engaged.</p> + +<p>"A foreigner—an American!" sneered a more serious voice. "Who made +him ruler in Israel?"</p> + +<p>"That's what the wicked Israelite asked Moses!" cried Peloni, +curiously excited.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>"<i>Nun, nun!</i> Go on!" cried others.</p> + +<p>"'Announcing to the Jews throughout the world, that an asylum is +prepared and hereby offered to them, where they can enjoy that Peace, +Comfort, and Happiness which have been denied them through the +intolerance and misgovernment of former ages. An asylum in a free and +powerful country, where ample protection is secured to their persons, +their property, and religious rights; an asylum in a country +remarkable for its vast resources, the richness of its soil, and the +salubrity of its climate; where industry is encouraged, education +promoted, and good faith rewarded. "A land of Milk and Honey," where +Israel may repose in Peace, under his "Vine and Fig tree," and where +our People may so familiarize themselves with the science of +government and the lights of learning and civilization, as may qualify +them for that great and final Restoration to their ancient heritage, +which the times so powerfully indicate.'"</p> + +<p>The crowd had grown attentive. Peloni's face was pale as death. What +was this great thing, fallen so unexpectedly from the impassive heaven +his hopelessness had challenged?</p> + +<p>But the <i>Possemacher</i> captured the moment. "Father Noah's drunk +again!"</p> + +<p>A great laugh shook the crowd. But Peloni dug his nails into his +palms. "Read on! Read on!" he cried hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"'The Place of Refuge is in the State of New <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>York, the largest in the +American Union, and the spot to which I invite my beloved People from +the whole world is called Grand Island.'"</p> + +<p>Peloni drew a deep breath. His face had now changed to the other +extreme and was flushed with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Noah's Ark!" shot the <i>Possemacher</i> dryly, and had his audience +swaying hysterically.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, brethren!" cried Peloni. "This is no joke. Have you +forgotten already that here we are only animals?"</p> + +<p>"And they went in two by two," said the <i>Possemacher</i>, "the clean +beasts, and the unclean beasts!"</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, let us hear!" from some of the crowd.</p> + +<p>"'Here I am resolved to lay the foundation of a State, named Ararat.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah! what did I say?" the exultant <i>Possemacher</i> shrieked at Peloni.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the crowd. "Noah's Ark resting on Ararat!" The +dullest saw that.</p> + +<p>Peloni was taken aback for a moment.</p> + +<p>"But why should not the place of Israel's Ark of Refuge be named +Ararat?" he asked of his neighbours.</p> + +<p>"If only his name wasn't Noah!" they answered.</p> + +<p>"That makes it even more appropriate," he murmured.</p> + +<p>But "Noah's Ark" was the nickname that kills. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>Though the reader +continued, it was only to an audience exhilarated by a sense of +Arabian Nights fantasy. But the elaborate description of the grandeurs +of this Grand Island, and the eloquent passages about the Century of +Right, and the ancient Oracles, restored Peloni's enthusiasm to fever +heat.</p> + +<p>"It is too long," said the reader, wearying at last.</p> + +<p>Peloni rushed forward and took up the task. The first sentence exalted +him still further.</p> + +<p>"'In God's name I revive, renew, and reëstablish the government of the +Jewish Nation, under the auspices and protection of the Constitution +and the Laws of the United States, confirming and perpetuating all our +Rights and Privileges, our Name, our Rank, and our Power among the +nations of the Earth, as they existed and were recognized under the +government of the Judges of Israel.'" Peloni's voice shook with +fervour. As he began the next sentence, "'It is my will,'" he +stretched out his hand with an involuntary regal gesture. The spirit +of Noah was entering into him, and he felt almost as if it was he who +was re-creating the Jewish nation—"'It is my will that a Census of +the Jews throughout the world be taken, that those who are well +treated and wish to remain in their respective countries shall aid +those who wish to go; that those who are in military service shall +until further orders remain true and loyal to their rulers.</p> + +<p>"'I command'"—Peloni read the words with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>expansive magnificence, his +poet's soul vibrating to that other royal dreamer's across the great +Atlantic—"'that a strict Neutrality be maintained in the pending war +betwixt Greece and Turkey.</p> + +<p>"'I abolish forever'"—Peloni's hand swept the air,—"'Polygamy among +the Jews.'"</p> + +<p>"But where have we polygamy?" interrupted the <i>Possemacher</i>.</p> + +<p>"'As it is still practised in Africa and Asia,'" read on Peloni +severely.</p> + +<p>"I'm off at once for Africa and Asia!" cried the marriage-jester, +pretending to run. "Good business for me there."</p> + +<p>"You'll find better business in America," said Peloni scathingly. "For +do not all our Austrian young men fly thither to marry, seeing that at +home only the eldest son may found a family? A pretty fatherland +indeed to be a citizen of—a step-fatherland. Listen, on the contrary, +to the noble tolerance of the Jew. 'Christians are freely invited.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah! Do you know who'll go?" broke in a narrow-faced zealot. "The +missionaries."</p> + +<p>Peloni continued hastily: "'Ararat is open, too, to the Caraites and +the Samaritans. The Black Jews of India and Africa shall be welcome; +our brethren in Cochin-China and the sect on the coast of Malabar; all +are welcome.'"</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed a burly Jew. "So we're to live with the blacks. +Enough of this joke!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>But Peloni went on solemnly: "'A Capitation-tax on every Jew of Three +Silver Shekels per annum—'"</p> + +<p>"Ah, now we have got to it!" and a great roar broke from the crowd. +"Not a bad <i>Geschäft</i>, eh?" and they winked. "He is no fool, this +Noah."</p> + +<p>Peloni's blood boiled. "Do you believe everybody is like yourselves?" +he cried. "Listen!"</p> + +<p>"'I do appoint the first day of next Adar for a Thanksgiving Day to +the God of Israel, for His divine protection and the fulfilment of His +promises to the House of Israel. I recommend Peace and Union among +ourselves, Charity and Good-will to all, Toleration and Liberality +toward our Brethren of all Religions—'"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I say a missionary in disguise?" murmured the zealot.</p> + +<p>Peloni ended, with tremulous emotion: "'I humbly entreat to be +remembered in your prayers, and earnestly do I enjoin you to "keep the +charge of the Holy God," to walk in His ways, to keep His Statutes and +His commandments and His judgments and Testimonies, as written in the +Laws of Moses; "that thou mayest prosper in all thou doest and +whithersoever thou turnest thyself."</p> + +<p>"'Given under our hand and seal in the State of New York, on the 2d of +Ab 5586 in the Fiftieth Year of American Independence.'"</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>Peloni's efforts to organize a company of pilgrims to the New +Jerusalem brought him only heart-ache. The very rabbi who had +good-naturedly consented to circulate the fantastic foreigner's +invitation, tapped his forehead significantly: "A visionary! of good +intentions, doubtless, but still—a visionary. Besides, according to +our dogmas, God alone knows the epoch of the Israelitish restoration; +He alone will make it known to the whole universe, by signs entirely +unequivocal; and every attempt on our part to reassemble with any +political, national design, is forbidden as an act of high treason +against the Divine Majesty. Mr. Noah has doubtless forgotten that the +Israelites, faithful to the principles of their belief, are too much +attached to the countries where they dwell, and devoted to the +governments under which they enjoy liberty and protection, not to +treat as a mere jest the chimerical consulate of a pseudo-restorer."</p> + +<p>"Noah's a madman, and you're an infant," Peloni's friends told him.</p> + +<p>"Since the destruction of the Temple," he quoted in retort, "the gift +of prophecy has been confined to children and fools."</p> + +<p>"You are giving up a decent livelihood," they warned him. "You are +throwing it into the Atlantic."</p> + +<p>"'Cast thy bread upon the waters and it shall return to thee after +many days.'"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>"But in the meantime?"</p> + +<p>"'Man doth not live by bread alone.'"</p> + +<p>"As you please. But don't ask <i>us</i> to throw up our comfortable home +here."</p> + +<p>"Comfortable home!" and Peloni grew almost apoplectic as he reminded +them of their miseries.</p> + +<p>"Persecution?" They shrugged their shoulders. "It comes only now and +again, like a snow-storm, and we crawl through it."</p> + +<p>"That's just it—the lack of manliness—the poisoned atmosphere!"</p> + +<p>"Bah! The <i>Goyim</i> refuse us equal rights because they know we're their +superiors. Let us not jump from the frying-pan into the fire."</p> + +<p>So Peloni sailed for New York alone.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>He was rather disappointed to find no other pilgrim even on the ship. +True, there was one Jew, but the business Paradise of New York was his +goal across this waste of waters, and of Noah's Ark he had never +heard. Peloni's panegyric of Grand Island was rendered ineffective by +his own nebulous conception of its commercial possibilities. He passed +the slow days in the sailing-vessel polishing up his English, the +literature of which he had long studied.</p> + +<p>In New York Peloni's hopes revived. Major <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>Noah—for it appeared he +was an officer of militia likewise—was in everybody's mouth. Editor +of the <i>National Advocate</i>, the leading organ of the Bucktails, or +Tammany party, a journalist whose clever sallies and humorous +paragraphs were widely enjoyed, an author of excellent "Travels," a +playwright of the first distinction, whose patriotic dramas were +always given on the Fourth of July, a critic regarded as Sir Oracle, a +politician, lawyer, and man of the world, a wit, the gay centre of +every gathering—surely in this lion of New York, who was also the +Lion of David, Israel had at last found a deliverer. They called him +madman down in Frankfort, did they? Well, let them come here and see.</p> + +<p>He wrote home to the scoffers of the <i>Judengasse</i> all the information +about the great man that was in the very air of the American city, +though the man himself he had only as yet corresponded with. He told +the famous story of how when Noah was canvassing for the office of +High Sheriff of New York, it was urged that no Jew should be put into +an office where he might have to hang a Christian, to which Noah had +retorted wittily, "Pretty Christian, to have to be hanged!" "And you +all fancied 'Father Noah' would fall to pieces before the +<i>Possemacher's</i> wit!" Peloni commented with vengeful satisfaction. "I +rejoice to say that Noah will never have anything to do with a +<i>Possemacher</i>, for he is President of the Old Bachelors' Club, the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>members of which are pledged never to marry." He told of Noah's +adventurous career: of how when he was a mere boy clerk in the +auditor's office of his native Philadelphia, Congress had voted him a +hundred dollars for his precocious preparation of the actuary tables +for the eight-per-cent loan; of the three duels at Charleston, in +which he had vindicated at once the courage of the Jew and the policy +of American resistance to Great Britain; of his consulate in Tunis, +his capture at sea by the British fleet during the war, his release on +parole that enabled him to travel about England; of his genius for +letters—a very David in Israel; of his generosity to hundreds of +strugglers; of his quixotic disdain of money; of his impoverishing +himself by paying two hundred thousand dollars of other people's debts +as the price of his impulsive shrieval action in throwing open the +doors of the Debtor's Jail when the yellow fever broke out within. +"Yes," wrote Peloni exultantly, "in New York they talk no more of +Shylock. And with all the temptations to Christian fellowship or Pagan +free-living, a pillar of the synagogue,—nay, Israel's one hope in all +the world!"</p> + +<p>It was a wonderful moment when Peloni, at last invited to call on the +Judge of Israel, palpitated on the threshold of his study and gazed +blinkingly at the great man enthroned before his writing-table amid +elegant vistas of books and paintings. What a noble poetic vision it +seemed to him: the broad <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>brow, with the tumbled hair; the long, +delicate-featured face tapering to a narrow chin environed with +whiskers, but clean of beard or even of mustache, so that the mobile, +sensitive mouth was laid bare. Peloni's glance also took in a handsome +black coat, with a decoration on the lapel, a high-peaked collar, a +black puffy bow, a frilled shirt, and a very broad jewelled cuff over +a white, long-fingered hand, that held a tall quill with a great +breadth of feather.</p> + +<p>"Ah, come in," said the Governor of Israel, waving his quill. "You are +Peloni of Frankfort."</p> + +<p>"Come three thousand miles to kiss the hem of your garment."</p> + +<p>Noah permitted the attention. "I am obliged to you for your Hebrew +poem in honour of my project," he said urbanely. "I approve of +Hebrew—it is a link that binds us to our forefathers. I am myself +editing a translation of the Book of Jasher."</p> + +<p>"You will have found my verses a very poor expression of your divine +ideas."</p> + +<p>"You use a difficult Hebrew. But the general drift seemed to show you +had caught the greatness of my conception."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes! I have lived in <i>Judengasse</i>, oppressed and derided."</p> + +<p>"But there is worse than oppression—there is inward stagnation of the +spiritual life. My idea came to me in Tunis, where the Jews are little +oppressed. You know President Madison appointed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>me consul of the +United States for the city and kingdom of Tunis, one of the most +respectable and interesting stations in the regencies of Barbary. I +had long desired to visit the country of Dido and Hannibal, to trace +the field of Zama, and seek out the ruins of Utica,—whose sites I +believe I have now successfully established,—but it was my main +design to investigate the condition of the Barbary Jews, of whom, you +will remember, we have no account later than Benjamin of Tudela's in +the thirteenth century. But do not stand—take a chair. Well, I found +our brethren—to the number of seven hundred thousand—controlling +everything in Barbary, farming the revenue, regulating the coinage, +keeping the Dey's jewels and almost his person,—in short, anything +but persecuted, though, of course, the majority were miserably poor. +They did not know I was a Jew—though Secretary Monroe recalled me +because I was, and it was Monroe's doctrine that Judaism would be an +obstacle to the discharge of my functions. Absurd! The Catholic priest +was allowed to sprinkle the Consulate with holy water: the barefooted +Franciscan received an alms, nor did I fail to acknowledge by a +donation the decorated branch sent on Palm Sunday by the Greek Bishop. +And as for the slaves, I assure you they were not backward in coming +to ask favours. The only people who never came to me were precisely +the Jews. I went about among them incognito, so to speak, like Haroun +Alraschid among <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>his subjects; hence I was able to see all the evils +that will never be eliminated till Israel is again a nation."</p> + +<p>"Ah! your words are the words of wisdom. You touch the root of the +evil. It is what I have always told them."</p> + +<p>Noah rose to his feet, displaying a royal stature in harmony with his +broad shoulders. "Yes, I resolved it should be mine to elevate my +people, to make them hold up their heads worthily in this century of +freedom and enlightenment."</p> + +<p>"It is the Ark of the Convenant, as well as of the Deluge, which will +rest on Ararat!"</p> + +<p>"True—and like the first Noah, I may become the progenitor of a new +world. I have communications from the four corners of the earth. You +are the type of thousands who will flee from the rotting tyrannies of +Europe into the great free republic which I shall direct."</p> + +<p>He began to pace the room. Peloni had visions of great black lines of +pilgrims converging from every quarter of the compass.</p> + +<p>"But this Grand Island—is it yours?" he inquired timidly.</p> + +<p>"I have bought thousands of acres of it—I and a few others who +believe in the great future of our people."</p> + +<p>"Jews?"</p> + +<p>"No, not Jews—capitalists who know that we <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>shall become the +commercial centre of the new world,—that is, of the world of the +future."</p> + +<p>Peloni groaned. "And Jews will not believe? We must go to the +Gentiles. Jews will only put their money into Gentile schemes; will +build always for others, never for themselves. It is the same +everywhere. Alas for Israel!"</p> + +<p>"It is what I preach. Why administer Barbary for a savage Dey when you +can administer Grand Island for yourself? Seven hundred thousand Jews +in savage Barbary, and throughout these vast free States not seven +thousand. Ah, but they will come; they will come. Ararat will gather +its millions."</p> + +<p>"But will there be room?"</p> + +<p>"The State of New York," replied Noah, impressively, "is the largest +in the Union, containing forty-three thousand two hundred and fourteen +square miles divided into fifty-five counties and having six thousand +and eighty-seven post-towns and cities together with six million acres +of cultivated land. The constitution is founded on equality of rights. +We recognize no religious differences. In our seven thousand free +schools and gymnasia, four hundred thousand children of every religion +are being educated. Here in this great and progressive State the long +wandering of my beloved people shall end."</p> + +<p>"But Grand Island itself?" murmured Peloni feebly.</p> + +<p>"Come here," and Noah unrolled a great map. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>"See, how nobly it is +situated in the Niagara River, near the world-famed Falls, which will +supply water-power for our machinery. It is twelve miles long and from +three to seven broad, and contains seventeen thousand acres. Lake Erie +is two hundred and seventy miles long and borders New York, +Pennsylvania, and Ohio, as well as Canada. And see! by navigable +streams this great lake is connected with all that wonderful chain of +lakes. By short canals we shall connect with the Illinois and +Mississippi, and trade with New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico. +Through the Ontario—see here!—we traffic with Quebec, Montreal, and +touch the great Atlantic. The Niagara Falls, as I said, turn our +machinery. The fur trade, the lumber trade, all is ours. Our cattle +multiply, our lands wave with harvests. We are the centre of the +world, the capital of the future. And look! See what the <i>Albany +Gazette</i> says: 'Here the Hebrews can have their Jerusalem without +fearing the legions of Titus. Here they can erect their Temple without +dreading the torches of frenzied soldiers. Here they can lay their +heads on their pillows at night without fear of mobs, of bigotry and +persecution.'"</p> + +<p>Peloni drew a long breath, enraptured by this holy El Dorado, +sparkling on the map, amid its tributary lakes and rivers.</p> + +<p>"You will see the eighteenth chapter of Isaiah fulfilled," Noah went +on. "For what is the 'land <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>shadowing with wings, which is beyond the +rivers of Ethiopia,' which shall send messengers to a nation scattered +and peeled? What but America, shadowing us with the wings of its +eagle? As it is written elsewhere, 'I will bear thee on eagle's +wings.' It is true the English Bible translates 'Woe to the land,' but +this is a mistranslation. It should be 'Hail to the land!' Also the +word '<i>goumey</i>' they translate 'bulrushes'—'that sendeth messengers +in vessels of bulrushes!' But does not '<i>goumey</i>' also mean 'rush, +impetus?' And is it not therefore a prophecy of those new +steam-vessels that are beginning to creep up, one of which has just +crossed from England to India? Erelong they will be running between +America and all the world. It is the Lord making ready for the easy +ingathering of His people. Ay, and along these lakes"—the Prophet's +finger swept the map—"will be heard the panting of mighty +steam-monsters, all making for Ararat. By the way, Ararat lies here," +and he indicated a spot of the island opposite Tonawanda on the +mainland.</p> + +<p>Peloni bent down and poetically pressed his lips to the spot, like +Jehuda Halevi kissing the holy soil.</p> + +<p>"There is no one in possession there?" he inquired anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Maybe a few Iroquois Indians," said Noah. "But they will not have to +be turned out like the Hittites and Amorites and Jebusites by our +ancestors."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>"No?" murmured Peloni.</p> + +<p>"Of course not. They are our own brothers, carried away by the King of +Assyria. There can be not the slightest doubt that the Red Indians are +the Lost Ten Tribes of Israel."</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Peloni, vastly excited.</p> + +<p>"I shall publish a book on the subject. Yes, in worship, dialect, +language, sacrifices, marriages, divorces, burials, fastings, +purifications, punishments, cities of refuge, divisions of tribes, +High-Priests, wars, triumphs—'tis our very tradition."</p> + +<p>"Then I suppose one could lodge with them. I am anxious to settle in +Ararat at once."</p> + +<p>"You can scarcely settle there till the forest is cleared," said the +great man, arching his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"The forest!" repeated Peloni, taken aback.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are dismayed. You are a European, accustomed to ready-made +cities. We Americans, we change continents while you wait, build up +Aladdin's palaces over-night. As soon as I can manage to go over the +ground I will plan out the city."</p> + +<p>"You haven't been there yet?" gasped Peloni.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear Peloni. When should I find time to travel all the way to +Buffalo,—a busy editor, lawyer, playwright, what not? True, the time +that other men give to domestic happiness the President of the Old +Bachelors' Club is able to give to his fellow-men. But the slow canal +voyage—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>At this moment there was a knock at the door, and a servant inquired +if Major Noah could see his tailor.</p> + +<p>"Ah, a good augury!" cried the major. "Here is the tailor come to try +on my Robe of Governor and Judge of Israel."</p> + +<p>The man bore an elaborate robe of crimson silk trimmed with ermine, +which he arranged about Noah's portly person, making marks with pins +and chalk where it could be made to fit better.</p> + +<p>"Do you like it?" said Noah, puffing himself out regally.</p> + +<p>Peloni's uneasiness vanished. Doubt was impossible before these +magnificent realities. Ah! the Americans were wonderful.</p> + +<p>"I had to go through our annals," Noah explained, "to find which +period of our government we could revive. Kingship was opposed to the +sentiment of these States: in the epoch of the Judges I found my +ideal. Indeed, what is the President of the United States but a +<i>Shophet</i>, a Judge of Israel? Ah, you are looking at that painting of +me—I shall have to be done again in my new robes. That elegant +creature who hangs beside me is Miss Leesugg, the Hebe of English +actresses, as she appeared in my 'She would be a Soldier, or the +Plains of Chippewa.' There is a caricature of my uncle, Aaron J. +Phillips, as the Turkish Commander in my 'Grecian Captive.' Dear me, +shall I ever forget how he tumbled off that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>elephant! Ha! ha! ha! +That is Miss Johnson, in my 'Yusef Carmatti, or the Siege of Tripoli.' +The black and white is a fancy sketch of 'Marion, or the Hero of Lake +George,' a play I wrote for the reopening of the Park Theatre and to +celebrate the evacuation of New York by the British in 1783."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I was there, Major," said the tailor. "It was bully. But the +house was so full of generals and colonels you could hardly hear a +word."</p> + +<p>"Fortunately for me," laughed Noah. "Yes, I asked them to come in full +uniform for the <i>éclat</i> of the occasion. Which reminds me—here is a +ticket for you."</p> + +<p>"For the play?" murmured Peloni, as he took it.</p> + +<p>Noah started and looked at him keenly. But his flush of anger faded +before Peloni's innocent eyes. "No, no," he explained; "for the +opening ceremony of the foundation of Ararat."</p> + +<p>Peloni's black eyes shone.</p> + +<p>"There will be a great crush and only ticket-holders can be admitted +into the church."</p> + +<p>"Into the church!" echoed Peloni, paling.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Judge of Israel impressively, as he stood before a +glass to adjust the graceful folds of his crimson robe. "Our +fellow-citizens in Buffalo have been good enough to lend us the +Episcopal Church for the ceremony."</p> + +<p>"What ceremony?" he faltered, as horrid images <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>swept before him, and +he heard all the way from Frankfort the taunting cry of "Missionary!"</p> + +<p>"The laying of the foundation-stone of Ararat."</p> + +<p>"Laying the foundation-stone in a church!" Peloni was puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said the Major, misunderstanding him; "it seems strange to you, +nursed in the musty lap of Europe. But here in this land of freedom +and this century of enlightenment all men are brothers."</p> + +<p>"But surely the foundation-stone should be laid on Grand Island."</p> + +<p>"It would have been desirable. But so many will wish to be present at +this great celebration. Buffalo alone has some thirteen hundred +inhabitants. How should we get them across? There are scarcely any +boats to be had—and Ararat is twelve miles away. No, no, it is better +to hold our ceremony in Buffalo. It is, after all, only a symbolism. +The corner-stone is already being inscribed in Hebrew and English. +'Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God. Ararat, a City of Refuge for the +Jews, founded by Mordecai M. Noah in the month Tishri, corresponding +with September, 1825, in the fiftieth year of American Independence.'"</p> + +<p>The sonorous recitation by the <i>Shophet</i> in his crimson and ermine +robe somewhat restored Peloni's equanimity.</p> + +<p>"But when will the actual city be begun?" he asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>The <i>Shophet</i> waved his hand airily. "A matter of days."</p> + +<p>"But are you sure we can build there?"</p> + +<p>"Look at the map. Here is Grand Island—ours! Here is the site of +Ararat. It is all as plain as a pikestaff. And, talking of pikestaffs, +it would not be a bad idea to plant a staff on Ararat with the flag of +Israel."</p> + +<p>Peloni took fire: "Yes, yes, let me go and plant it. I'll journey +night and day."</p> + +<p>"You shall plant it," said the <i>Shophet</i> graciously. "Yes, I'll have +the flag made at once. The property man at the Park Theatre will +attend to it for me. The Lion of Judah and seven stars."</p> + +<p>"It shall be waving on Grand Island before you open the celebration in +Buffalo."</p> + +<p>Peloni went out like a lion, his head in the seven stars. Could it be +possible that to him—Peloni—had fallen the privilege of proclaiming +the New Jerusalem!</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>After the bustle of New York, the scattered village of Buffalo was +restful but somewhat chilling to the Ghetto-bred poet, with his quick +brain, unaccustomed to the slow processes of nature. Buffalo—with its +muddy, unpaved streets, and great trees, up which squirrel and +chipmunk ran—was still half in and half out of mother earth; man's +artifice ruled in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>high street with its stores and inns, some of +which were even of brick; but in the byways every now and then a +primitive log cabin broke the line of frame cottages, and in the +outskirts cows and pigs walked about unconcernedly. It was a reminder +of all that would have to be done in Ararat ere a Temple could shine, +like a lighthouse of righteousness to the tossing nations. But when +Peloni learned that it was only twelve years since the scarcely born +village had been burnt down by the British and Indians in the war, he +felt reëncouraged, warming himself at the flame, so to speak. And when +he found that the citizens were all agog about Ararat and the church +celebration—that it divided interest with the Erie Canal, the hanging +of the three Thayers, and the recent reception of General Lafayette at +the Eagle Tavern—his heart expanded in a new poem.</p> + +<p>It was indeed an auspicious moment for Noah's scheme. All eyes were +turned on the coming celebration of the opening of the great canal, to +be the terminus of which Buffalo had fought victoriously against Black +Rock. Golden visions of the future gleamed almost tangibly; and amid +the general magnificence Noah's ornate dream took on equal solidity. +Endless capital would be directed into the neighbourhood of +Buffalo—for Ararat was only twelve miles away. Besides, all the great +men of Buffalo—and there were many—had been honoured <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>with elaborate +cards of invitation to the grand ceremony of the foundation-stone. A +few old Baptist farmers were surly about the threatened vast Jewish +immigration, but the majority proclaimed with righteous warmth that +the glorious American Constitution welcomed all creeds, and that there +was money in it.</p> + +<p>Peloni looked about for a Jew to guide him, but could find none. +Finally a Seneca Indian from the camp just below Buffalo undertook to +look for the spot. It was with a strange thrill that Peloni's eyes +rested for the first time on a red Indian. Was this indeed a long-lost +brother of his? He cried "Shalom Aleikhem" in Hebrew, but the Indian, +despite Noah's theories, did not seem to understand. Ultimately the +dialogue was carried on in the few words of broken English which the +Indian had picked up from the trappers, and in the gesture-language, +in which, with his genius for all languages, Peloni was soon at home. +And in truth he did find at heart some subtle sympathy with this +copper-coloured savage which was not called out by the busy citizens +of Buffalo. On a sunlit morning, bearing his flagstaff with the flag +wrapped round it, a blanket, and a little store of provisions for +camping out over-night, Peloni slipped into the birch canoe and the +Indian paddled off. For miles they glided in silence along the +sparkling Niagara, lone denizens of a lonely world.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Peloni thought of the <i>Judengasse</i> of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>Frankfort, and for a +moment it seemed to him that he must be dreaming. What! a few short +months ago he was selling prayer-books and phylacteries in the shadow +of the old high-gabled houses, and now, in a virgin district of the +New World, in company with a half-naked red Indian, he was going to +plant the flag of Judah on an island forest and to found the New +Jerusalem. What would they say, his old friends, if they could see him +now? And he—the <i>Possemacher</i>—what winged jest would he let fly? A +perception of the monstrous fantasy of the thing stole on poor Peloni. +Was he, perhaps, dreaming after all? No, there was the Niagara River, +the village of Black Rock on his right hand, and on the other side of +the gorge the lively Fort Erie and the poplar-fringed Canadian shore, +and there too—on the map Noah had given him—Ararat lay waiting.</p> + +<p>The Indian paddled imperturbably, throwing back the sparkling water +with a soft, soothing sound. Peloni lapsed into more pleasurable +reflections. How beautiful was this great free place of sun and wind, +of water and forest, after the noisome Jew-street! He was not +dreaming, nor—thank God!—was Noah. Strange, indeed, that thus should +deliverance for Israel be wrought; yet what was Israel's history but a +series of miracles? And his—Peloni's—humble hand was to plant the +flag that had lain folded and inglorious these twenty centuries!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>They glided by a couple of little islands, duly marked on the map, and +then a great, wooded, dark purple mass rose to meet them with a band +of deep orange on the low coast-line.</p> + +<p>It was Grand Island.</p> + +<p>Peloni whispered a prayer.</p> + +<p>Obeying the map marked by Noah, the canoe glided round the island, +keeping to the American side. As they shot past a third little island, +a dull booming began to be audible.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" Peloni's face inquired.</p> + +<p>The Indian smiled. "Not go many miles farther," he indicated. "The +Rapids soon. Then—whizz! Then big jump! Niagara. Dead."</p> + +<p>Fortunately Ararat was due much sooner than Niagara. As they drew near +the fourth of the little islands, which lay betwixt Grand Island and +the mainland of the States, and saw the Tonawanda Creek emptying +itself into the river, Peloni signed to the Indian to land; for it was +here that Ararat was to arise.</p> + +<p>The landing was easy, the river here being shallow and the bank low. +The beauty of the spot, as it lay wild and fresh from God's hand in +the golden sunlight, moved Peloni to tears. The Indian, who seemed +curious as to his movements and willing to share his mid-day meal, +tied his canoe to a basswood tree and followed the standard-bearer. +There was a glorious medley of leafy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>life—elm, oak, maple, linden, +pine, wild cherry, wild plum—which Peloni could only rejoice in +without differentiating it by names; and as the oddly assorted couple +walked through the sun-dappled glades they startled a world of +scurrying animal life—snipe and plover and partridges and +singing-birds, squirrels and rabbits and even deer, that frisked and +fluttered unprescient of the New Jerusalem that menaced their +immemorial inheritance. The joy of city-building had begun at last to +dawn on Peloni, the immense pleasure to the human will of beginning +afresh, of shaking off the pressure of the ages, of inscribing free +ideas on the plastic universe. As he wandered at random in search of a +suitable spot on which to plant the flagstaff, the romance of this +great American world thrilled him, of this vast continent won acre by +acre from nature and the savage, covering itself with splendid cities; +a retrospective sympathy with the citizens of Buffalo and their coming +canal warmed his breast.</p> + +<p>Of a sudden he heard a screaming, and looking up he observed two +strange, huge birds upon a blasted pine.</p> + +<p>"Eagles," said the laconic Indian.</p> + +<p>"Eagles!" And Peloni's heart leaped with a remembrance of Noah's +words. "Here under their wings shall our flag be unfurled. And that +blasted tree is Israel, that shall flourish again."</p> + +<p>He dug the pole into the earth. A breeze caught <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>the flag, and the +folds flew out, and the Lion of Judah and the seven stars flapped in +the face of an inattentive universe. Peloni intoned the Hebrew +benediction, closing his eyes in pious ecstasy. "Blessed art Thou, O +Lord our God, who hast kept us alive, and preserved us, and enabled us +to reach this day!"</p> + +<p>As he opened his eyes, he perceived in the distance high in air, +rising far above the Island, a great mist of shining spray, amid which +rainbows netted and tangled themselves in ineffable dream-like +loveliness. At the same instant his ear caught—over the boom of the +rapids—the first hint of another, a mightier, a more majestic roar.</p> + +<p>"Niagara," murmured the Indian.</p> + +<p>But Peloni's eyes were fixed on the celestial vision.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Shechinah</i>!" he whispered. "The divine presence that rested on +the Tabernacle, and on Solomon's Temple, and that has returned at +last—to Ararat."</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>The booming of cannon from the Court House, and from the Terrace +facing the lake, saluted the bright September dawn and reminded the +citizens of Buffalo that the Messianic day was here. But they needed +no reminding. The great folk had laid out their best clothes; military +insignia and Masonic regalia had been furbished up. Troops guarded St. +Paul's Church and kept off the swarming crowd.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>The first act of the great historic drama—"Mordecai Manuel Noah; or, +The Redemption of Israel"—passed off triumphantly, to the music of +patriotic American airs. The procession, which marched at eleven from +the Lodge through the chief streets, did honour to this marshaller of +stage pageants.</p> + +<br /> + +<p class="cen">ORDER OF PROCESSION</p> + +<p class="cen">Grand Marshal, Col. Potter, on horseback.<br /> + Music.<br /> + Military.<br /> + Citizens.<br /> + Civil Officers.<br /> + State Officers in Uniform.<br /> + President and Trustees of the Corporation.<br /> + Tyler.<br /> + Stewards.<br /> + Entered Apprentices.<br /> + Fellow Crafts.<br /> + Master Masons.<br /> + Senior and Junior Deacons.<br /> + Secretary and Treasurer.<br /> + Senior and Junior Wardens.<br /> + Master of Lodges.<br /> + Past Masters.<br /> + Rev. Clergy.<br /> + Stewards, with corn, wine, and oil.<br /> + Globe Principal Architect, with square, level, and plumb. Globe<br /> + Bible.<br /> + Square and Compass, borne by a Master Mason.<br /> + The Judge of Israel<br /> + In black, wearing the judicial robes of crimson silk, trimmed<br /> + with ermine, and a richly embossed golden<br /> + medal suspended from the neck.<br /> + A Master Mason.<br /> + Royal Arch Masons.<br /> + Knights Templars.</p> + +<br /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>At the church door there was a halt. The troops parted to right and +left, the pageant passed through into the crowded church, gay with the +summer dresses of the ladies, the band played the grand march from +"Judas Maccabæus," the organ pealed out the "Jubilate." On the +communion-table lay the corner-stone of Ararat!</p> + +<p>The morning service was read by the Rev. Mr. Searle in full +canonicals; the choir sang "Before Jehovah's Awful Throne"; then came +a special prayer for Ararat, and passages from Jeremiah, Zephaniah, +and the Psalms, charged with divine promises and consolations for the +long suffering of Israel, idyllic pictures of the Messianic future, +symbolized by the silver cups with wine, corn, and oil, that lay on +the corner-stone. At last arose, with that crimson silk robe trimmed +with ermine thrown over his stately black attire, and with the richly +embossed golden medal hanging from his neck—the Master of the Show, +the Dramatist of the Real, the Humorist without a sense of Humour, the +Dreamer of the Ghetto and American Man of Action, the Governor and +Judge of Israel, the <i>Shophet</i>,—in brief, Mordecai Manuel Noah. He +delivered a great discourse on the history of Israel and its present +reorganization, which filled more than five columns of the newspapers, +and was heard with solemn attention by the crowded Christian audience. +Save a few Indians and his own secretary, not a single Jew was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>present to hold in check the orator's oriental imagination. Then the +glittering procession filed back to the Lodge, and the brethren and +the military dined joyously at the Eagle Tavern, and Noah's wit and +humour returned for the after-dinner speech. He withdrew early in +order to write a full account of the proceedings for the <i>Buffalo +Patriot Extra</i>.</p> + +<p>A salvo of twenty-four guns rounded off the great day of Israel's +restoration.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>Meantime Peloni on his island awaited the coming of its Ruler. He +heard faintly the cannonade that preceded and concluded the laying of +the foundation-stone in the chancel of the church, and he expected +Noah the next day at the latest. But the next day passed, and no Noah. +Peloni fed on the remains of his corn and drank from the river, but +though his Indian guide was gone and he was a prisoner, he had no fear +of starvation, because he saw the wigwams of another Indian encampment +across the river and occasionally a party of them would glide past in +a large canoe. Despite hunger, his sensations on this first day were +delicious. The poet in him responded rapturously to the appeal of all +this new life; to feel the brotherhood of wild creatures, to sleep +under the stars in the vast night, to watch the silent, passionate +beauty of the sunrise, ripening to the music of the birds.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>On the second day his eyes were gladdened by the oncoming of a boat +rowed by two whites. They proved to be a stone mason and his man, and +they bore provisions, a letter, and newspapers from Noah:—</p> + +<div class="block"><p>"<span class="sc">My dear Peloni</span>:</p> + +<p>"A hurried line to report a glorious success, thank Heaven! A +finer day and more general satisfaction has not been known on +any similar occasion. All the dignity and talent of the +neighbourhood for miles was present. I hear that a vast +concourse also assembled at Tonawanda, expecting that the +ceremonies would be at Grand Island, but that many of them came +up in carriages in time to hear my Inaugural Speech. You will +see that the newspapers, especially the <i>Buffalo Patriot Extra</i>, +have reported me fully, showing how they realize the importance +of this world-stirring episode in Israel's history. Their +comments, too, are for the most part highly sympathetic. Of +course the <i>New York Herald</i> will sneer; but then Bennett was +once in my employ on the <i>Courier and Enquirer</i>. They tell me +that you duly set out to plant the flag of Judah, and I assume +it is now by God's grace waving over Ararat. Heaven bless you! +my heart is too full for words. I had hoped to find time to-day +to behold the sublime spectacle myself, but urgent legal +business calls me back to New York. But I am resolved to start +the city without delay, and the bearers of this have my plan for +a little monument of brick and wood with the simple +inscription—'Ararat founded by Mordecai Manuel Noah, +1825'—from the summit of which the flag can wave. I leave you +to superintend the same, and take any measures you please to +promote the growth of the city and to receive, as my +representative, the inflowing immigrants from the Ghettos of the +world. I appoint you, moreover, Keeper of the Records. To you +shall be given to write the new Book of the Chronicles of +Israel. My friend Mr. Smith, one of the proprietors of the +island, will communicate with you on behalf of the Shareholders, +as occasion arises. Expect me shortly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>(perhaps with my bride, +for I am entering into holy wedlock with the most amiable and +beautiful of her sex) and meantime receive my blessing.</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="sc">Mordecai Manuel Noah</span>, Judge of Israel, <br /> +"<i>pro</i> <span class="sc">A.B. Seixas</span>, Secr. <i>pro tem.</i>"</p></div> + +<br /> + +<p>While the little monument was building, and the men were coming to and +fro in boats, Peloni made friends with the Indians, the smoke-wreaths +of whose lodges hovered across the river, and he picked up a little of +their language. Also he explored his island, drawn by the crescendo +roar of Niagara. It was at Burnt Island Bay that he had his first, if +distant, view of the Falls themselves. The rapids, gurgling and +plunging with foam and swirl and eddy, quickened his blood, but the +cataracts disappointed him, after that rainbow glimpse of the upper +spray, and it was not till he got himself landed on the Canadian shore +and saw the monstrous rush of the vast tameless flood toward the great +leap that he felt the presence and the power that were to be with him +for the rest of his days. The bend of the Horse-Shoe was hidden by a +white spray mountain that rose above its topmost waters, as they +hurled themselves from green solidity to creamy mist. And as he +looked, lo! the enchanting rainbows twinkled again, and he had a sense +as of the smile of God, of the love of that awful, unfathomable Being, +eternally persistent, while the generations rise and fall like +vaporous spray.</p> + +<p>The tide was low and, drawn by an irresistible <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>fascination, he +adventured down among the rocks near the foot of the Fall. But a +tingling storm of spray smote him half blind and wholly breathless, +and all he could see was a monstrous misty Brocken-spirit upreared and +in his ears were a thousand thunders. A wild elemental passion swelled +and lifted him. Yes, Force, Force, was the secret of things: the vast +primal energies that sent the stars shining and the seas roaring. +Force, Life, Strength, that was what Israel needed. It had grown +anæmic, slouching along its airless <i>Judengassen</i>. Oh, to fight, to +fight, like the warriors who went out against the Greeks, who defended +the Holy City against the Romans. "For the Lord is a Man of War." And +he shouted the cry of David, "Blessed be the Lord, my Rock, who +teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight." But he stopped, +smitten by an ironic memory. This very blessing was uttered every +Sabbath twilight, in every Ghetto, by every bloodless worshipper, to a +melancholy despairing melody, in the lightless dusk of the synagogues.</p> + +<p>The monument was speedily erected and, being hollow, proved useful for +Peloni to sleep in, as the October nights grew chilly. And thus Peloni +lived, a latter-day Crusoe. He had now procured fishing-tackle, and +grew dexterous in luring black bass and perch and whitefish from the +river. Also he had found out what berries he might eat. Occasionally a +boat would sell him cornmeal from Buffalo, but his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>savings were +melting away and he preferred to forage for himself, relishing the +wild flavour of uncivilized living. He even wished it were possible to +eat the birds or the rabbits he could have killed: but as various +points of Jewish law forbade such diet, there was no use in buying a +musket or a bow and arrow. So his relations with the animal world +remained purely amicable. The robins and bluebirds and thrushes sang +for him. The woodpeckers tapped on his monument to wake him in the +morning. The blue jays screamed without wrath, and the partridges +drummed unmartially. The squirrels frolicked with him, and the rabbits +lost their shyness. One would have said these were the Lost Ten Tribes +he had found.</p> + +<p>Peloni had become, not the Keeper of the Records, but the Keeper of +Noah's Ark.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>So winter came, and there was still nothing to record, save the +witchery of the muffled white world with its blue shadows and +fantastic ice friezes and stalactites. Great icicles glittered on the +rocks, showing all the hues beneath. Peloni, wrapped in his blanket, +crouched on his monument over a log that burnt in an improvised grate. +It was very lonely. He had heard from no one, neither from Noah, nor +Smith, nor any Jewish or even Indian pilgrim to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>New Jerusalem, +and the stock of winter provisions had exhausted his little hoard of +coin. The old despair began to twine round him like some serpent of +ice. As he listened in such moods to the distant thunder of +Niagara—which waxed louder as the air grew heavier, till it quite +dominated the ever present rumble of the rapids—the sound took on +endless meanings to his feverish brain. Now it was no longer the voice +of the Eternal Being, it was the endless plaint of Israel beseeching +the deaf heaven, the roar of prayer from some measureless synagogue; +now it was the raucous voice of persecution, the dull bestial roar of +malicious multitudes; and again it was the voice of the whole earth, +groaning and travailing. And the horror of it was that it would not +stop. It dropped on his brain, this falling water, as on the +prisoner's in the mediæval torture chamber. Could no one stop this +turning wheel of the world, jar it grindingly to a standstill?</p> + +<p>Spring wore slowly round again. The icicles melted, the friezes +dripped away, the fantastic mufflers slipped from the trees, and the +young buds peeped out and the young birds sang. The river flowed +uncurdled, the cataracts fell unclogged.</p> + +<p>In Peloni's breast alone the ice did not melt: no new sap stirred in +his veins. The very rainbows on the leaping mist were now only +reminders of the Biblical promise that the world would go on forever; +forever the wheel would turn, and Israel wander homeless.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>And at last one sunny day a boat arrived with a message from the +Master. Alas! even Noah had abandoned Ararat. "I am beginning to see," +he wrote, "that our only hope is Palestine. Zion alone has magnetism +for the Jew. The great war against Gog prophesied in Ezekiel will be +in Palestine. Gog is Russia, and the Russians are the descendants of +the joint colony of Meshech and Tubal and the little horn of Daniel. +Russia in an attempt to wrest India and Turkey from the English and +the Turks will make the Holy Land the theatre of a terrible conflict. +But yet in the end in Jerusalem shall we reërect Solomon's Temple. The +ports of the Mediterranean will be again open to the busy hum of +commerce; the fields will again bear the fruitful harvest, and +Christian and Jew will together, on Mount Zion, raise their voices in +praise of Him whose covenant with Abraham was to endure forever, in +whose seed all the nations of the earth are to be blessed. This is our +destiny."</p> + +<p>Peloni wandered automatically to the apex of the island at Burnt Ship +Bay, and stood gazing meaninglessly at the fragments of the sunken +ships. Before him raced the rapids, frenziedly anxious for the great +leap. Even so, he thought, had Noah and he dreamed Israel would haste +to Ararat. And Niagara maintained its mocking roar—its roar of +gigantic laughter.</p> + +<p>Reërect Solomon's Temple in Palestine! A <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>ruined country to regenerate +a ruined people! A land belonging to the Turks, centre of the +fanaticisms of three religions and countless sects! A soil which even +to Noah was the destined theatre of world-shaking war!</p> + +<p>As he lifted his swimming eyes he saw to his astonishment that he was +no longer alone. A tall majestic figure stood gazing at him: a grave, +sorrowful Indian, feathered and tufted, habited only in buckskin +leggings, and girdled by a belt of wampum. A musket in his hand showed +he had been hunting, and a canoe Peloni now saw tethered to the bank +indicated he was going back to his lodge. Peloni knew from his talks +with the Tonawanda Indians opposite Ararat that this was Red Jacket, +the famous chief of the Iroquois, the ancient lords of the soil. +Peloni tendered the salute due to the royalty stamped on the man. Red +Jacket ceremoniously acknowledged the obeisance. Then they gazed +silently at each other, the puny, stooping scholar from the German +Ghetto, and the stalwart, kingly savage.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said Red Jacket imperiously, "what nation are you that +build a monument but never a city like the other white men, nor even a +camp like my people?"</p> + +<p>"Great Chief," replied Peloni in his best Iroquois, "we are a people +that build for others."</p> + +<p>"I would ye would build for my people then. For <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>these white men sweep +us back, farther, farther, till there is nothing but"—and he made an +eloquent gesture, implying the sweep into the river, into the jaws of +the hurrying rapids. "Yet, methinks, I heard of a plan of your +people—of a great pow-wow of your chiefs in a church, of a great city +to be born here."</p> + +<p>"It is dead before birth," said Peloni.</p> + +<p>"Strange," mused Red Jacket. "Scarce twenty summers ago Joseph Elliott +came here to plan out his city on a soil that was not his, and lo! +this Buffalo rises already mighty and menacing. To-morrow it will be +at my wigwam door—and we"—another gesture, hopeless, yet full of +regal dignity, rounded off the sentence.</p> + +<p>And in that instant it was borne in upon Peloni that they were indeed +brothers: the Jew who stood for the world that could not be born +again, and the Red Indian who stood for the world that must pass away. +Yes, they were both doomed. Israel had been too bent and broken by the +long dispersion and the long persecution: the spring was snapped; he +could not recover. He had been too long the pliant protégé of kings +and popes: he had prayed too many centuries in too many countries for +the simultaneous welfare of too many governments, to be capable of +realizing that government of his own for which he likewise prayed. +This pious patience—this rejection of the burden on to the shoulders +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>of Messiah and Miracle—was it more than the veil of unconscious +impotence? Ah, better sweep oneself away than endure the long +ignominy. And Niagara laughed on.</p> + +<p>"May I have the privilege of crossing in your canoe?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You are not afraid?" said Red Jacket. "The rapids are dangerous +here."</p> + +<p>Afraid! Peloni's inward laughter seemed to himself to match Niagara's.</p> + +<p>When he got to the mainland, he made straight for the Fall. He was on +the American side, and he paused on the sward, on the very brink of +the tameless cataract, that had for immemorial ages been driving +itself backward by eating away its own rock. His fascinated eyes +watched the curious smooth, purring slide of the vast mass of green +water over the sharp edges, unending, unresting, the eternal +revolution of a maddening, imperturbable wheel. O that blind wheel, +turning, turning, while the generations waxed and waned, one +succeeding the other without haste or rest or possibility of pause: +creatures of meaningless majesty, shadows of shadows, dreaming of love +and justice, and fading into the kindred mist, while this solid green +cataract roared and raced through æons innumerable, stable as the +stars, thundering in majestic meaninglessness. And suddenly he threw +himself into its remorseless whirl and was sucked down into the +monstrous chaos <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>of seething waters and whirled and hurled amid the +rocks, battered and shapeless, but still holding Noah's letter in his +convulsively clinched hand, while the rainbowed spray leapt +impassively heavenward.</p> + +<p>The corner-stone of Ararat lies in the rooms of the Buffalo Historical +Society, and no one who copies the inscription dreams that it is the +gravestone of Peloni.</p> + +<p>And while the very monument has mouldered away in Ararat, Buffalo sits +throned amid her waters, the Queen City of the Empire State, with the +world's commerce at her feet. And from their palaces of Medina +sandstone the Christian railroad kings go out to sail in their +luxurious yachts,—vessels not of bulrushes but driven by steam, as +predicted by Mordecai Manuel Noah, Governor and Judge of Israel.</p> + +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>IV</h2> + +<h2>THE LAND OF PROMISE</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<a name="IV" id="IV"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>IV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>THE LAND OF PROMISE</h3> + +<br /> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>"Telegraph how many pieces you have."</p> + +<p>In this wise did the Steamship Company convey to the astute agent its +desire to know how many Russian Jews he was smuggling out of the Pale +into the steerage of its Atlantic liner.</p> + +<p>The astute agent's task was simple enough. The tales he told of +America were only the clarification of a nebulous vision of the land +flowing with milk and honey that hovered golden-rayed before all these +hungry eyes. To the denizens of the Pale, in their cellars, in their +gutter-streets, in their semi-subterranean shops consisting mainly of +shutters and annihilating one another's profits; to the congested +populations newly reinforced by the driving back of thousands from +beyond the Pale, and yet multiplying still by an improvident reliance +on Providence; to the old people pauperized by the removal of the +vodka business to Christian hands, and the young people dammed back +from their natural outlets by Pan-Slavic ukases, and clogged with +whimsical edicts <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>and rescripts—the astute agent's offer of getting +you through Germany, without even a Russian passport, by a simple +passage from Libau to New York, was peculiarly alluring.</p> + +<p>It was really almost an over-baiting of the hook on the part of the +too astute agent to whisper that he had had secret information of a +new thunderbolt about to be launched at the Pale; whereby the period +of service for Jewish conscripts would be extended to fifteen years, +and the area of service would be extended to Siberia.</p> + +<p>"Three hundred and seventy-seven pieces," ran his telegram in reply. +In a letter he suggested other business he might procure for the line.</p> + +<p>"Confine yourself to freight," the Company wrote cautiously, for even +under sealed envelopes you cannot be too careful. "The more the +better."</p> + +<p>Freight! The word was not inexact. Did not even the Government reports +describe these exploiters of the Muzhik as in some places packed in +their hovels like salt herrings in a barrel; as sleeping at night in +serried masses in sties which by day were tallow or leather factories?</p> + +<p>To be shipped as cargo came therefore natural enough. Nevertheless, +each of these "pieces," being human after all, had a history, and one +of these histories is here told.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>II</h4> + +<p>Nowhere was the poverty of the Pale bitterer than in the weavers' +colony, in which Srul betrothed himself to Biela. The dowries, which +had been wont to kindle so many young men's passions, had fallen to +freezing-point; and Biela, if she had no near prospect of marriage, +could console herself with the knowledge that she was romantically +loved. Even the attraction of <i>kest</i>—temporary maintenance of the +young couple by the father-in-law—was wanting in Biela's case, for +the simple reason that she had no father, both her parents having died +of the effort to get a living. For marriage-portion and <i>kest</i>, Biela +could only bring her dark beauty, and even that was perhaps less than +it seemed. For you scarcely ever saw Biela apart from her homely +quasi-mother, her elder sister Leah, who, like the original Leah, had +"tender eyes," which combined with a pock-marked face to ensure for +her premature recognition as an old maid. The inflamed eyelids were +the only legacy Leah's father had left her.</p> + +<p>From Srul's side, though his parents were living, came even fainter +hope of the wedding-canopy. Srul's father was blind—perhaps a further +evidence that the local hygienic conditions were nocuous to the eye in +particular—and Srul himself, who had occupied most of his time in +learning to weave Rabbinic webs, had only just turned his attention +to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>cloth, though Heaven was doubtless pleased with the gear of +<i>Gemara</i> he had gathered in his short sixteen years. The old weaver +had—in more than one sense—seen better days before his affliction +and the great factories came on: days when the independent hand-weaver +might sit busily before the loom from the raw dawn to the black +midnight, taking his meals at the bench; days when, moreover, the +"piece" of satin-faced cloth was many ells shorter. "But they make up +for the extra length," he would say with pathetic humour, "by cutting +the pay shorter."</p> + +<p>The same sense of humour enabled him to bear up against the forced +rests that increasing slackness brought the hand-weavers, while the +factories whirred on. "Now is the proverb fulfilled," he cried to his +unsmiling wife, "for there are two Sabbaths a week." Alas! as the +winter grew older and colder, it became a week of Sabbaths. The wheels +stood still; in all the colony not a spool was reeled. It was +unprecedented. Gradually the factories had stolen the customers. Some +sat waiting dazedly for the raw yarns they knew could no longer come +at this season; others left the suburb in which the colony had drowsed +from time immemorial, and sought odd jobs in the town, in the frowning +shadows of the factories. But none would enter the factories +themselves, though these were ready to suck them in on one sole +condition.</p> + +<p>Ah! here was the irony of the tragedy. The one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>condition was the one +condition the poor weavers could not accept. It was open to them to +reduce the week of Sabbaths to its ancient and diurnal dimensions, +provided the Sabbath itself came on Sunday. Nay, even the working-day +offered them was less, and the wage was more than their own. The +deeper irony within this irony was that the proprietor of every one of +these factories was a brother in Israel! Jeshurun grown fat and +kicking.</p> + +<p>Even the old blind man's composure deserted him when it began to be +borne in on his darkness that the younger weavers meditated surrender. +The latent explosives generated through the years by their perusal of +un-Jewish books in insidious "Yiddish" versions, now bade fair to be +touched to eruption by this paraded prosperity of wickedness; +wickedness that had even discarded the caftan and shaved the corners +of its beard.</p> + +<p>"But thou, apple of my eye," the old man said to Srul, "thou wilt die +rather than break the Sabbath?"</p> + +<p>"Father," quoted the youth, with a shuddering emotion at the bare +idea, "I have been young and now I am old, but never have I seen the +righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging for bread."</p> + +<p>"My son! A true spark of the Patriarchs!" And the old man clasped the +boy to his arms and kissed him on the pious cheeks down which the +ear-locks dangled.</p> + +<p>"But if Biela should tempt thee, so that thou <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>couldst have the +wherewithal to marry her," put in his mother, who could not keep her +thoughts off grandchildren.</p> + +<p>"Not for apples of gold, mother, will I enter the service of these +serpents."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless, Biela is fair to see, and thou art getting on in +years," murmured the mother.</p> + +<p>"Leah would not give Biela to a Sabbath-breaker," said the old man +reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but suppose she gives her to a bread-winner," persisted the +mother. "Do not forget that Biela is already fifteen, only a year +younger than thyself."</p> + +<p>But Leah kept firm to the troth she had plighted on behalf of Biela, +even though the young man's family sank lower and lower, till it was +at last reduced from the little suburban wooden cottage, with the +spacious courtyard, to one corner of a large town-cellar, whose +population became amphibious when the Vistula overflowed.</p> + +<p>And Srul kept firm to the troth Israel had plighted with the +Sabbath-bride, even when his father's heart no longer beat, so could +not be broken. The old man remained to the last the most cheerful +denizen of the cellar: perhaps because he was spared the vision of his +emaciated fellow-troglodytes. He called the cellar "Arba Kanfôs," +after the four-cornered garment of fringes which he wore: and +sometimes he said these were the "Four Corners" from which, according +to the Prophets, God would gather Israel.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>III</h4> + +<p>In such a state of things an agent scarcely needed to be astute. +"Pieces" were to be had for the picking up. The only trouble was that +they were not gold pieces. The idle weavers could not defray the +passage-money, still less the agent's commission for smuggling them +through.</p> + +<p>"If I only had a few hundred roubles," Srul lamented to Leah, "I could +get to a land where there is work without breaking the Sabbath, a land +to which Biela could follow me when I waxed in substance."</p> + +<p>Leah supported her household of three—for there was a younger sister, +Tsirrélé, who, being only nine, did not count except at meal-times—on +the price of her piece-work at the Christian umbrella factory, where, +by a considerate Russian law, she could work on Sunday, though the +Christians might not. Thus she earned, by literal sweating in a torrid +atmosphere, three roubles, all except a varying number of kopecks, +every week. And when you live largely on black bread and coffee, you +may, in the course of years, save a good deal, even if you have three +mouths. Therefore, Leah had the sum that Srul mentioned so wistfully, +put by for a rainy day (when there should be no umbrellas to make). +And as the sum had kept increasing, the notion that it might form the +nucleus of an establishment for Biela and Srul had grown <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>clearer and +clearer in her mind, which it tickled delightfully. But the idea that +now came to her of staking all on a possible future was agitating.</p> + +<p>"We might, perhaps, be able to get together the money," she said +tentatively. "But—" She shook her head, and the Russian proverb came +to her lips. "Before the sun rises the dew may destroy you."</p> + +<p>Srul plunged into an eager recapitulation of the agent's assurances. +And before the eyes of both the marriage-canopy reared itself splendid +in the Land of Promise, and the figure of Biela flitted, crowned with +the bridal wreath.</p> + +<p>"But what will become of your mother?" Leah asked.</p> + +<p>Srul's soap-bubbles collapsed. He had forgotten for the moment that he +had a mother.</p> + +<p>"She might come to live with us," Leah hastened to suggest, seeing his +o'erclouded face.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no, that would be too much of a burden. And Tsirrélé, too, is +growing up."</p> + +<p>"Tsirrélé eats quite as much now as she will in ten years' time," said +Leah, laughing, as she thought fondly of her dear, beautiful little +one, her gay whimsies and odd caprices.</p> + +<p>"And my mother does not eat very much," said Srul, wavering.</p> + +<p>In this way Srul became a "piece," and was dumped down in the Land of +Promise.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>IV</h4> + +<p>To the four females left behind—odd fragments of two families thrown +into an odder one—the movements of the particular piece, Srul, were +the chief interest of existence. The life in the three-roomed wooden +cottage soon fell into a routine, Leah going daily to the tropical +factory, Biela doing the housework and dreaming of her lover, little +Tsirrélé frisking about and chattering like the squirrel she was, and +Srul's mother dozing and criticising and yearning for her lost son and +her unborn grandchildren. By the time Srul's first letter, with its +exciting pictorial stamp, arrived from the Land of Promise, the +household seemed to have been established on this basis from time +immemorial.</p> + +<p>"I had a lucky escape, God be thanked," Srul wrote. "For when I arrived +in New York I had only fifty-one roubles in my pocket. Now it seems +that these rich Americans are so afraid of being overloaded with +paupers that they will not let you in, if you have less than fifty +dollars, unless you can prove you are sure to prosper. And a dollar, my +dear Biela, is a good deal more than a rouble. However, blessed be the +Highest One, I learned of this ukase just the day before we arrived, +and was able to borrow the difference from a fellow-passenger, who lent +me the money to show the Commissioners. Of course, I had to give it +back as soon as I was passed, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>and as I had to pay him five roubles for +the use of it, I set foot on the soil of freedom with only forty-six. +However, it was well worth it; for just think, beloved Biela, if I had +been shipped back and all that money wasted! The interpreter also said +to me, 'I suppose you have got some work to do here?' 'I wish I had,' I +said. No sooner had the truth slipped out than my heart seemed turned +to ice, for I feared they would reject me after all as a poor wretch +out of work. But quite the contrary; it seemed this was only a trap, a +snare of the fowler. Poor Caminski fell into it—you remember the +red-haired weaver who sold his looms to the Maggid's brother-in-law. He +said he had agreed to take a place in a glove factory. It is true, you +know, that some Polish Jews have made a glove town in the north, so the +poor man thought that would sound plausible. Hence you may expect to +see Caminski's red hair back again, unless he takes ship again from +Libau and tells the truth at the second attempt. I left him howling in +a wooden pen, and declaring he would kill himself rather than face his +friends at home with the brand on his head of not being good enough for +America. He did not understand that contract-labourers are not let in. +Protection is the word they call it. Hence, I thank God that my +father—his memory for a blessing!—taught me to make Truth the law of +my mouth, as it is written. Verily was the word of the Talmud (Tractate +Sabbath) fulfilled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>at the landing-stage: 'Falsehood cannot stay, but +truth remains forever.' With God's help, I shall remain here all my +life, for it is a land overflowing with milk and honey. I had almost +forgotten to tell my dove that the voyage was hard and bitter as the +Egyptian bondage; not because of the ocean, over which I passed as +easily as our forefathers over the Red Sea, but by reason of the +harshness of the overseers, who regarded not our complaints that the +meat was not <i>kosher</i>, as promised by the agent. Also the butter and +meat plates were mixed up. I and many with me lived on dry bread, nor +could we always get hot water to make coffee. When my Biela comes +across the great waters—God send her soon—she must take with her salt +meat of her own."</p> + +<p>From the first, Srul courageously assumed that the meat would soon +have to be packed; nay, that Leah might almost set about salting it at +once. Even the slow beginnings of his profits as a peddler did not +daunt him. "A great country," he wrote on paper stamped with the Stars +and Stripes, with an eagle screaming on the envelope. "No special +taxes for the Jews, permission to travel where you please, the schools +open freely to our children, no passports and papers at every step, +above all, no conscription. No wonder the people call it God's own +country. Truly, as it is written, this is none other but the House of +God, this is the Gate of Heaven. And when Biela comes, it will be +Heaven." Letters like <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>this enlarged the little cottage as with an +American room, brightened it as with a fresh wash of blue paint. +Despite the dreary grind of the week, Sabbaths and festivals found the +household joyous enough. The wedding-canopy of Srul and Biela was a +beacon of light for all four, which made life livable as they +struggled toward it. Nevertheless, it came but slowly to meet them: +nearly three years oozed by before Srul began to lift his eye toward a +store. The hereditary weaver of business combinations had emerged +tardily from beneath the logic-weaver and the cloth-weaver, but of +late he had been finding himself. "If I could only get together five +hundred dollars clear," he wrote to Leah. "For that is all I should +have to pay down for a ladies' store near Broadway, and just at the +foot of the stairs of the Elevated Railway. What a pity I have only +four hundred and thirty-five dollars! Stock and goodwill, and only +five hundred dollars cash! The other five hundred could stand over at +five per cent. If I were once in the store I could gradually get some +of the rooms above (there is already a parlour, in which I shall +sleep), and then, as soon as I was making a regular profit, I could +send Biela and mother their passage-money, and my wife could help 'the +boss' behind the counter."</p> + +<p>To hasten the rosy day Leah sent thirty-five roubles, and presently, +sure enough, Srul was in possession, and a photograph of the store +itself <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>came over to gladden their weary eyes and dilate those of the +neighbours. The photograph of Srul, which had come eighteen months +before, was not so suited for display, since his peaked cap and his +caftan had been replaced by a jacket and a bowler, and, but for the +ear-locks which were still in the picture, he would have looked like a +factory-owner. In return, Srul received a photograph of the +four—taken together, for economy's sake—Leah with her arm around +Biela's waist, and Tsirrélé sitting in his mother's lap.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>But a long, wearying struggle was still before the new "boss," and two +years crept along, with their turns of luck and ill-luck, of bargains +and bad debts, ere the visionary marriage-canopy (that seemed to span +the Atlantic) began to stand solidly on American soil. The third year +was not half over ere Srul actually sent the money for Biela's +passage, together with a handsome "waist" from his stock, for her to +wear. But Biela was too timid to embark alone without Srul's mother, +whose fare Srul could not yet manage to withdraw from his capital. +Leah, of course, offered to advance it, but Biela refused this +vehemently, because a new hope had begun to spring up in her breast. +Why should she be parted from her family at all? Since her marriage +had been delayed these five and a half years, a few months more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>or +less could make no difference. Let Leah's savings, then, be for Leah's +passage (and Tsirrélé's) and to give her a start in the New World. "It +rains, even in America, and there are umbrella factories there, too," +she urged. "You will make twice the living. Look at Srul!"</p> + +<p>And there was a new fear, too, which haunted Biela's aching heart, but +which she dared not express to Leah. Leah's eyes were getting worse. +The temperature of the factory was a daily hurt, and then, too, she +had read so many vilely printed Yiddish books and papers by the light +of the tallow candle. What if she were going blind? What if, while +she, Biela, was happy with Srul, Leah should be starving with +Tsirrélé? No, they must all remain together: and she clung to her +sister, with tears.</p> + +<p>To Leah the prospect of witnessing her sister's happiness was so +seductive that she tried to take the lowest estimate of her own +chances of finding work in New York. Her savings, almost eaten up by +the journey, could not last long, and it would be terrible to have to +come upon Srul for help, a man with a wife and (if God were good) +children, to say nothing of his old mother. No, she could not risk +Tsirrélé's bread.</p> + +<p>But the increased trouble with her eyes turned her in favour of going, +though, curiously enough, for a side reason quite unlike Biela's. +Leah, too, was afraid of a serious breakdown, though she would not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>hint her fears to any one else. From her miscellaneous Yiddish reading +she had gathered that miraculous eye-doctors lived in Königsberg. Now +a journey to Germany was not to be thought of; if she went to America, +however, it could be taken en route. It would be a sort of saving, and +few things appealed to Leah as much as economy. This was why, some +four months later, the ancient furniture of the blue-washed cottage +was sold off, and the quartette set their faces for America by way of +Germany. The farewell to the home of their youth took place in the +cemetery among the high-shouldered Hebrew-speaking stones. Leah and +Biela passionately invoked the spirits of their dead parents and bade +them watch over their children. The old woman scribbled Srul and +Biela's interlinked names over the flat tomb of a holy scholar. "Take +their names up to the Highest One," she pleaded. "Entreat that their +quiver be full, for the sake of thy righteousness."</p> + +<p>More dead than alive, the four "pieces" with their bundles arrived at +Hamburg. Days and nights of travelling, packed like "freight" in hard, +dirty wooden carriages, the endless worry of passports, tickets, +questions, hygienic inspections and processes, the illegal exactions +of petty officials, the strange phantasmagoria of places and +faces—all this had left them dazed. Only two things kept up their +spirits—the image of Srul waiting on the Transatlantic wharf in +hymeneal attire, and the "pooh-pooh" of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>the miraculous Königsberg +doctor, reassuring Leah as to her eyes. There was nothing radically +the matter. Even the inflamed eyelids—though incurable, because +hereditary—would improve with care. Peasant-like, Leah craved a +lotion. "The sea voyage and the rest will do you more good than my +medicines. And don't read so much." Not a groschen did Leah have to +pay for the great specialist's services. It was the first time in her +hard life anybody had done anything for her for nothing, and her +involuntary weeping over this phenomenon tended to hurt the very +eyelids under attention. They were still further taxed by the kindness +of the Jewish committee at Hamburg, on the look-out to smooth the path +of poor emigrants and overcome their dietary difficulties. But it was +a crowded ship, and our party reverted again to "freight." With some +of the other females, they were accommodated in hammocks swung over +the very dining-tables, so that they must needs rise at dawn and be +cleared away before breakfast. The hot, oily whiff of the +cooking-engines came through the rocking doorway. Of the quartette, +only Tsirrélé escaped sea-sickness, but "baby" was too accustomed to +be petted and nursed to be able suddenly to pet and nurse, and she +would spend hours on the slip of lower deck, peering into the fairy +saloons which were vivified by bugle instead of bell, and in which +beautiful people ate dishes fit for the saints in Heaven. By an effort +of will, Leah <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>soon returned to her rôle of factotum, but the old +woman and Biela remained limp to the end. Fortunately, there was only +one day of heavy rolling and battened-down hatches. For the bulk of +the voyage the great vessel brushed the pack of waves disdainfully +aside. And one wonderful day, amid unspeakable joy, New York arrived, +preceded by a tug and by a boat that conveyed inquiring officials. The +great statue of Liberty, on Bedloe's Island, upheld its torch to light +the new-comers' path. Srul—there he is on the wharf, dear old +Srul!—God bless him! despite his close-cropped hair and his shaven +ear-locks. Ah! Heaven be praised! Don't you see him waving? Ah, but +we, too, must be content with waving. For here only the <i>tschinovniks</i> +of the gilded saloon may land. The "freight" must be packed later into +rigid gangs, according to the ship's manifest, transferred to a +smaller steamer and discharged on Ellis Island, a little beyond +Bedloe's.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>And at Ellis Island a terrible thing happened, unforeseen—a shipwreck +in the very harbour.</p> + +<p>As the "freight" filed slowly along the corridor-cages in the great +bare hall, like cattle inspected at ports by the veterinary surgeon, +it came into the doctor's head that Leah's eye-trouble was infectious. +"Granular lids—contagious," he diagnosed it on <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>paper. And this +diagnosis was a flaming sword that turned every way, guarding against +Leah the Land of Promise.</p> + +<p>"But it is not infectious," she protested in her best German. "It is +only in the family."</p> + +<p>"So I perceive," dryly replied America's Guardian Angel, who was now +examining the obvious sister clinging to Leah's skirts. And in Biela, +heavy-eyed with sickness and want of sleep, his suspicious vision +easily discovered a reddish rim of eyelid that lent itself to the same +fatal diagnosis, and sent her to join Leah in the dock of the +rejected. The fresh-faced Tsirrélé and the wizen-faced mother of Srul +passed unscrutinized, and even the dread clerk at the desk who asked +questions was content with their oath that the wealthy Srul would +support them. Srul was, indeed, sent for at once, as Tsirrélé was too +pretty to be let out under the mere protection of a Polish crone.</p> + +<p>When the full truth that neither she nor Biela was to set foot in New +York burst through the daze in Leah's brain, her protest grew frantic.</p> + +<p>"But my sister has nothing the matter with her—nothing. O <i>gnädiger +Herr</i>, have pity. The Königsberg doctor—the great doctor—told me I +had no disease, no disease at all. And even if I have, my sister's +eyes are pure as the sunshine. Look, <i>mein Herr</i>, look again. See," +and she held up Biela's eyelids and passionately kissed the wet +bewildered eyes. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>"She is to be married, my lamb—her bridegroom +awaits her on the wharf. Send <i>me</i> back, <i>gnädiger Herr</i>; I ought not +to have come. But for God's sake, don't keep Biela out, don't." She +wrung her hands. But the marriage card had been played too often in +that hall of despairing dodges. "Oh, <i>Herr Doktor</i>," and she kissed +the coat-tail of the ship's doctor, "plead for us; speak a word for +her."</p> + +<p>The ship's doctor spoke a word on his own behalf. It was he who had +endorsed the two girls' health-certificates at Hamburg, and he would +be blamed by the Steamship Company, which would have to ship the +sisters back free, and even defray their expenses while in quarantine +at the dépôt. He ridiculed the idea that the girls were suffering from +anything contagious. But the native doctor frowned, immovable.</p> + +<p>Leah grew hysteric. It was the first time in her life she had lost her +sane standpoint. "Your own eye is affected," she shrieked, her dark +pock-marked face almost black with desperate anger, "if you cannot see +that it is only because my sister has been weeping, because she is ill +from the voyage. But she carries no infection—she is healthy as an +ox, and her eye is the eye of an eagle!" She was ordered to be silent, +but she shrieked angrily, "The German doctors know, but the Americans +have no <i>Bildung</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't, Leah," moaned Biela, throwing her arms round the panting +breast. "What's the use?" But the irrepressible Leah got an S.I. +ticket of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>Special Inquiry, forced a hearing in the Commissioners' +Court.</p> + +<p>"Let her in, kind gentlemen, and send back the other one. Tsirrélé +will go back with me. It does not matter about the little one."</p> + +<p>The kind gentlemen on the bench were really kind, but America must be +protected.</p> + +<p>"You can take the young one and the old one both back with you," the +interpreter told her. "But they are the only ones we can let in."</p> + +<p>Leah and Biela were driven back among the damned. The favoured twain +stood helplessly in their happier compartment. Even Tsirrélé, the +squirrel, was dazed. Presently the spruce Srul arrived—to find the +expected raptures replaced by funereal misery. He wormed his way +dizzily into the cage of the rejected. It was not the etiquette of the +Pale to kiss one's betrothed bride, but Srul stared dully at Biela +without even touching her hand, as if the Atlantic already rolled +again between them. Here was a pretty climax to the dreams of years!</p> + +<p>"My poor Srul, we must go back to Hamburg to be married," faltered +Biela.</p> + +<p>"And give up my store?" Srul wailed. "Here the dollar spins round. We +have now what one names a boom. There is no land on earth like ours."</p> + +<p>The forlornness of the others stung Leah to her senses.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>"Listen, Srul," she said hurriedly. "It is all my fault, because I +wanted to share in the happiness. I ought not to have come. If we had +not been together they never would have suspected Biela's eyes—who +would notice the little touch of inflammation which is the most she +has ever suffered from? She shall come again in another ship, all +alone—for she knows now how to travel. Is it not so, Biela, my lamb? +I will see you on board, and Srul will meet you here, although not +till you have passed the doctor, so that no one will have a chance of +remembering you. It will cost a heap, alas! but I can get some work in +Hamburg, and the Jews there have hearts of gold. Eh, Biela, my poor +lamb?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Leah, you can always give yourself a counsel," and Biela +put her wet face to her sister's, and kissed the pock-marked cheek.</p> + +<p>Srul acquiesced eagerly. No one remembered for the moment that Leah +would be left alone in the Old World. The problem of effecting the +bride's entry blocked all the horizon.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said Srul. "The mother will look after Tsirrélé, and in +less than three weeks Biela will slip in."</p> + +<p>"No, three weeks is too soon," said Leah. "We must wait a little +longer till the doctor forgets."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I have already waited so long!" whimpered Srul.</p> + +<p>Leah's eyes filled with sympathetic tears. "I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>ought not to have made +so much fuss. Now she will stick in the doctor's mind. Forgive me, +dear Srul, I will do my best and try to make amends."</p> + +<p>Leah and Biela were taken away to the hospital, where they remained +isolated from the world till the steamer sailed back to Hamburg. +Herein, generously lodged, they had ample leisure to review the +situation. Biela discovered that the new plan would leave Leah +deserted, Leah remembered that she would be deserting little Tsirrélé. +Both were agreed that Tsirrélé must go back with them, till they +bethought themselves that her passage would have to be paid for, as +she was not refused. And every kopeck was precious now. "Let the child +stay till I get back," said Biela. "Then I will send her to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is best to let her stay awhile. I myself may be able to join +you after all. I will go back to Königsberg, and the great doctor will +write me out a certificate that my affliction is not contagious."</p> + +<p>At the very worst—if even Biela could not get in—Srul should sell +his store and come back to the Old World. It would put off the +marriage again. But they had waited so long. "So let us cheer up after +all, and thank the Lord for His mercies. We might all have been +drowned on the voyage."</p> + +<p>Thus the sisters' pious conclusion.</p> + +<p>But though Srul and his mother and Tsirrélé got on board to see them +off, and Tsirrélé gave graphic accounts of the wonders of the store +and the rooms <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>prepared for the bride, to say nothing of the great +city itself, and Srul brought Biela and Leah splendid specimens of his +stock for their adornment, yet it was a horrible thing for them to go +back again without having once trodden the sidewalks of the Land of +Promise. And when the others were tolled off, as by a funeral bell, +and became specks in a swaying crowd; when the dock receded and the +cheers and good-byes faded, and the waving handkerchiefs became a +blur, and the Statue of Liberty dwindled, and the lone waste of waters +faced them once more, Leah's optimism gave way, a chill sinister +shadow fell across her new plan, some ominous intuition traversed her +like a shudder, and she turned away lest Biela should see her tears.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>This despair did not last long. It was not in Leah's nature to +despair. But her wildest hopes were exceeded when she set foot again +in Hamburg and explained her hard case to the good committee, and a +member gave her an informal hint which was like a flash of light from +Heaven—its answer to her ceaseless prayer. Ellis Island was not the +only way of approaching the Land of Promise. You could go round about +through Canada, where they were not so particular, and you could slip +in by rail from Montreal without attracting much attention. True, +there was the extra expense.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>Expense! Leah would have gladly parted with her last rouble to unite +Biela with her bridegroom. There must be no delay. A steamer for +Canada was waiting to sail. What a fool she had been not to think that +out for herself! Yes, but there was Biela's timidity again to +consider. Travel by herself through this unknown Canada! And then if +they were not so particular, why could not Leah slip through likewise?</p> + +<p>"Yes, but my eyes are more noticeable. I might again do you an +injury."</p> + +<p>"We will separate at the landing-stage and the frontier. We will +pretend to be strangers." Biela's wits were sharpened by the crisis.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can only lose the passage-money," said Leah, and resolved to +take the risk. She wrote a letter to Srul explaining the daring +invasion of New York overland which they were to attempt, and was +about to post it, when Biela said:—</p> + +<p>"Poor Srul! And if I shall not get in after all!" Leah's face fell.</p> + +<p>"True," she pondered. "He will have a more heart-breaking +disappointment than before."</p> + +<p>"Let us not kindle their hopes. After all, if we get in, we shall only +be a few days later than our letter. And then think of the joy of the +surprise."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Biela," and Leah's face glowed again with the +anticipated joy of the surprise.</p> + +<p>The journey to Canada was longer than to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>States, and the +"freight" was less companionable. There were fewer Jews and women, +more stalwart shepherds, miners, and dock-labourers. When after eleven +days, land came, it was not touched at, but only remained cheeringly +on the horizon for the rest of the voyage. At last the sisters found +themselves unmolested on one of the many wharves of Montreal. But they +would not linger a day in this unhomely city. The next morning saw +them, dazed and worn out but happy-hearted, dodging the monstrous +catapults of the New York motor-cars, while a Polish porter helped +them with their bundles and convoyed them toward Srul's store. Ah, +what ecstasy to be unregarded units of this free chaotic crowd. +Outside the store—what a wonderful store it was, larger than the +largest in the weavers' colony!—the sisters paused a moment to roll +the coming bliss under their tongues. They peeped in. Ah, there is +Srul behind the counter, waiting for customers. Ah, ah, he little +knows what customers are waiting for him! They turned and kissed each +other for mere joy.</p> + +<p>"Draw your shawl over your face," whispered Leah merrily. "Go in and +ask him if he has a wedding-veil." Biela slipped in, brimming over +with mischief and tears.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss?" said Srul, with his smartest store manner.</p> + +<p>"I want a wedding-veil of white lace," she said in Yiddish. At her +voice Srul started. Biela could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>keep up the joke no longer. "Srul, my +darling Srul!" she cried hysterically, her arms yearning to reach him +across the counter.</p> + +<p>He drew back, pale, gasping for breath.</p> + +<p>"Ah, my dear ones!" blubbered Leah, rushing in. "God has been good to +you, after all."</p> + +<p>"But—but—how did you get in?" he cried, staring.</p> + +<p>"Never mind how we got in," said Leah, every pock-mark glistening with +smiles and tears. "And where is Tsirrélé—my dear little Tsirrélé?"</p> + +<p>"She—she is out marketing, with the mother."</p> + +<p>"And the mother?"</p> + +<p>"She is well and happy."</p> + +<p>"Thank God!" said Leah fervently, and beckoned the porter with the +bundles.</p> + +<p>"But—but I let the room," he said, flushing. "I did not know that—I +could not afford—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind, we will find a room. The day is yet high." She settled +with the porter.</p> + +<p>Meantime Srul had begun playing nervously with a pair of scissors. He +snipped a gorgeous piece of stuff to fragments.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" said Biela at last.</p> + +<p>"Oh—I—" he burst into a nervous laugh. "And so you ran the blockade +after all. But—but I expect customers every minute—we can't talk +now. Go inside and rest, Biela: you will find a sofa in the parlour. +Leah, I want—I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>Leah flashed a swift glance at him as Biela, vaguely chilled, moved +through the back door into the revivifying splendours of the parlour.</p> + +<p>"Something is wrong, Srul," Leah said hoarsely. "Tsirrélé is not here. +You feared to tell us."</p> + +<p>He hung his head. "I did my best."</p> + +<p>"She is ill—dead, perhaps! My beautiful angel!"</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes. "Dead? No. Married!"</p> + +<p>"What! To whom?"</p> + +<p>He turned a sickly white. "To me."</p> + +<p>In all that long quest of the canopy, Leah had never come so near +fainting as now. The horror of Ellis Island was nothing to this. That +scene resurged, and Tsirrélé's fresh beauty, unflecked by the voyage, +came up luridly before her; the "baby," whom the unnoted years had +made a young woman of fifteen, while they had been aging and staling +Biela.</p> + +<p>"But—but this will break Biela's heart," she whispered, heart-broken.</p> + +<p>"How was I to know Biela would <i>ever</i> get in?" he said, trying to be +angry. "Was I to remain a bachelor all my life, breaking the +Almighty's ordinance? Did I not wait and wait faithfully for Biela all +those years?"</p> + +<p>"You could have migrated elsewhere," she said faintly.</p> + +<p>"And ruin my connection—and starve?" His anger was real by now. +"Besides I have married <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>into the family—it is almost the same thing. +And the old mother is just as pleased."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she!" and all the endured bitterness of the long years was in the +exclamation. "All she wants is grandchildren."</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't," he retorted. "Grandchildren with good eyes."</p> + +<p>"God forgive you," was all the lump in Leah's throat allowed her to +reply. She steadied herself with a hand on the counter, striving to +repossess her soul for Biela's sake.</p> + +<p>A customer came in, and the tragic universe dwindled to a prosaic +place in which ribbons existed in unsatisfactory shades.</p> + +<p>"Of course we must go this minute," Leah said, as Srul clanked the +coins into the till. "Biela cannot ever live here with you now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is better so," he assented sulkily. "Besides, you may as well +know at once. I keep open on the Sabbath, and that would not have +pleased Biela. That is another reason why it was best not to marry +Biela. Tsirrélé doesn't seem to mind."</p> + +<p>The very ruins of her world seemed toppling now. But this new +revelation of Tsirrélé's and his own wickedness seemed only of a piece +with the first—indeed, went far to account for it.</p> + +<p>"You break the Sabbath, after all!"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders. "We are not in Poland any longer. No dead +flies here. Everybody <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>does it. Shut the store two days a week! I +should get left."</p> + +<p>"And you bring your mother's gray hairs down with sorrow to the +grave."</p> + +<p>"My mother's gray hairs are no longer hidden by a stupid black +<i>Shaitel</i>. That is all. I have explained to her that America is the +land of enlightenment and freedom. Her eyes are opened."</p> + +<p>"I trust to God, your father's—peace be upon him!—are still shut!" +said Leah as she walked with slow steady steps into the parlour, to +bear off her wounded lamb.</p> + +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>V</h2> + +<h2>TO DIE IN JERUSALEM</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span><br /> +<a name="V" id="V"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>V<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>TO DIE IN JERUSALEM</h3> + +<br /> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>The older Isaac Levinsky grew, and the more he saw of the world after +business hours, the more ashamed he grew of the Russian Rabbi whom +Heaven had curiously chosen for his father. At first it seemed natural +enough to shout and dance prayers in the stuffy little Spitalfields +synagogue, and to receive reflected glory as the son and heir of the +illustrious Maggid (preacher) whose four hour expositions of Scripture +drew even West End pietists under the spell of their celestial +crookedness. But early in Isaac's English school-life—for cocksure +philanthropists dragged the younger generation to anglicization—he +discovered that other fathers did not make themselves ridiculously +noticeable by retaining the gabardine, the fur cap, and the ear-locks +of Eastern Europe: nay, that a few—O, enviable sons!—could scarcely +be distinguished from the teachers themselves.</p> + +<p>When the guardian angels of the Ghetto apprenticed him, in view of his +talent for drawing, to a lithographic printer, he suffered agonies at +the thought of his grotesque parent coming to sign the indentures.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>"You might put on a coat to-morrow," he begged in Yiddish.</p> + +<p>The Maggid's long black beard lifted itself slowly from the worm-eaten +folio of the Babylonian Talmud, in which he was studying the tractate +anent the payment of the half-shekel head-tax in ancient Palestine. +"If he took the money from the second tithes or from the Sabbatical +year fruit," he was humming in his quaint sing-song, "he must eat the +full value of the same in the city of Jerusalem." As he encountered +his boy's querulous face his dream city vanished, the glittering +temple of Solomon crumbled to dust, and he remembered he was in exile.</p> + +<p>"Put on a coat?" he repeated gently. "Nay, thou knowest 'tis against +our holy religion to appear like the heathen. I emigrated to England +to be free to wear the Jewish dress, and God hath not failed to bless +me."</p> + +<p>Isaac suppressed a precocious "Damn!" He had often heard the story of +how the cruel Czar Nicholas had tried to make his Jews dress like +Christians, so as insidiously to assimilate them away; how the police +had even pulled off the unsightly cloth-coverings of the shaven polls +of the married women, to the secret delight of the pretty ones, who +then let their hair grow in godless charm. And, mixed up with this +story, were vaguer legends of raw recruits forced by their sergeants +to kneel on little broken stones till they perceived the superiority +of Christianity.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>How the Maggid would have been stricken to the heart to know that +Isaac now heard these legends with inverted sympathies!</p> + +<p>"The blind fools!" thought the boy, with ever growing bitterness. "To +fancy that religion can lie in clothes, almost as if it was something +you could carry in your pockets! But that's where most of their +religion does lie—in their pocket." And he shuddered with a vision of +greasy, huckstering fanatics. "And just imagine if I was sweet on a +girl, having to see all her pretty hair cut off! As for those +recruits, it served them right for not turning Christians. As if +Judaism was any truer! And the old man never thinks of how he is +torturing <i>me</i>—all the sharp little stones he makes <i>me</i> kneel on." +And, looking into the future with the ambitious eye of conscious +cleverness, he saw the paternal gabardine over-glooming his life.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>One Friday evening—after Isaac had completed his 'prentice +years—there was anxiety in the Maggid's household in lieu of the +Sabbath peace. Isaac's seat at the board was vacant. The twisted +loaves seemed without salt, the wine of the consecration cup without +savour.</p> + +<p>The mother was full of ominous explanations.</p> + +<p>"Perturb not the Sabbath," reproved the gabardined saint gently, and +quoted the Talmud: "'No <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>man has a finger maimed but 'tis decreed from +above."</p> + +<p>"Isaac has gone to supper somewhere else," suggested his little +sister, Miriam.</p> + +<p>"Children and fools speak the truth," said the Maggid, pinching her +cheek.</p> + +<p>But they had to go to bed without seeing him, as though this were only +a profane evening, and he amusing himself with the vague friends of +his lithographic life. They waited till the candles flared out, and +there seemed something symbolic in the gloom in which they groped +their way upstairs. They were all shivering, too, for the fire had +become gray ashes long since, the Sabbath Fire-Woman having made her +last round at nine o'clock and they themselves being forbidden to +touch even a candlestick or a poker.</p> + +<p>The sunrise revealed to the unclosed eyes of the mother that her boy's +bed was empty. It also showed—what she might have discovered the +night before had religion permitted her to enter his room with a +light—that the room was empty, too: empty of his scattered +belongings, of his books and sketches.</p> + +<p>"God in Heaven!" she cried.</p> + +<p>Her boy had run away.</p> + +<p>She began to wring her hands and wail with oriental amplitude, and +would have torn her hair had it not been piously replaced by a black +wig, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>neatly parted in the middle and now grotesquely placid amid her +agonized agitation.</p> + +<p>The Maggid preserved more outward calm. "Perhaps we shall find him in +synagogue," he said, trembling.</p> + +<p>"He has gone away, he will never come back. Woe is me!"</p> + +<p>"He has never missed the Sabbath service!" the Maggid urged. But +inwardly his heart was sick with the fear that she prophesied truly. +This England, which had seduced many of his own congregants to +Christian costume, had often seemed to him to be stealing away his +son, though he had never let himself dwell upon the dread. His sermon +that morning was acutely exegetical: with no more relation to his own +trouble than to the rest of contemporary reality. His soul dwelt in +old Jerusalem, and dreamed of Israel's return thither in some vague +millennium. When he got home he found that the postman had left a +letter. His wife hastened to snatch it.</p> + +<p>"What dost thou?" he cried. "Not to-day. When Sabbath is out."</p> + +<p>"I cannot wait. It is from him—it is from Isaac."</p> + +<p>"Wait at least till the Fire-Woman comes to open it."</p> + +<p>For answer the mother tore open the envelope. It was the boldest act +of her life—her first breach <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>with the traditions. The Rabbi stood +paralyzed by it, listening, as without conscious will, to her sobbing +delivery of its contents.</p> + +<p>The letter was in Hebrew (for neither parent could read English), and +commenced abruptly, without date, address, or affectionate formality. +"This is the last time I shall write the holy tongue. My soul is +wearied to death of Jews, a blind and ungrateful people, who linger on +when the world no longer hath need of them, without country of their +own, nor will they enter into the blood of the countries that stretch +out their hands to them. Seek not to find me, for I go to a new world. +Blot out my name even as I shall blot out yours. Let it be as though I +was never begotten."</p> + +<p>The mother dropped the letter and began to scream hysterically. "I who +bore him! I who bore him!"</p> + +<p>"Hold thy peace!" said the father, his limbs shaking but his voice +firm. "He is dead. 'The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed +be the name of the Lord.' To-night we will begin to sit the seven +days' mourning. But to-day is the Sabbath."</p> + +<p>"My Sabbath is over for aye. Thou hast driven my boy away with thy +long prayers."</p> + +<p>"Nay, God hath taken him away for thy sins, thou godless +Sabbath-breaker! Peace while I make the Consecration."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>"My Isaac, my only son! We shall say <i>Kaddish</i> (mourning-prayer) for +him, but who will say <i>Kaddish</i> for us?"</p> + +<p>"Peace while I make the Consecration!"</p> + +<p>He got through with the prayer over the wine, but his breakfast +remained untasted.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Re-reading the letter, the poor parents agreed that the worst had +happened. The allusions to "blood" and "the new world" seemed +unmistakable. Isaac had fallen under the spell of a beautiful heathen +female; he was marrying her in a church and emigrating with her to +America. Willy-nilly, they must blot him out of their lives.</p> + +<p>And so the years went by, over-brooded by this shadow of living death. +The only gleam of happiness came when Miriam was wooed and led under +the canopy by the President of the congregation, who sold +haberdashery. True, he spoke English well and dressed like a clerk, +but in these degenerate days one must be thankful to get a son-in-law +who shuts his shop on the Sabbath.</p> + +<p>One evening, some ten years after Isaac's disappearance, Miriam sat +reading the weekly paper—which alone connected her with the world and +the fulness thereof—when she gave a sudden cry.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said the haberdasher.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>"Nothing—I thought—" And she stared again at the rough cut of a head +embedded in the reading matter.</p> + +<p>But no, it could not be!</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ethelred P. Wyndhurst, whose versatile talents have brought him +such social popularity, is rumoured to have budded out in a new +direction. He is said to be writing a comedy for Mrs. Donald O'Neill, +who, it will be remembered, sat to him recently for the portrait now +on view at the Azure Art Club. The dashing <i>comédienne</i> will, it is +stated, produce the play in the autumn season. Mr. Wyndhurst's smart +sayings have often passed from mouth to mouth, but it remains to be +seen whether he can make them come naturally from the mouths of his +characters."</p> + +<p>What had these far-away splendours to do with Isaac Levinsky? With +Isaac and his heathen female across the Atlantic?</p> + +<p>And yet—and yet Ethelred P. Wyndhurst <i>was</i> like Isaac—that +characteristic curve of the nose, those thick eyebrows! And perhaps +Isaac <i>had</i> worked himself up into a portrait-painter. Why not? Did +not his old sketch of herself give distinction to her parlour? Her +heart swelled proudly at the idea. But no! more probably the face in +print was roughly drawn—was only accidentally like her brother. She +sighed and dropped the paper.</p> + +<p>But she could not drop the thought. It clung to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>her, wistful and +demanding satisfaction. The name of Ethelred P. Wyndhurst, whenever it +appeared in the paper—and it was surprising how often she saw it now, +though she had never noticed it before—made her heart beat with the +prospect of clews. She bought other papers, merely in the hope of +seeing it, and was not unfrequently rewarded. Involuntarily, her +imagination built up a picture of a brilliant romantic career that +only needed to be signed "Isaac." She began to read theatrical and +society journals on the sly, and developed a hidden life of +imaginative participation in fashionable gatherings. And from all this +mass of print the name Ethelred P. Wyndhurst disengaged itself with +lurid brilliancy. The rumours of his comedy thickened. It was +christened <i>The Sins of Society</i>. It was to be put on soon. It was not +written yet. Another manager had bid for it. It was already in +rehearsal. It was called <i>The Bohemian Boy</i>. It would not come on this +season. Miriam followed feverishly its contradictory career. And one +day there was a large picture of Isaac! Isaac to the life! She soared +skywards. But it adorned an interview, and the interview dropped her +from the clouds. Ethelred was born in Brazil of an English engineer +and a Spanish beauty, who performed brilliantly on the violin. He had +shot big game in the Rocky Mountains, and studied painting in Rome.</p> + +<p>The image of her mother playing the violin, in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>her preternaturally +placid wig, brought a bitter smile to Miriam's lips. And yet it was +hard to give up Ethelred now. It seemed like losing Isaac a second +time. And presently she reflected shrewdly that the wig and the +gabardine wouldn't have shown up well in print, that indeed Isaac in +his farewell letter had formally renounced them, and it was therefore +open to him to invent new parental accessories. Of course—fool that +she was!—how could Ethelred P. Wyndhurst acknowledge the same +childhood as Isaac Levinsky! Yes, it might still be her Isaac.</p> + +<p>Well, she would set the doubt at rest. She knew, from the wide reading +to which Ethelred had stimulated her, that authors appeared before the +curtain on first nights. She would go to the first night of <i>The +Whirligig</i> (that was the final name), and win either joy or mental +rest.</p> + +<p>She made her expedition to the West End on the pretext of a sick +friend in Bow, and waited many hours to gain a good point of view in +the first row of the gallery, being too economical to risk more than a +shilling on the possibility of relationship to the dramatist.</p> + +<p>As the play progressed, her heart sank. Though she understood little +of the conversational paradoxes, it seemed to her—now she saw with +her physical eye this brilliant Belgravian world, in the stalls as +well as on the stage—that it was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>impossible her Isaac could be of +it, still less that it could be Isaac's spirit which marshalled so +masterfully these fashionable personages through dazzling +drawing-rooms; and an undercurrent of satire against Jews who tried to +get into society by bribing the fashionables, contributed doubly to +chill her. She shared in the general laughter, but her laugh was one +of hysterical excitement.</p> + +<p>But when at last amid tumultuous cries of "Author!" Isaac Levinsky +really appeared,—Isaac, transformed almost to a fairy prince, as +noble a figure as any in his piece, Isaac, the proved master-spirit of +the show, the unchallenged treader of all these radiant circles,—then +all Miriam's effervescing emotion found vent in a sobbing cry of joy.</p> + +<p>"Isaac!" she cried, stretching out her arms across the gallery bar.</p> + +<p>But her cry was lost in the applause of the house.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>She wrote to him, care of the theatre. The first envelope she had to +tear up because it was inadvertently addressed to Isaac Levinsky.</p> + +<p>Her letter was a gush of joy at finding her dear Isaac, of pride in +his wonderful position. Who would have dreamed a lithographer's +apprentice would arrive at leading the fashions among the nobility and +gentry? But she had always believed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>in his talents; she had always +treasured the water-colour he had made of her, and it hung in the +parlour behind the haberdasher's shop into which she had married. He, +too, was married, they had imagined, and gone to America. But perhaps +he <i>was</i> married, although in England. Would he not tell her? Of +course, his parents had cast him out of their hearts, though she had +heard mother call out his name in her sleep. But she herself thought +of him very often, and perhaps he would let her come to see him. She +would come very quietly when the grand people were not there, nor +would she ever let out that he was a Jew, or not born in Brazil. +Father was still pretty strong, thank God, but mother was rather +ailing. Hoping to see him soon, she remained his loving Miriam.</p> + +<p>She waited eagerly for his answer. Day followed day, but none came.</p> + +<p>When the days passed into weeks, she began to lose hope; but it was +not till <i>The Whirligig</i>, which she followed in the advertisement +columns, was taken off after a briefer run than the first night seemed +to augur, that she felt with curious conclusiveness that her letter +would go unanswered. Perhaps even it had miscarried. But it was now +not difficult to hunt out Ethelred P. Wyndhurst's address, and she +wrote him anew.</p> + +<p>Still the same wounding silence. After the lapse of a month, she +understood that what he had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>written in Hebrew was final; that he had +cut himself free once and forever from the swaddling coils of +gabardine, and would not be dragged back even within touch of its hem. +She wept over her second loss of him, but the persistent thought of +him had brought back many tender childish images, and it seemed +incredible that she would never really creep into his life again. He +had permanently enlarged her horizon, and she continued to follow his +career in the papers, worshipping it as it loomed grandiose through +her haze of ignorance. Gradually she began to boast of it in her more +English circles, and so in course of time it became known to all but +the parents that the lost Isaac was a shining light in high +heathendom, and a vast secret admiration mingled with the contempt of +the Ghetto for Ethelred P. Wyndhurst.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>In high heathendom a vast secret contempt mingled with the admiration +for Ethelred P. Wyndhurst. He had, it is true, a certain vogue, but +behind his back he was called a Jew. He did not deserve the stigma in +so far as it might have implied financial prosperity. His numerous +talents had only availed to prevent one another from being seriously +cultivated. He had had a little success at first with flamboyant +pictures, badly drawn, and well paragraphed; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>he had written tender +verses for music, and made quiet love to ugly and unhappy society +ladies; he was an assiduous first-nighter, and was suspected of +writing dramatic criticisms, even of his own comedy. And in that +undefined social segment where Kensington and Bohemia intersect, he +was a familiar figure (a too familiar figure, old fogies grumbled) +with an unenviable reputation as a diner-out—for the sake of the +dinner.</p> + +<p>Yet some of the people who called him "sponge" were not averse from +imbibing his own liquids when he himself played the gracious host. He +was appearing in that rôle one Sunday evening before a motley assembly +in his dramatically furnished studio, nay, he was in the very act of +biting into a sandwich scrupulously compounded with ham, when a +telegram was handed to him.</p> + +<p>"Another of those blessed actresses crying off," he said. "I wonder +how they ever manage to take up their cues!"</p> + +<p>Then his face changed as he hurriedly crumpled up the pinkish paper.</p> + +<p>"Mother is dying. No hope. She cries to see you. Have told her you are +in London. Father consents. Come at once.—<span class="sc">Miriam.</span>"</p> + +<p>He put the crumpled paper to the gas and lit a new cigarette with it.</p> + +<p>"As I thought," he said, smiling. "When a woman is an actress as well +as a woman—"</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>VI</h4> + +<p>After his wife died—vainly calling for her Isaac—the old Maggid was +left heart-broken. It was as if his emotions ran in obedient harmony +with the dictum of the Talmud: "Whoso sees his first wife's death is +as one who in his own day saw the Temple destroyed."</p> + +<p>What was there for him in life now but the ruins of the literal +Temple? He must die soon, and the dream that had always haunted the +background of his life began to come now into the empty foreground. If +he could but die in Jerusalem!</p> + +<p>There was nothing of consequence for him to do in England. His Miriam +was married and had grown too English for any real communion. True, +his congregation was dear to him, but he felt his powers waning: other +Maggidim were arising who could speak longer.</p> + +<p>To see and kiss the sacred soil, to fall prostrate where once the +Temple had stood, to die in an ecstasy that was already Gan-Iden +(Paradise)—could life, indeed, hold such bliss for him, life that had +hitherto proved a cup of such bitters?</p> + +<p>Life was not worth living, he agreed with his long-vanished +brother-Rabbis in ancient Babylon, it was only a burden to be borne +nobly. But if life was not worth living, death—in Jerusalem—was +worth dying. Jerusalem! to which he had turned three <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>times a day in +praying, whose name was written on his heart, as on that of the +mediæval Spanish singer, with whom he cried:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who will make to me wings that I may fly ever Eastward,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until my ruined heart shall dwell in the ruins of thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then will I bend my face to thy sacred soil and hold precious<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy very stones, yea e'en to thy dust shall I tender be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Life of the soul is the air of thy land, and myrrh of the purest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each grain of thy dust, thy waters sweetest honey of the comb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joyous my soul would be, could I even naked and barefoot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the holy ruins of thine ancient Temple roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the Ark was shrined, and the Cherubim in the Oracle had their home."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>To die in Jerusalem!—that were success in life.</p> + +<p>Here he was lonely. In Jerusalem he would be surrounded by a glorious +host. Patriarchs, prophets, kings, priests, rabbonim—they all hovered +lovingly over its desolation, whispering heavenly words of comfort.</p> + +<p>But now a curious difficulty arose. The Maggid knew from +correspondence with Jerusalem Rabbis that a Russian subject would have +great difficulty in slipping in at Jaffa or Beyrout, even aided by +<i>bakhshîsh</i>. The only safe way was to enter as a British subject. +Grotesque irony of the fates! For nigh half a century the old man had +lived in England in his gabardine, and now that he was departing to +die in gabardine lands, he was compelled to seek naturalization as a +voluntary Englishman! He was even <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>compelled to account mendaciously +for his sudden desire to identify himself with John Bull's +institutions and patriotic prejudices, and to live as a free-born +Englishman. By the aid of a rich but pious West End Jew, who had +sometimes been drawn Eastwards by the Maggid's exegetical eloquence, +all difficulties were overcome. Armed with a passport, signed floridly +as with a lion's tail rampant, the Maggid—after a quasi-death-bed +blessing to Miriam by imposition of hands from the railway-carriage +window upon her best bonnet—was whirled away toward his holy +dying-place.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>Such disappointment as often befalls the visionary when he sees the +land of his dreams was spared to the Maggid, who remained a visionary +even in the presence of the real; beholding with spiritual eye the +refuse-laden alleys and the rapacious <i>Schnorrers</i> (beggars). He lived +enswathed as with heavenly love, waiting for the moment of transition +to the shining World-To-Come, and his supplications at the Wailing Wall +for the restoration of Zion's glory had, despite their sympathetic +fervour, the peaceful impersonality of one who looks forward to no +worldly kingdom. To outward view he lived—in the rare intervals when +he was not at a synagogue or a house-of-learning—somewhere up a dusky +staircase in a bleak, narrow court, in one tiny room supplemented by a +kitchen in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>the shape of a stove on the landing, itself a centre of +pilgrimage to <i>Schnorrers</i> innumerable, for whom the rich English +Maggid was an unexpected windfall. Rich and English were synonymous in +hungry Jerusalem, but these beggars' notion of charity was so modest, +and the coin of the realm so divisible, that the Maggid managed to +gratify them at a penny a dozen. At uncertain intervals he received a +letter from Miriam, written in English. The daughter had not carried on +the learned tradition of the mother, and so the Maggid was wont to have +recourse to the head of the philanthropic technical school for the +translation of her news into Hebrew. There was, however, not much of +interest; Miriam's world had grown too alien: she could scrape together +little to appeal to the dying man. And so his last ties with the past +grew frailer and frailer, even as his body grew feebler and feebler, +until at last, bent with great age and infirmity, so that his white +beard swept the stones, he tottered about the sacred city like an +incarnation of its holy ruin. He seemed like one bent over the verge of +eternity, peering wistfully into its soundless depths. Surely God would +send his Death-Angel now.</p> + +<p>Then one day a letter from Miriam wrenched him back violently from his +beatific vision, jerked him back to that other eternity of the dead +past.</p> + +<p>Isaac, Isaac had come home! Had come home to find desolation. Had then +sought his sister, and was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>now being nursed by her through his dying +hours. His life had come to utter bankruptcy: his possessions—by a +cruel coincidence—had been sold up at the very moment that the +doctors announced to him that he was a doomed man. And his death-bed +was a premature hell of torture and remorse. He raved incessantly for +his father. Would he not annul the curse, grant him his blessing, +promise to say <i>Kaddish</i> for his soul, that he might be saved from +utter damnation? Would he not send his forgiveness by return, for +Isaac's days were numbered, and he could not linger on more than a +month or so?</p> + +<p>The Maggid was terribly shaken. He recalled bitterly the years of +suffering, crowned by Isaac's brutal heedlessness to the cry of his +dying mother: but the more grievous the boy's sin, the more awful the +anger of God in store for him.</p> + +<p>And the mother—would not her own Gan-Iden be spoilt by her boy's +agonizing in hell? For her sake he must forgive his froward offspring; +perhaps God would be more merciful, then. The merits of the father +counted: he himself was blessed beyond his deserts by the merits of +the Fathers—of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He had made the pilgrimage +to Jerusalem; perhaps his prayers would be heard at the Mercy-Seat.</p> + +<p>With shaking hand the old man wrote a letter to his son, granting him +a full pardon for the sin against himself, but begging him to entreat +God day and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>night. And therewith an anthology of consoling Talmudical +texts: "A man should pray for Mercy even till the last clod is thrown +upon his grave.... For Repentance and Prayer and Charity avert the +Evil Decree." The Charity he was himself distributing to the startled +<i>Schnorrers</i>.</p> + +<p>The schoolmaster wrote out the envelope, as usual, but the Maggid did +not post the letter. The image of his son's death-bed was haunting +him. Isaac called to him in the old boyish tones. Could he let his boy +die there without giving him the comfort of his presence, the visible +assurance of his forgiveness, the touch of his hands upon his head in +farewell blessing? No, he must go to him.</p> + +<p>But to leave Jerusalem at his age? Who knew if he would ever get back +to die there? If he should miss the hope of his life! But Isaac kept +calling to him—and Isaac's mother. Yes, he had strength for the +journey. It seemed to come to him miraculously, like a gift from +Heaven and a pledge of its mercy.</p> + +<p>He journeyed to Beyrout, and after a few days took ship for +Marseilles.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p>Meantime in the London Ghetto the unhappy Ethelred P. Wyndhurst found +each day a year. He was in a rapid consumption: a disorderly life had +told as ruinously upon his physique as upon his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>finances. And with +this double collapse had come a strange irresistible resurgence of +early feelings and forgotten superstitions. The avenging hand was +heavy upon him in life,—what horrors yet awaited him when he should +be laid in the cold grave? The shadow of death and judgment +over-brooded him, clouding his brain almost to insanity.</p> + +<p>There would be no forgiveness for him—his father's remoteness had +killed his hope of that. It was the nemesis, he felt, of his refusal +to come to his dying mother. God had removed his father from his +pleadings, had wrapped him in an atmosphere holy and aloof. How should +Miriam's letter penetrate through the walls of Jerusalem, pierce +through the stonier heart hardened by twenty years of desertion!</p> + +<p>And so the day after she had sent it, the spring sunshine giving him a +spurt of strength and courage, a desperate idea came to him. If he +could go to Jerusalem himself! If he could fall upon his father's +neck, and extort his blessing!</p> + +<p>And then, too, he would die in Jerusalem!</p> + +<p>Some half-obliterated text sounded in his ears: "And the land shall +forgive sin."</p> + +<p>He managed to rise—his betaking himself to bed, he found, as the +sunshine warmed him, had been mere hopelessness and self-pity. Let him +meet Death standing, aye, journeying to the sun-lands. Nay, when +Miriam, getting over the alarm of his up-rising, began to dream of the +Palestine climate curing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>him, he caught a last flicker of optimism, +spoke artistically of the glow and colour of the East, which he had +never seen, but which he might yet live to render on canvas, winning a +new reputation. Yes, he would start that very day. Miriam pledged her +jewellery to supply him with funds, for she dared not ask her husband +to do more for the stranger.</p> + +<p>But long before Ethelred P. Wyndhurst reached Jaffa he knew that only +the hope of his father's blessing was keeping him alive.</p> + +<p>Somewhere at sea the ships must have passed each other.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p>When the gabardined Maggid reached Miriam's house, his remains of +strength undermined by the long journey, he was nigh stricken dead on +the door-step by the news that his journey was vain.</p> + +<p>"It is the will of God," he said hopelessly. The sinner was beyond +mercy. He burst into sobs and tears ran down his pallid cheeks and +dripped from his sweeping white beard.</p> + +<p>"Thou shouldst have let us know," said Miriam gently. "We never +dreamed it was possible for thee to come."</p> + +<p>"I came as quickly as a letter could have announced me."</p> + +<p>"But thou shouldst have cabled."</p> + +<p>"Cabled?" The process had never come within <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>his ken. "But how should +I dream he could travel? Thy letter said he was on his death-bed. I +prayed God I might but arrive in time."</p> + +<p>He was for going back at once, but Miriam put him to bed—the bed +Isaac should have died in.</p> + +<p>"Thou canst cable thy forgiveness, at least," she said, and so, +without understanding this new miracle, he bade her ask the +schoolmaster to convey his forgiveness to his son.</p> + +<p>"Isaac will inquire for me, if he arrives alive," he said. "The +schoolmaster will hear of him. It is a very small place, alas! for God +hath taken away its glory by reason of our sins."</p> + +<p>The answer came the same afternoon. "Message just in time. Son died +peacefully."</p> + +<p>The Maggid rent his bed-garment. "Thank God!" he cried. "He died in +Jerusalem. Better he than I! Isaac died in Jerusalem! God will have +mercy on his soul."</p> + +<p>Tears of joy sprang to his bleared eyes. "He died in Jerusalem," he +kept murmuring happily at intervals. "My Isaac died in Jerusalem."</p> + +<p>Three days later the Maggid died in London.</p> + +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>VI</h2> + +<h2>BETHULAH</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<a name="VI" id="VI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>VI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>BETHULAH</h3> + +<br /> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>The image of her so tragically trustful in that mountain village of +Bukowina still haunts my mind, and refuses to be exorcised, as of +yore, by the prose of life. One who is very dear to me advises driving +her out at the point of the pen. Whether such recording of my life's +strangest episode will lay these memories or not, the story itself may +at least instruct my fellow-Jews in New York how variously their +religion has manifested itself upon this perplexing planet. Doubtless +many are still as ignorant as I was respecting their mediæval +contemporaries in Eastern Europe. True, they have now opportunities in +their own Ghetto—which is, for cosmopolitanism, a New York within a +New York—of studying strata from other epochs of Judaism spread out +on the same plane of time as their own, even as upon the white sheet +of that wonderful invention my aged eyes have lived to see, sequent +events may be pictured simultaneously. In my youth these opportunities +did not exist. Only in Baltimore and a few of the great Eastern +cities <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>was there any aggregation of Jews, and these were all—or +wanted to be—good Yankees; while beyond the Mississippi, where my +father farmed and hunted like a Christian, and where you might have +scoured a thousand square miles to get <i>minyan</i> (ten Jews for +worship), our picturesque customs and ceremonies dwindled away from +sheer absence of fellowship. My father used to tell of a bronzed +trapper he breakfasted with on the prairie, who astonished him by +asking him over their bacon if he were a Jew. "Yes," said my father. +"Shake!" said the trapper. "You're the first fellow-Jew I've met for +twenty years." Though in my childhood my father taught me the Hebrew +he had brought from Europe, and told me droll Jewish stories in his +native German, it will readily be understood that the real influences +I absorbed were the great American ideals of liberty and humanity, +emancipation and enlightenment, and that therefore the strange things +I witnessed among the Carpathians were far more startling to me than +they can be to the Jews of to-day upon whom the Old World has poured +its archaic inhabitants. Nevertheless, I cannot but think that even +those who have met strange drifts of sects in New York will be +astonished by the tradition which I stumbled upon so blindly in my +first European tour. For, so far as I can gather, the Zloczszol legend +is unique in Jewish history and confined exclusively to this +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>out-of-the-way corner, however near other heresies may have approached +to some of the underlying conceptions. My landlord Yarchi's view that +it was a mere piece of local commercial myth-making, a gross artifice, +would have at least the merit of explaining this uniqueness. It has, +in my eyes, no other.</p> + +<p>This tour of mine was to make not a circle, but a half-circle, for, +landing at Hamburg I was to return by the Baltic, after a circuit +through Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Buda-Pesth, Lemberg, (where my +grandfather had once been a rabbi of consideration), Moscow, and St. +Petersburg. I did not linger at Hamburg; purchasing a stout horse, I +started on my long ride. Of course it did not seem so long to me—who +had already ridden from Kansas to both of our seaboards—as it would +to a young gentleman of to-day accustomed to parlour cars, though the +constant change of dialects and foods was somewhat unsettling.</p> + +<p>But money speaks all languages, and a good Western stomach digests all +diets. Bad water, however, no stomach can cope with; and I was laid up +at Prague with a fever, which left me too weak to hurry on. I rambled +about the Ghetto—the Judenstadt—which gave me my first insight into +mediæval Judaism, and was fascinated by the quaint alleys and houses, +the Jewish town-hall, and the cellarlike <i>Alt-Neu</i> synagogue with its +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>miraculous history of unnumbered centuries. I heard the story of the +great red flag on the pillar, with its "shield of David" and the +Swede's hat, and was shown on the walls the spatterings of the blood +of the martyrs of 1389.</p> + +<p>What emotions I had in the old graveyard—a Ghetto of the dead—where +the graves were huddled together, three and four deep, and the very +tombstones and corpses had undergone Ghetto persecution! A whole new +world opened out to me, crooked as the Ghetto alleys—so alien from +the free life of the flowering prairies—as I walked about this +"Judengarten," studying the Hebrew inscriptions and the strange +symbolic sculptures—the Priest's hands of blessing, the Levite's +ewer, the Israelites' bunch of grapes, the Virgin with roses—and +trying to reconstruct the life these dead had lived. Strange ancestral +memories seemed thrilling through me, helping me to understand. Many +stories did I hear, too, of the celebrated Rabbi Löw, and of the +<i>golem</i> he created, which brought him his meals: in sign whereof I was +shown his grave, and his house marked with a lion on a blue +background. I listened with American incredulity but hereditary +sympathy. I was astonished to find men who still believed in a certain +Sabbataï Zevi, Messiah of the Jews, and one showed me a Sabbatian +prayer-book with a turbaned head of this Redeemer side by side with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>King David's, and another who scoffed at this seventeenth-century +impostor, yet told me the tradition in his own family, how they had +sold their business and were about to start for Palestine, when the +news reached them that so far from deposing the Sultan, this Redeemer +of Israel had become his doorkeeper and a Mohammedan.</p> + +<p>The year was passing toward the Fall ere I got to Buda-Pesth (in those +days the enchanted gateway of the Orient, resounding with gypsy music, +and not the civilized capital I found it the other day), and I had not +proceeded far on the northerly bend of my journey when, soon after +crossing the Carpathians, I was imprisoned in the mountain village of +Zloczszol by the sudden overflow of the Dniester. The village itself +was sheltered from the floods by a mountain between it and the +tributary of the Dniester; but all the roads northward were +impassable, and the water came round by clefts and soused our +bordering fields and oozed very near the maize-garden of Yarchi's pine +cottage, to which I had removed from the dirty inn, where a squalling +baby in a cradle had shared the private sitting-room. It was a very +straggling village, which began to straggle at the mountain-foot, but, +for fear of avalanches, I was told, the houses did not grow +companionable till some half a mile down the plain.</p> + +<p>In the centre of the village was a cobble-paved <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>"Ring-Place" and +market-place, on which gave a few streets of shops (the +provision-shops benefiting hugely by the floods, which made imports +difficult). It was a Jewish colony, with the exception of a few +outlying farms, whose peasants brought touches of gorgeous colour into +the procession of black gabardines. It was strange to me to live in a +place in which every door-post bore a <i>Mezuzah</i>. It gave me a novel +sense of being in a land of Israel, and sometimes I used to wonder how +these people could feel such a sense of local patriotism as seemed to +possess them. And yet I reflected that, like the giant cedar of +Lebanon which rose from the plain in such strange contrast with the +native trees of Zloczszol, Israel could be transplanted everywhere, +and was made of as enduring and undying a wood—nay, that, even like +this cedar-wood, it had strange properties of conserving other +substances and arresting putrefaction. Hence its ubiquitous patriotism +was universally profitable. Nevertheless, this was one of the +surprises of my journey—to find Jews speaking every language under +the European sun, regarding themselves everywhere as part of the soil, +and often patriotic to the point of resenting immigrant Jews as +foreigners. I myself was popularly known as "the Stranger," though I +was not resented, because the couple of dollars at which I purchased +the privilege of "ark-opening" on my <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>first visit to the synagogue—a +little Gothic building standing in a court-yard—gave me a further +reputation as "the rich stranger." Once I blushed to overhear myself +called "the handsome stranger," and I looked into my cracked mirror +with fresh interest. But I told myself modestly a stalwart son of the +prairies had an unfair advantage in such a world of stooping sallow +students. Certainly I felt myself favoured both in youth and looks +when I stepped into the Beth-Hamedrash, the house of study (which I +had at first taken for a little mosque, like those I had seen on the +slopes of Buda), and watched the curious gnarled graybeards crooning +and rocking the livelong day over worm-eaten folios.</p> + +<p>Despite such odd glimpses of the interesting, I grew as tired of +waiting for the waters to abate as Noah himself must have felt in his +zoological institute.</p> + +<p>One day as I was gazing from my one-story window at the melancholy +marsh to which the flood had reduced the landscape, I said glumly to +my hunchbacked landlord, who stood snuffing himself under the porch, +"I suppose it will be another week before I can get away."</p> + +<p>"Alas! yes," Yarchi replied.</p> + +<p>"Why alas?" I asked. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and +the longer I stay the better for you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>He shook his head. "The flood that keeps you here keeps away the +pilgrims."</p> + +<p>"The pilgrims!" I echoed.</p> + +<p>"Ay," said he. "There will be three in that bed of yours."</p> + +<p>"But what pilgrims?"</p> + +<p>He stared at me. "Don't you know the New Year is nigh?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," I said mendaciously. I felt ashamed to confess my +ignorant unconcern as to the proximity of the solemn season of +ram's-horn blasts and penitence.</p> + +<p>"Well, it is at New Year the pilgrims flock to their Wonder Rabbi, +that he may hear their petitions and bear them on high, likewise +wrestle with Satan, and entreat for their forgiveness at the throne of +Grace." There was a twinkle in Yarchi's eyes not quite consistent with +the gravity of his words.</p> + +<p>"Do Wonder Rabbis live nowadays?" I asked.</p> + +<p>A pinch of snuff Yarchi was taking fell from between his fingers. "Do +they live!" he cried. "Yes—and off white bread, for poverty!"</p> + +<p>"We have none in America. I only heard of one in Prague," I murmured +apologetically, fearing the genus might be of the very elements of +Judaism.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, the high Rabbi Löw, his memory for a blessing," he said +reverently. "But these new Wonder Rabbis can only work one miracle."</p> + +<p>"What is that?" I asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>"The greatest of all—making their worshippers support them like +princes." And he laughed in admiration of his own humour.</p> + +<p>"Then you are a heretic?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Heretic!" Yarchi's black eyes exchanged their twinkle for a flash of +resentment. "Nay; they are the heretics, breeding dissension in +Israel. Did they not dance on the grave of the sainted Elijah Wilna?"</p> + +<p>Tired of tossing the ball of conversation up and down, I left the +window and joined the philosopher under his porch, where I elicted +from him his version of the eighteenth-century movement of +<i>Chassidim</i>, (the pious ones), which, in these days of English books +on Judaism, will not be so new to American Jews as it was to me. These +Shakers (or, as we should perhaps say nowadays, Salvationists), these +protestants against cut-and-dried Judaism, who arose among the +Carpathians under the inspiration of Besht (a word which Yarchi +explained to me was made out of the initials of Baal Shem Tob—the +Master of the Good Name), had, it seemed, pullulated into a thousand +different sects, each named after the Wonder Rabbi whom it swore by, +and in whose "exclusive divine right" (the phrase is Yarchi's) it +believed.</p> + +<p>"But <i>we</i> have the divinest chief," concluded Yarchi, grinning.</p> + +<p>"That's what they all say, eh?" I said, smiling in response.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but the Zloczszol rabbi is stamped with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>royal seal. He +professes to be of the Messianic seed, a direct descendant of David, +the son of Jesse." And the hunchback chuckled with malicious humour.</p> + +<p>"I should like to see him," I said, feeling as if Providence had +provided a new interest for my boredom.</p> + +<p>Yarchi pointed silently with his discoloured thumb over the plain.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean he is kept in that storehouse!" I said.</p> + +<p>Yarchi guffawed in high good-humour.</p> + +<p>"That! That's the <i>Klaus</i>!"</p> + +<p>"And what's the <i>Klaus</i>?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Chassidim Stubele</i> (little room)."</p> + +<p>"Is that where the miracles are done?"</p> + +<p>"No; that's their synagogue."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they just pray there!"</p> + +<p>"Pray? They get as drunk as Lot."</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>I returned to my window and gazed curiously at the <i>Klaus</i>, and now +that my eye was upon it I saw it was astir with restless life. Men +came and went continually. I looked toward the synagogue, and the more +pretentious building seemed dead. Then I remembered what Yarchi had +told me, that the <i>Chassidim</i> had revolted against set prayer-times. +("They pray and drink at all hours," was his way of putting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>it.) +Something must always be forward in the <i>Klaus</i>, I thought, as I took +my hat and stick, on exploring bent. Instinctively I put my pistol in +my hip pocket, then bethought myself with a laugh that I was not +likely to be molested by the "pious ones." But as it was unloaded, I +let it remain in the pocket.</p> + +<p>I slipped into the building and on to a bench near the door. But for +the veiled Ark at the end, I should not have known the place for a +house of worship. True, some men were sitting or standing about, +shouting and singing, with odd spasmodic gestures, but the bulk were +lounging, smoking clay pipes, drinking coffee, and chattering, while a +few, looking like tramps, lay snoring on the hard benches, deaf to all +the din. My eye sought at once for the Wonder Rabbi himself, but amid +the many quaint physiognomies there was none with any apparent seal of +supremacy. The note of all the faces was easy-going good-will, and +even the passionate contortions of melody and body which the +worshippers produced, the tragic clutchings at space, the clinching of +fists, and the beating of breasts had an air of cheery impromptu. They +seemed to enjoy their very tears. And every now and then the +inspiration would catch one of the gossipers and contort him likewise, +while a worshipper would as suddenly fall to gossiping.</p> + +<p>Very soon a frost-bitten old man I remembered coming across in the +cemetery on the mountain-slope, where he was sweeping the fallen +leaves from a tomb, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>and singing like the grave-digger in <i>Hamlet</i>, +sidled up to me and asked me if I needed vodka. I thought it advisable +to need some, and was quickly supplied from a box the old fellow +seemed to keep under the Ark. The price was so moderate that I tipped +him with as much again, doubtless to the enhancement of the "rich +stranger's" reputation. Sipping it, I was able to follow with more +show of ease the bursts of rambling conversation. Sometimes they +talked about the floods, anon about politics, then about sacred texts +and the illuminations of the <i>Zohar</i>. But there was one topic which +ran like a winding pattern through all the talk, bursting in at the +most unexpected places, and this was the wonders wrought by their +rabbi.</p> + +<p>As they dilated "with enkindlement" upon miracle after miracle, some +wrought on earth and some in the higher spheres to which his soul +ascended, my curiosity mounted, and calling for more vodka, "Where is +the rabbi?" I asked the sexton.</p> + +<p>"He may perhaps come down to lunch," said he, in reverent accents, as +if to imply that the rabbi was now in the upper spheres. I waited till +tables were spread with plain fare in the <i>Klaus</i> itself. At the +savour the fountain of worship was sealed; the snorers woke up. I was +invited to partake of the meal, which, I was astonished to find, was +free to all, provided by the rabbi.</p> + +<p>"Truly royal hospitality," I thought. But our royal host himself did +not "come down."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>My neighbour, of whom I kept inquiring, at last told me, +sympathetically, to have patience till Friday evening, when the rabbi +would come to welcome in the Sabbath. But as it was then Tuesday, +"Cannot I call upon him?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "Ben David holds his court no more this year," he +said. "He is in seclusion, preparing for the exalted soul-flights of +the pilgrim season. The Sabbath is his only public day now."</p> + +<p>There was nothing for it but to wait till the Friday eve, though in +the meantime I got Yarchi to show me the royal palace—a plain +two-storied Oriental-looking building with a flat roof, and a turret +on the eastern side, whose high, ivy-mantled slit of window turned at +the first rays of the sun into a great diamond.</p> + +<p>"He couldn't come down, couldn't he?" Yarchi commented. "I daresay he +wasn't sober enough."</p> + +<p>Somehow this jarred upon me. I was beginning to conjure up romantic +pictures, and assuredly my one glimpse of the sect had not shown any +intoxication save psychic.</p> + +<p>"He is very generous, anyhow," I said. "He supplies a free lunch."</p> + +<p>"Free to him," retorted the incorrigible Yarchi. "The worshippers +fancy it is free, but it is they who pay for it." And he snuffed +himself, chuckling. "I'll tell you what is free," he added. "His +morals!"</p> + +<p>"But how do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, all those fellows go in for the Adamite life."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>"What is the Adamite life?"</p> + +<p>He winked. "Not the pre-Evite."</p> + +<p>I saw it was fruitless to reason with his hunchbacked view of the +subject.</p> + +<p>On the Friday eve I repaired again to the <i>Klaus</i>, but this time it +was not so easy to find a seat. However, by the grace of my friend the +sexton, I was accommodated near the Ark, where, amid a congregation +clad in unexpected white, I sat, a conscious black discord. There was +a certain palpitating fervour in the air, as though the imminence of +the New Year and Judgment Day had strung all spirits to a higher +tension. Suddenly a shiver seemed to run through the assemblage, and +all eyes turned to the door. A tall old man, escorted by several +persons of evident consideration, walked with erect head but tottering +gait to the little platform in front of the Ark, and, taking a +praying-shawl from the reverential hand of the sexton, held it a +moment, as in abstraction, before drawing it over his head and +shoulders. As he stood thus, almost facing me, yet unconscious of me, +his image was photographed on my excited brain. He seemed very aged, +with abundant white locks and beard, and he was clothed in a white +satin robe cut low at the neck and ornamented at the breast with +gold-laced, intersecting triangles of "the Shield of David."</p> + +<p>On his head was a sort of white biretta. I noted a curious streak of +yellow in the silvered eyebrows, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>as if youth clung on, so to speak, +by a single hair, and underneath these arrestive eyebrows green pupils +alternately glowed and smouldered. On his forefinger he wore a signet +ring, set with amethysts and with a huge Persian emerald, which, as +his hand rose and fell, and his fingers clasped and unclasped +themselves in the convulsion of prayer, seemed to glare at me like a +third green eye. And as soon as he began thus praying, every trace of +age vanished. He trembled, but only from emotion; and his passion +mounted, till at last his whole body prayed. And the congregation +joined in with shakings and quiverings and thunderings and ululations. +Not even in Prague had I experienced such sympathetic emotion. After +the well-regulated frigidities of our American services, it was truly +warming to be among worshippers not ashamed to feel. Hours must have +passed, but I sat there as content as any. When the service ended, +everybody crowded round the Wonder Rabbi to give the "Good Sabbath" +handshake. The scene jarred me by its incongruous suggestion of our +American receptions at which the lion of the evening must extend his +royal paw to every guest. But I went up among the rest, and murmured +my salutation. The glow came into his eyes as they became conscious of +me for the first time, and his gaunt bloodless hand closed crushingly +on mine, so that I almost fancied the signet ring was sealing my +flesh.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>"Good Sabbath, stranger," he replied. "You linger long here."</p> + +<p>"As long as the floods," I said.</p> + +<p>"Are you as dangerous to us?" he flashed back.</p> + +<p>"I trust not," I said, a whit startled.</p> + +<p>His jewelled forefinger drummed on the reading-stand, and his eyes no +longer challenged mine, but were lowered as in abstraction.</p> + +<p>"Your grandfather, who lies in Lemberg, was no friend to the followers +of Besht. He laid the ban even on white Sabbath garments, and those +who but wept in the synagogues he classed with us."</p> + +<p>I was more taken aback by his knowledge of my grandfather than by that +ancient gentleman's hostility to the emotional heresy of his day.</p> + +<p>"I never saw my grandfather," I replied simply.</p> + +<p>"True. The son of the prairies should know more of God than the +bookworms. Will you accept a seat at my table?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure, Rabbi," I murmured, dazed by his clairvoyant air.</p> + +<p>They were now arranging the two tables, one with a white cloth for the +master and his circle in strict order of precedence; and the other of +bare wood for such of the rabble as could first scramble into the +seats. I was placed on his right hand, and became at once an object of +wonder and awe. The <i>Kiddush</i> which initiated the supper was not a +novel ceremony to me, but what I had never seen before <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>was the +eagerness with which each guest sipped from the circulating wine-cup +of consecration, and the disappointment of such of the mob as could +find no drop to drain. Still fiercer was the struggle for the Wonder +Rabbi's soup, after he had taken a couple of spoonfuls; even I had no +chance of distinction before this sudden simultaneous swoop, though of +course I had my own plateful to drink. As sudden was the transition +from soup to song, the whole company singing and swaying in victorious +ecstasy. I turned to speak to my host, but his face awed me. The eyes +had now their smouldering inward fire. The eyebrows seemed wholly +white; the features were still. Then as I watched him his whole body +grew rigid, he closed his eyes, his head fell back. The singing +ceased; as tense a silence reigned as though the followers too were in +a trance. My eyes were fixed on the Master's blind face, which had now +not the dignity of death, but only the indignity of lifelessness, and, +but for the suggestion of mystery behind, would have ceased to impress +me. For there was now revealed a coarseness of lips, a narrowness of +forehead, an ugliness of high cheek-bone, which his imperial glance +had transfigured, and which his flowing locks still abated. But as I +gazed, the weird stillness took possession of me. I could not but feel +with the rest that the Master was making a "soul-ascension."</p> + +<p>It seemed very long—yet it may have been only <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>a few minutes, for in +absolute silence one's sense of time is disconcerted—ere waves of +returning life began to traverse the cataleptic face and form. At last +the Wonder Rabbi opened his eyes, and the hush grew profounder. Every +ear was astrain for the revelations to come.</p> + +<p>"Children," said he slowly, "as I passed through the circles the souls +cried to me. 'Haste, haste, for the Evil One plotteth and the +Messianic day will be again delayed.' So I rose into the ante-chamber +of Grace where the fiery wheels sang 'Holy, holy,' and there I came +upon the Poison God waiting to see the glory of the Little Face. And +with him was a soul, very strange, such as I had never seen, living +neither in heaven nor hell, perchance created of Satan himself for his +instrument. Then with a great cry I uttered the Name, and the Poison +God fled with a great fluttering, leaving the nameless, naked soul +helpless amid the consuming, dazzling wheels. So I returned through +the circles to reassure the souls, and they shouted with a great +shout."</p> + +<p>"Hallelujah!" came in a great shout from the wrought-up listeners, and +then they burst into a lilting chant of triumph. But by this time my +mood had changed. The spell of novelty had begun to wear off; perhaps +also I was fatigued by the long strain. I recalled the coarser face of +the comatose saint, and I found nothing but gibberish in the oracular +"revelation" which he had brought down with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>such elaborate pains from +the circles amid which he seemed to move.</p> + +<p>Thanking him for his hospitality, I slipped from the hot, roaring +room.</p> + +<p>Ah! what a waft of fresh air and sense of starlit space! The young +moon floated in the star-sprinkled heavens like a golden boat, with a +faint suggestion of the full-sailed orb. The true glamour and mystery +of the universe were again borne in upon me, as in our rich, +constellated prairie nights, and all the artificial abracadabra of the +<i>Klaus</i> seemed akin to its heated, noisy atmosphere. The lights of the +village were extinguished, and, looking at my watch, I found it was +close upon midnight. But as I passed the saint's "palace" I was +astonished to find a light twinkling from the turret window. I +wondered who kept vigil. Then I bethought me it was Friday night when +no light could be struck, and this must be Ben David's bed-room lamp, +awaiting his return.</p> + +<p>"I thought he had taken you up in his fiery chariot," grumbled Yarchi +sleepily, as he unbarred the door.</p> + +<p>"The fiery chariot must not run on the Sabbath," I said smiling. "And, +moreover, Ben David takes no passengers to the circles."</p> + +<p>"Circles! He ought to have a circle of rope round his neck."</p> + +<p>"The soup was good," I pleaded, as I groped my way toward my quaint, +tall bed.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>III</h4> + +<p>I cannot explain why, when Yarchi asked me sarcastically, over the +Sabbath dinner, whether I was going to the "Supper of the Holy Queen," +I knew at once that I should be found at this mysterious meal. Perhaps +it was that I had nothing better to do; perhaps my sympathy was +returning to those strange, good-humoured, musical loungers, so far +removed from the New York ideal of life. Or perhaps I was vaguely +troubled by the dream I had wrestled with more or less obscurely all +night long—that I stood naked in a whirl of burning wheels that sang, +as they turned, the melody of the <i>Chassidim</i>. Was I this nondescript +soul, I wondered, half smilingly, fashioned of the Evil One to delay +the Messianic era?</p> + +<p>The sun was set, the three stars already in the sky, and my pious +landlord had performed the Ceremony of Division ere I set out, +declining the bread and fish Yarchi offered to make up in a package.</p> + +<p>"Saturday nights every man must bring his own meal," he said.</p> + +<p>I replied that I went not to eat, but to look on. However, I was so +late in arriving that, as there were no lights, looking on was +well-nigh reduced to listening. In the gray twilight the <i>Klaus</i> +seemed full of uncanny forms rocking in monotonous sing-song. Through +the gathering gloom the old Wonder <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>Rabbi's face loomed half +ghostlike, half regal. As the mystic dusk grew deeper and darkness +fell, the fascination of it all began to overcome me: the dim, +tossing, crooning figures, divined rather than seen, washed round +lappingly and swayingly by their own rhythmic melody, full of wistful +sweetness. My soul too tossed in this circumlapping tide. The complex +world of modern civilization fell away from me as garments fall from a +bather. Even this primitive mountain village passed into nothingness, +and in a timeless, spaceless universe I floated in a lulling, +measureless music.</p> + +<p>Æons might have elapsed ere the glare of light dazzled my eyes when +the week-day candles were lit, and the supper to escort the departing +Holy Queen—the Sabbath—began. Again I was invited to the upper +table, despite Yarchi's warning. But I had no appetite for earthly +things, was jarred by the prosaic gusto with which the mystics threw +themselves upon the tureen of red <i>Borsch</i> and the black pottle of +brandy.</p> + +<p>"Der Rabbi hat geheissen Branntwein trinken," hummed the sexton +joyously. But little by little, as their stomachs grew satiate, the +holy singing started afresh, and presently they leaped up, pulled +aside the table, and made a whirling ring. I was caught up into the +human cyclone, and round and round we flew, our hands upon one +another's shoulders, with blind ecstatic faces, our legs kicking out +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>madly, to repel, I understood, the embryonic demons outside the magic +circle. And again methought I made a "soul-ascension," or at least +hovered as near to the ineffable mysteries as the demoniacles to our +magic circle.</p> + +<p>Oh, what inexpressible religious raptures were mine! What no gorgeous +temple, nor pealing organ, nor white-robed minister had ever wrought +for me was wrought in this barracklike room with its rude benches and +wooden ark. "Children of the Palace" we sang, and as I strove to pick +up the words I thought we were indeed sons of our Father who is in +Heaven.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">CHILDREN OF THE PALACE<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Children of the Palace, haste—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All who yearn the bliss to taste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the glorious Little-Faced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, within the King's house placed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines the sapphire throne enchased.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, in joyful dance enlaced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mock the cold and primly chaste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See no sullen nor straitlaced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our circle may be traced.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here with th' Ancient One embraced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inmost truth 'tis ours to taste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outer husks are shred to waste.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Children of the Palace, haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the glory to be graced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, behold the Little-Faced.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We broke up some hours earlier than the previous evening, but I hurried +away from my sauntering <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>fellow-worshippers, not now because I was +disgusted, but because I feared to be. I needed solitude—communion +with my own soul. The same crescent moon hung in the heavens, the same +endless stars drew on the thoughts to a material infinity.</p> + +<p>But now I felt there was another and a truer universe encompassing +this painted vision—a spiritual universe of which I had hitherto +known nothing, though I had glibly prated of it and listened +well-satisfied to sermons about it.</p> + +<p>The air was warm and pleasant, and, still thrilling with the sense of +the Over-Soul, I had passed the outposts of the village almost +unconsciously, and walked in the direction of the cemetery on the +other slope of the mountain (for the dead feared neither floods nor +avalanches). On my left ran the river, still turbulent and encumbered +with wreckage and logs, but now at low tide some feet below the level +of its steep banks. The road gradually narrowed till at last I was +walking on a mere strip of path between the starlit water and the base +of the mountain, which rose ineffably solemn with its desolate rock at +my side and its dark pines higher up. And suddenly lifting my eyes, I +saw before me a mystic moonlit figure that set my heart beating with +terror and surprise.</p> + +<p>It was the figure of a woman, or rather of a girl, tall, queenly, +shining in a strange white robe, with a crown of roses and olive +branches. For a moment <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>she seemed like some spirit of moonlight. But +though the eyes were misted with sadness and dream, the face was of +the most beautiful Jewish oval, glowing with dark creamy flesh.</p> + +<p>A wild idea rose to my mind, and, absurdly enough, stilled my beating +heart. This was the Holy Queen Sabbath whose departure we had just +been celebrating, and in this unfrequented haunt she abode till the +twilight of the next Friday.</p> + +<p>"Hail, Holy Queen!" I said, almost involuntarily.</p> + +<p>I saw her large beautiful eyes grow larger as she woke with a start to +my presence, but she only inclined her head with a sovereign air, as +one used to adoration, and floated on—for so her gracious motion +seemed to me.</p> + +<p>And as she passed by, it flashed upon me that the strange white robe +was nothing but a shroud. And again a great horror seized me. But +struggling with my failing senses, I told myself that at worst it was +some poor creature buried alive in the graveyard, who had forced the +coffin lid, and now wandered half insanely homewards.</p> + +<p>"May I not escort you, lady?" I cried after her. "The way is lonely."</p> + +<p>She turned her face again upon me. I saw it had fire as well as +mystery.</p> + +<p>"Who dare molest the Holy Queen?" she said.</p> + +<p>Again I was plunged into the wildest bewilderment. Was my first fancy +true? Or had I stumbled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>upon some esoteric title she bore? Or had she +but seized on my own phrase?</p> + +<p>"But you go far?" I persisted.</p> + +<p>"Unto my father's house."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me. I am a stranger."</p> + +<p>She turned round wholly now and looked at me. "Oh, are <i>you</i> the +<i>Stranger</i>?" she said. The question rippled like music from her lips +and was as sweet to my ear, linking her to me by the suggestion that I +was not new to her imagination.</p> + +<p>"I am the Stranger," I answered, moving slowly toward her, "and +therefore afraid for your sake, and startled by the shroud you wear."</p> + +<p>"Since the dawn of my thirteenth year it has been my daily robe. It +should be in lamentation for Zion laid waste. But me, I fear, it +reminds more of my dead mother and sisters."</p> + +<p>"You had sisters?"</p> + +<p>"Two beautiful lives, blown out one after the other like candles, +making our home dark, when I was but a child. They too wore shrouds in +life and death, first the elder, then the younger; and when I draw +mine over my dress, it is of them I think always. I feel we are truly +sisters—sisters of the shroud."</p> + +<p>I shivered as from some chill graveyard air, despite her sweet +corporeality.</p> + +<p>"But the crown—the crown of joy?" I murmured, regarding now with +closer vision the intertangled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>weaving of roses and myrtle and olive +branches, with gold and crimson threads wound about salt stones and +the pale yellow of pyrites.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what it signifies," she said simply.</p> + +<p>"Are you not the Holy Queen?" I asked, beginning to scent some +Cabalistic or <i>Chassidic</i> mystery.</p> + +<p>"Men worship me. But I know not of what I am queen." And a wistful +smile played about the sweet mouth. "Peace and sweet dreams to you, +sir." And she turned her face to the village.</p> + +<p>She knew not of what she was queen. There, all in one sentence, was +the charm, the wonder, the pathos, of her. Yet there was still much +that she knew that would enlighten me. And it was not wholly curiosity +that provoked me to hold the vision. I hated to see the enchantment of +her presence dissolve, to be robbed of the liquid notes of her voice.</p> + +<p>"You are queen of me at least," I said, following her, and throwing +all my republican principles into the river among the other wreckage. +"And your Majesty's liege cannot endure to see you walk unattended so +late in the night."</p> + +<p>"I have God's company," she answered quietly.</p> + +<p>"True; He is always with us. Nevertheless, at night and in the +mountains—"</p> + +<p>"He may be perceived more clearly. My father makes soul-ascensions at +any hour by force of prayer. But for me the divine ecstasy comes only +under God's heaven, and most clearly at night and among <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>the graves. +By day God is invisible, like the stars."</p> + +<p>"They may be perceived from a well," I said, mechanically, for my +brain was busy with the intuition that she was Ben David's daughter, +that her "queendom" was somehow bound up with his alleged royal +descent.</p> + +<p>"Even so is God visible from the deeps of the spirit," she answered. +"But these depths are not mine, and day speaks to me less surely of +Him."</p> + +<p>"The day is divine too," I urged. "God speaks also through joy, +through sunshine."</p> + +<p>"It is but the gilding of sorrow."</p> + +<p>"Nay, that is too hard a saying. How can you know that? You"—I made a +bold guess, for my brain had continued to work feverishly—"who live +cloistered in a turret, who are kept sequestered from man, who walk at +night, and only among the dead. How can you know that life is so sad?"</p> + +<p>"I feel it. Is not every stone in the graveyard hewn from the dead +heart of the mourners?"</p> + +<p>All the sadness of the world was in her eyes, yet somehow all the +sweet solace. Again she bade me good-night, and I was so under the +spell of her strange reply that I made no further effort to follow +her, as she was swallowed up in the gloom of the firs where the path +wound back round the mountain.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>IV</h4> + +<p>The floods abated before the New Year dawned, as was testified by the +arrival, not of doves with olive leaves, but of pilgrims from the +north with shekels. The road was therefore open for me to go, yet I +lingered. I told myself it was the fascination of the pilgrims, that +curious new population which brought quite a bustle into the +"Ring-Place" of Zloczszol, and gave even the shops of the native +<i>Chassidim</i> a live air. There were unpleasant camp-followers in the +train of the invading army, cripples and consumptives, both rich and +poor; but, on the whole, it was a cheery, well-to-do company. I +retained my room by paying the rent of three lodgers, and even then +Yarchi would come in and look at the big, tall bed wistfully, as if it +were a waste of sleeping material.</p> + +<p>The great episode of each day was now the royal levee. Crowds besieged +the door of the "palace," in quest of health, wealth, and happiness, +and the proprietor of fields had to squeeze in with the tramp, and the +peasant woman and her neglected brat jostled the jewelled dame from +the towns. I was glad to think that the "Holy Queen" was hidden safely +away in her turret, and this consoled me for not meeting her again, +though I walked or trotted about on my bay mare at all hours and in +all places in quest of her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>It may seem curious that I did not boldly call and ask to see her, but +that would bring the commonplace into our so poetic relation. Besides +which, I divined that she would not be easily on view. Beyond +indirectly justifying my intuition that she was Ben David's daughter +by satisfying myself that the Wonder Rabbi had once had three girls, +two of whom had died, I would not even make inquiries. I feared to +dissipate the mystery and sacredness of our relation by gossip. +Perhaps Yarchi would tell me she was mad, or treat me to some other +coarse misconception due to the callous feelers with which he +apprehended the world.</p> + +<p>I did not even know for certain that the light I saw in the turret was +hers. But when at night it was out, I hastened to the river-side, to +see only my own shadow on the hushed mountain slope or on the white +tombs. It seemed clear that she was being kept sacred from the +pilgrims' gaze; perhaps, too, the deserted, untravelled road which was +safe as her own home in normal times, was less secure now.</p> + +<p>When I at last ventured to say casually to Yarchi that Ben David's +daughter seemed to be kept strictly to the house, the ribald grin I +had feared distorted his malicious mouth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you have seen Bethulah!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I murmured, turning my flushed face away, but glad to learn her +name. Bethulah! Bethulah! my heart seemed to beat to the music of it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>"Does she still stalk about in a shroud?" He did not wait for an +answer, but went off into unending laughter, which doubled him up till +his hunch protruded upward like a camel's.</p> + +<p>"She does not go about at all now," I said freezingly. But this set +Yarchi cachinnating worse than ever.</p> + +<p>"He daren't trust even his own disciples, you see! Ha! ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>"Yarchi!" I cried angrily, "you know Bethulah must be kept sacred from +this rabble," and I switched with my riding-whip at the poppies that +grew among the maize in the little front garden, as if they were +pilgrims and I a Tarquin.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that's Ben David's game. But I wish some man would marry +her and ruin his business. Ha! ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>"It would ruin yours too," I reminded him, more angrily. "You are +ready enough to let lodgings to the pilgrims."</p> + +<p>Yarchi shrugged his hump. "If fools are fools, wise men are wise men," +he replied oracularly.</p> + +<p>I strode away, but he had heated my brain with a new idea, or one that +I now allowed myself to see clearly. Some man might marry her. Then +why should I not be that man? Why should I not carry Bethulah back to +America with me—the most precious curiosity of the Old World—a +frank, virginal creature with that touch of the angel which I had +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>dreamed of but had never met among our smart girls—up to then. And +even if it were true that Ben David was a fraud, and needed the girl +for his Cabalistic mystifications, even so I was rich enough to recoup +him. The girl herself was no conscious accessory; of that I felt +certain.</p> + +<p>When my brain cooled, suggestions of the other aspects of the question +began to find entrance. What of Bethulah herself? Why should she care +to marry me? Or to go to the strange, raw country? And such a +union—was it not too incongruous, too fantastic, for practical life? +Thus I wrestled with myself for three days, all the while watching +Bethulah's turret or the roads she might come by. On the third night I +saw a wild mob of men at the turret end of the house, dancing in a +ring and singing, with their eyes turned upward to the light that +burnt on high. Their words I could not catch at first through the +tumultuous howl, but it went on and on, like their circumvolutions, +over and over again, till my brain reeled. It seemed to be an appeal +to Bethulah to plead their cause on the coming <i>Yom-Hadin</i> (New-Year +day of Judgment):—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"By thy soul without sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enter heaven within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This divine <i>Yom-Hadin</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Holy Maid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Undertake thou our plea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the Poison God be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answered stoutly by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Holy Queen."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="noin"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>When I came to write this down afterward, I discovered it was an +acrostic on her name, as is customary with festival prayers. And this +I have preserved in my rough translation.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>Despite my new spiritual insight, I could not bring myself to +sympathize with such crude earthly visionings of the heavenly judgment +bar (doubtless borrowed from the book of Job, which our enlightened +Western rabbis rightly teach to be allegorical). Temporary absorption +into the Over-Soul seemed to me to sum up the limits of <i>Chassidic</i> +experience. Besides, Bethulah was not a being to be employed as a sort +of supernatural advocate, but a sad, tender creature needing love and +protection.</p> + +<p>This mob howling outside my lady's chamber added indignation to my +strange passion for this beautiful "sister of the shroud." I would +rescue her from this grotesque environment. I would go to her father +and formally demand her hand, as, I had learnt, was the custom among +these people. I slept upon the resolution, yet in the morning it was +still uncrumpled; and immediately after breakfast I took my stand +among the jostling crowd outside the turreted house, and unfairly +secured precedence by a gold piece slipped into the palm of the +doorkeeper. The scribe I found stationed in the ante-chamber <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>made me +write my wish on a piece of paper, which, however, I was instructed to +carry in myself.</p> + +<p>Ben David was seated in a curious soft-cushioned, high-backed chair, +with the intersecting triangles making a carved apex to it, but +otherwise there was no mark of what Yarchi would have called +charlatanism. His face, set between a black velvet biretta and the +white masses of his beard, had the dignity with which it had first +impressed me, and his long, fur-trimmed robe gave him an air of +mediæval wisdom.</p> + +<p>"Peace be to you, long-lingering stranger," he said, though his green +eyes glittered ominously.</p> + +<p>"Peace," I murmured uneasily.</p> + +<p>With his left hand he put the still folded paper to his brow. I +watched the light playing on the Persian emerald seal of the ring on +the forefinger of his right hand. Suddenly I perceived he too was +looking at the stone—nay, into it—and that while that continued to +glitter, his own eyes had grown glazed.</p> + +<p>"Strange, strange," he muttered. "Again I see the fiery wheels, and +the strange soul fashioned of Satan that dwells neither in heaven nor +in hell." And his eyes lit up terribly again and rolled like fiery +wheels.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he cried harshly.</p> + +<p>"It is written on the paper," I faltered, "just two words."</p> + +<p>He opened the paper and read out, "Your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>daughter!" His eyes rolled +again. "What know you of my daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know all about her," I said airily.</p> + +<p>"Then you know that my daughter does not receive pilgrims."</p> + +<p>"Nay, 'tis I that wish to receive your daughter," I ventured jocosely, +with a touch of levity I did not feel. He raised his clinched hand as +if to strike me, and I had a lurid sense of three green eyes glaring +at me. I stood my ground as coolly as possible, and said, in dry, +formal tones, "I wish to make application for her hand."</p> + +<p>A great blackness came over the frosted visage, as if his black +biretta had been suddenly drawn forward, and his erst blanched +eyebrows gloomed like a black lightning-cloud over the baleful eyes.</p> + +<p>I shrank back, then I had a sudden vision of the wagons clattering +down Broadway in a live, sunlit, go-ahead world, and the Wonder Rabbi +turned into an absurd old parent with a beautiful daughter and a bad +temper.</p> + +<p>"I am a man of substance," I went on dryly. "In my country I have fat +lands."</p> + +<p>The horribleness of thus bidding for Bethulah flashed on me even as I +spoke. To mix up a creature of mist and moonlight with substance and +fat lands! Monstrous! And yet I knew that thus, and thus only, by +honourable talk with her guardian, could a Zloczszol bride be won.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>But the Wonder Rabbi sprang to his feet so vehemently that his +high-backed chair rocked as in a gale.</p> + +<p>"Dog!" he shrieked. "Blasphemer!"</p> + +<p>I summoned all my American sang-froid.</p> + +<p>"Dog," I agreed, "inasmuch as I follow your daughter like a dog, +humbly, lovingly. But blasphemer? Say rather worshipper. For I worship +Bethulah."</p> + +<p>"Then worship her like the others," he roared. Had I not heard him +pray, I should have expected the hoary patriarch to collapse after +such an outburst.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," I said. "I don't want her to fly up to heaven for me. I +want her to come down to earth—from her turret."</p> + +<p>"She will not come down to any earthly spouse," he said more gently. +"Quite the reverse."</p> + +<p>"Then I will make a soul-ascension," I said defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Get back to hell, spawn of Satan!" he thundered again. "Or since, +strange son of the New World, you neither believe nor disbelieve, +hover eternally between hell and heaven!"</p> + +<p>"Meantime I am here," I said good-humouredly, "between you and your +daughter. Come, come, be sensible; you are a very old man. Where in +Zloczszol will you find a superior husband for your child?"</p> + +<p>"The Lord, to whom she is consecrated, forgive you your blasphemy," he +said, in a changed voice, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>and rang his bell, so that the next +applicant came in and I had to go.</p> + +<p>It was plain the girl was kept as a sacred celibate, a sort of vestal +virgin—Bethulah was the very Hebrew for virgin, it suddenly flashed +upon me. But how came such practices into Judaism—Judaism, with its +cheery creed, "increase and multiply?" And <i>Chassidism</i>, I had +hitherto imagined, was the cheeriness of Judaism concentrated! In +Yarchi's version it was even license—"the Adamite life." I raked up +my memories of the Bible—remembered Jephtha's daughter. But no! there +could be no question of a vow; this was some new <i>Chassidic</i> mystery. +The crown and the shroud! The shroud of renunciation, the crown of +victory!</p> + +<p>And for some fantastic shadow-myth a beautiful young life was to be +immolated. My respect for <i>Chassidism</i> vanished as suddenly as it +came.</p> + +<p>But I was powerless. I could only wait till the flood of pilgrims +oozed back, even as the waters had done. Then perhaps Bethulah might +walk again upon the moonlit mountain-peak, or in the "house of life," +as the cemetery was mystically called.</p> + +<p>The penitential season, with its trumpets and terrors, +judgment-writings and sealings, was over at last, and Tabernacles came +like a breath of air and nature. Yarchi hammered up a little wooden +booth in the corner of his front garden, and hung grapes and oranges +and flowers from its loose roof of boughs, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>through which the stars +peeped at us as we ate. It struck me as a very pretty custom, and I +wondered why American Judaism had let it fall into desuetude. Ere the +break-up of these booths the pilgrims had begun to melt away, the old +sleepiness to fall upon Zloczszol.</p> + +<p>Hence I was startled one morning by the passage of a joyous procession +that carried torches and played on flutes and tambourines. I ran out +and discovered that I was part of a wedding procession escorting a +bride. As this was a company not of <i>Chassidim</i>, but of everyday Jews, +bound for the little Gothic synagogue, I was surprised, despite my +experience of the Tabernacles, to find such picturesque goings-on, and +I went all the way to the courtyard, where the rabbi came out to meet +us with the bridegroom, who, it seemed, had already been conducted +hither with parallel pomp. The happy youth—for he could only have +been sixteen—was arrayed in festival finery, with white shoes on his +feet and black phylacteries on his forehead, which was further +over-gloomed by a cowl. He took the bride's hand, and then we all +threw wheat over their heads, crying three times, "<i>Peru, Urvu</i>" (Be +fruitful and multiply). But just when I expected the ceremony to +begin, the bride was snatched away, and we all filed into the +synagogue to await her return.</p> + +<p>I had fallen into a mournful reverie—perhaps the suggestion of my own +infelicitous romance was too <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>strong—when I felt a stir of excitement +animating my neighbours, and, looking up, lo! I saw a tall female +figure in a white shroud, with a veiled face, and on her head a crown +of roses and myrtles and olive branches. A shiver ran through me. +"Bethulah!" I cried half-aloud. My neighbours smiled, and as I +continued to stare at the figure, I saw it was only the bride, thus +transmogrified for the wedding canopy. And then some startling half +comprehension came to me. Bethulah's dress was a bride's dress, then. +She was made to appear a perpetual bride. Of whom? To what Cabalistic +mystery was this the key? The Friday night hymn sprang to my mind.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, come, my beloved, to meet the Bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The face of the Sabbath let us welcome."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>For a moment I thought I held the solution, and that my very first +conjecture had been warranted. The Holy Queen Sabbath was also +typified as the Sabbath Bride, and this dual allegory it was that +Bethulah incarnated. Or perchance it was Israel, the Bride of God!</p> + +<p>But I was still dissatisfied. I felt that the truth lay deeper than a +mere poetic metaphor or a poetical masquerading. I discovered it at +last, but at the risk of my life.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>VI</h4> + +<p>I continued to walk nightly on the narrow path between the mountain +and the river, like the ghost of one drowned, but without a glimpse of +Bethulah. At last it grew plain that her father had warned her against +me, that she had changed the hour of her exercise and soul-ascension, +or even the place. I was indebted to accident for my second vision of +this strange creature.</p> + +<p>I had diverted myself by visiting the neighbouring village, a +refreshing contrast to Jewish Zloczszol, from the rough garland-hung +wayside crosses (which were like sign-posts to its gilt-towered +church) to the peasant women in pink aprons and top boots.</p> + +<p>A marvellous sunset was well-nigh over as I struck the river-side that +curved homewards. The bank was here very steep, the river running as +between cliffs. In the sky great drifts of gold-flushed cloud hung +like relics of the glory that had been, and the autumn leaves that +muffled my mare's footsteps seemed to have fallen from the sunset. In +the background the white peak of the mountain was slowly parting with +its volcanic splendour. And low on the horizon, like a small lake of +fire in the heart of a tangled bush, the molten sun showed monstrous +and dazzling.</p> + +<p>And straight from the sunset over the red leaves Bethulah came +walking, rapt as in prophetic thought, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>shrouded and crowned, preceded +by a long shadow that seemed almost as intangible.</p> + +<p>I reined in my horse and watched the apparition with a great flutter +at my heart. And as I gazed, and thought of her grotesque worshippers, +it was borne in upon me how unbefittingly Nature had peopled her +splendid planet. The pageantry of dawn and sunset, of seas and +mountains, how incongruous a framework for our petty breed, sordidly +crawling under the stars. Bethulah alone seemed fitted to the high +setting of the scene. She matched this lone icy peak, this fiery +purity.</p> + +<p>"Bethulah!" I said, as she was almost upon my horse.</p> + +<p>She looked up, and a little cry that might have been joy or surprise +came from her lips. But by the smile that danced in her eyes and the +blood that leapt to her cheeks, I saw with both joy and surprise that +this second meeting was as delightful to her as to me.</p> + +<p>But the conscious Bethulah hastened to efface what the unconscious had +revealed. "It is not right of you, stranger, to linger here so long," +she said, frowning.</p> + +<p>"I am your shadow," I replied, "and must linger where you linger."</p> + +<p>"But you are indeed a shadow, my father says—a being fashioned of the +Poison God to work us woe."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>"No, no," I said, laughing; "my horse bears no shadow. And the Poison +God who fashioned me is not the absurd horned and tailed tempter you +have been taught to believe in, but a little rosy-winged god, with a +bow and poisoned arrows."</p> + +<p>"A little rosy-winged god?" she said. "I know of none such."</p> + +<p>"And you know not of what you are queen," I retorted, smiling.</p> + +<p>"There is but one God," she insisted, with sweet seriousness. "See, He +burns in the bush, yet it is not consumed."</p> + +<p>She pointed to where the red sinking sun seemed to eat out the heart +of the bush through which we saw it.</p> + +<p>"Thus this love-god burns in our hearts," I said, lifted up into her +poetic strain, "and we are not consumed, only glorified."</p> + +<p>I strove to touch her hand, which had dropped caressingly on my +horse's neck. But she drew back with a cry.</p> + +<p>"I may not listen. This is the sinful talk my father warned me of. +Fare you well, stranger." And with swift step she turned homewards.</p> + +<p>I sat still a minute or two, half-disconcerted, half-content to gaze +at her gracious motions; then I touched the mare with my heel, and she +bounded off in pursuit. But at this instant three men in long +gabardines and great round velvet hats started <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>forward from the +thicket, shouting and waving lighted pine-branches, and my frightened +animal reared and plunged, and then broke into a mad gallop, making +straight for the river curve between the cliffs. I threw myself back +in the saddle, tugging desperately at the creature's mouth; but I +might have been a child pulling at an elephant. I shook my feet free +of the stirrups and prepared to tumble off as best I could, rather +than risk the plunge into the river, when a projecting bough made me +duck my head instinctively; but as I passed under it, with another +instinctive movement I threw out my hands to clasp it, and, despite a +violent wrench that seemed to pull my arms out of their sockets and +swung my feet high forward, I hung safely. The mare, eased of my +weight, was at the river-side the next instant, and with a wild, +incredible leap alighted with her forefeet and the bulk of her body on +the other bank, up which she scraped convulsively, and then stood +still, trembling and sweating. I could not get at her, so, trusting +she would find her way home safely, I dropped to the ground and ran +back, with a mixed idea of finding Bethulah and chastising the three +scoundrels. But all were become invisible.</p> + +<p>I walked half a mile across the plain to get to the rough pine bridge; +and, once on the other bank, I had no difficulty in recovering the +mare. She cantered up to me, indeed, and put her soft and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>still +perspiring nose in my palm and whinnied her apologetic congratulations +on our common escape.</p> + +<p>I rode slowly home, reflecting on the new turn in my love affairs, for +it was plain that Bethulah had now been provided with a body-guard, of +which she was as unconscious as of her body itself.</p> + +<p>But for the apparent necessity of her making soul-ascensions under +God's heaven, I supposed she would not have been allowed to take the +air at all with such a creature of Satan hovering.</p> + +<p>I stood sunning myself the next day on the same pine bridge, looking +down on the swift current, and regretting there was no rail to lean on +as one watched the fascinating flow of the beautiful river. It struck +me as inordinately blue,—perhaps, I analyzed, by contrast with the +long, sinuous weeds which here glided and tossed in the current like +green water-snakes. These flexible greens reminded me of the Wonder +Rabbi's eyes and his emerald seal; and I turned, with some sudden +premonition of danger, just in time to dodge the attack of the same +three ruffians, who must have been about to push me over.</p> + +<p>In an instant I had whipped out my pistol from my hip pocket, and +cried, "Stand, or I fire!"</p> + +<p>The trio froze instantly in odd attitudes, which was lucky, as my +pistol was unloaded. They looked almost comical in their air of abject +terror. Their narrow, fanatical foreheads, with ringlets of piety +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>hanging down below the velvet, fur-trimmed hats, showed them more +accustomed to murdering texts than men. Had I not been still +smouldering over yesterday's trick, I could have pitied them for the +unwelcome job thrust upon their unskilled and apparently even +unweaponed hands by the machinations of the Poison God and the orders +of Ben David. One of them seemed quite elderly, and one quite young. +The middle-aged one had a goitre, and perhaps that made me fancy him +the most sinister, and keep my eye most warily upon him.</p> + +<p>"Sons of Belial," I said, recalling a biblical phrase that might be +expected to prick, "why do you seek my life?"</p> + +<p>Two of them cowered under my gaze, but the elderly <i>Chassid</i>, seeing +the shooting was postponed, spoke up boldly: "We are no sons of +Belial. You are the begotten of Satan; you are the arch enemy of +Israel."</p> + +<p>"I?" I protested in my turn. "I am a plain God-fearing son of +Abraham."</p> + +<p>"A precious scion of the Patriarch's seed, who would delay the coming +of the Messiah!"</p> + +<p>Again that incomprehensible accusation.</p> + +<p>"You speak riddles," I said.</p> + +<p>"How so? Did you not tell Ben David—his horn be exalted—that you +knew all concerning Bethulah? Then must you know that of her +immaculacy will the Messiah be born, one ninth of Ab."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>A flood of light burst upon me—mystic, yet clarifying; blinding, yet +dissipating my darkness. My pistol drooped in my hand. My head swam +with a whirl of strange thoughts, and Bethulah, already divine to me, +took on a dazzling aureola, sailed away into some strange supernatural +ether.</p> + +<p>"Have we not been in exile long enough?" said the youngest. "Shall a +godless stranger tamper with the hope of generations?"</p> + +<p>"But whence this mad hope?" I said, struggling under the mystic +obsession of his intensity.</p> + +<p>"Mad?" began the first, his eyes spitting fire; but the younger +interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"Is not our saint the sole scion of the house of David? Is not his +daughter the last of the race?"</p> + +<p>"And what if she is?"</p> + +<p>"Then who but she can be the destined mother of Israel's Redeemer?"</p> + +<p>The goitred <i>Chassid</i> opened his lips and added, "If not now, when? as +Hillel asked."</p> + +<p>"In our days at last must come the crowning glory of the house of Ben +David," the young man went on. "For generations now, since the signs +have pointed to the millennium, have the daughters of the house been +kept unwedded."</p> + +<p>"What!" I cried. "Generations of <i>Bethulahs</i> have been sacrificed to a +dream!"</p> + +<p>Again the eyes of the first <i>Chassid</i> dilated dangerously. I raised my +pistol, but hastened to ask, in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>more conciliatory tone, "Then how +has the line been carried on?"</p> + +<p>"Through the sons, of course," said the young <i>Chassid</i>. "Now for the +first time there are no sons, and only one daughter remains, the +manifest vessel of salvation."</p> + +<p>I tried to call up that image of bustling Broadway that had braced me +in colloquy with the old Wonder Rabbi, but it seemed shadowy now, +compared with this world of solid spiritualities which begirt me. +Could it be the same planet on which such things went on +simultaneously? Or perhaps I was dreaming, and these three grotesque +creatures were the product of Yarchi's cookery.</p> + +<p>But their hanging curls had a daylight definiteness, and down in the +sunlit, translucent river I could see every shade of colour, from the +green of the sinuous reed-snakes to the brown of the moss patches.</p> + +<p>On the bank walked two crows, and I noted for the first time with what +comic pomposity they paced, their bodies bent forward like two +important old gentlemen with their hands in the pockets of their black +coat tails. They brought a smile to my face, but a menacing movement +of the <i>Chassidim</i> warned me to be careful.</p> + +<p>"And does the girl know all this?" I asked hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"She did not yesterday," said the elderly fellow. "Now she has been +told."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>There was another long pause. I meditated rapidly but disjointedly, +having to keep an eye against a sudden rush of my assailants, and +mistrusting the goitred saint yet the more because he was so silent.</p> + +<p>"And is Bethulah content with her destiny?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"She is in the seventh heaven," said the elderly saint.</p> + +<p>I had a poignant shudder of incredulous protest. I recalled the flush +of her sweet face at the sight of me, and brief as our meetings had +been, I dared to feel that the irrevocable thrill had passed between +us; that the rest would have been only a question of time.</p> + +<p>"Let Bethulah tell me so herself," I cried, "and I will leave her in +her heaven."</p> + +<p>The men looked at one another. Then the eldest shook his head. "No; +you shall never speak to her again."</p> + +<p>"We have maidens more beautiful among us," said the young man. "You +shall have your choice. Ay, even my own betrothed would I give you."</p> + +<p>I flicked aside his suggestion. "But you cannot prevent Bethulah +walking under God's heaven." They looked dismayed. "I will meet her," +I said, pursuing my advantage. "And Yarchi and other good Jews shall +be at hand."</p> + +<p>"She shall be removed elsewhere," said the first.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>"I will track her down. Ah, you are afraid," I said mockingly. "You +see it is not true that she is content to be immolated."</p> + +<p>"It is true," they muttered.</p> + +<p>"True as the Torah," added the elderly man.</p> + +<p>"Then there is no harm in her telling me so."</p> + +<p>"You may bear her off on your horse," said he of the goitre.</p> + +<p>"I will go on foot. Let her bid me go away, and I will leave +Zloczszol."</p> + +<p>Again they looked at one another, and the relief in their eyes brought +heart-sinking into mine. Yes, it was true. Bethulah was in the glow of +a great surrender; she was still tingling with the revelation of her +supreme destiny. To put her to the test now would be fatal. No; let +her have time to meditate; ay, even to disbelieve.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow you shall speak with her, and no man shall know," said the +oldest <i>Chassid</i>.</p> + +<p>"No, not to-morrow. In a week or two."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you wish to linger among us," he replied suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"I will go away till the appointed day," I replied readily.</p> + +<p>"Good. Continue your travels. Let us say a month, or even two."</p> + +<p>"If you will not spirit her away in my absence."</p> + +<p>"It is as easy to do so in your presence."</p> + +<p>"So be it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>"Shall we say—the eve of Chanukah?" he suggested.</p> + +<p>It was my turn to regard him suspiciously. But I could see nothing to +cavil at. He had merely mentioned an obvious date—that of the next +festival landmark. Chanukah—the feast of rededication of the Temple +after the Grecian pollution—the miracle of the unwaning oil, the +memorial lighting of lights; there seemed nothing in these to work +unduly upon the girl's soul, except in so far as the inspiring +tradition of Judas Maccabæus might attach her more devotedly to her +conceptions of duty and self-dedication. Perhaps, I thought, with a +flash of jealous anger, they meditated a feast of rededication of her +after the pollution of my presence had been removed. Well, we should +see.</p> + +<p>"The eve of Chanukah," I agreed, with a nonchalant air. "Only let the +place be where I first met her—the path 'twixt mountain and river as +you go to the cemetery."</p> + +<p>That would at least be a counter-influence to Chanukah! As they +understood none of the subtleties of love, they agreed to this, and I +made them swear by the Name.</p> + +<p>When they went their way I stood pondering on the bridge, my empty +pistol drooping in my hand, till sky and river glowed mystically as +with blood, and the chill evening airs reminded me that November was +nigh.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>VII</h4> + +<p>I got to Warsaw and back in the time at my disposal, but not all the +freshness and variety of my experiences could banish the thought of +Bethulah. There were days when I could absorb myself in the passing +panorama, but I felt always, so to speak, in the ante-chamber of the +great moment of our third and decisive meeting.</p> + +<p>And with every shortening day of December that moment approached. Yet +I all but missed it when it came. A snowfall I might easily have +foreseen retarded my journey at the eleventh hour, but my faithful +mare ploughed her way through the white morasses. As she munched her +mid-day corn in that quaint Christian village that neighboured +Zloczszol, and in which I had agreed to stable her, it was borne in on +me for the first time that the eve of Chanukah was likewise Christmas +eve. I wondered vaguely if there was any occult significance in the +coincidence or in the <i>Chassidic</i> choice of dates; but it was too late +now to protest, and loading my pistol against foul play, I hurried to +the rendezvous.</p> + +<p>On the dark barren base of the mountain, patches of snow gleamed like +winter blossoms; the gargoyle-like faces of the jags of rock on the +river-bank were white-bearded with icicles. Down below the stream +raced, apparently as turbid as ever, but suddenly, as it made a sharp +curve and came under a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>thick screen of snow-laden boughs interarching +over the cleft, it grew glazed in death.</p> + +<p>The sight of Bethulah was as of a spirit of sunshine moving across the +white desolation. Her tall lone shadow fell blue upon the snowy path. +She was swathed now in splendid silver furs, from which her face shone +out like a tropical flower beneath its wreathed crown.</p> + +<p>Dignity and sovereignty had subtly replaced the grace of her movement, +her very stature seemed aggrandized by the consciousness of her unique +mission.</p> + +<p>She turned, and her virginal eyes met mine with abashing purity, and +in that instant of anguished rapture I knew that my quest was vain. +The delicate flush of joy and surprise touched her cheeks, indeed, as +before, but this time I felt it would not be succeeded by terror. +Self-conscious now, self-poised, she stood regally where she had +faltered and fled.</p> + +<p>"You return to spend Chanukah with us," she said.</p> + +<p>"I came," I said, with uneasy bravado, "in the hope of spending it +elsewhere—with you."</p> + +<p>"But you know that cannot be," she said gently.</p> + +<p>Ah, now she knew of what she was queen. But revolt was hot in my +heart.</p> + +<p>"Then they have made you share their dream," I said bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, with unruffled sweetness. "How beautiful upon the +mountains are the feet of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>those that bring good tidings!" And her +eyes shone in exultation.</p> + +<p>"They were messengers of evil," I said—"whisperers of untruth. Life +is for love and joy."</p> + +<p>"Ah, no!" she urged tremulously. "Surely you know the world—how full +it is of suffering and sin." And as with an unconscious movement, she +threw back her splendid furs, revealing the weird shroud. "Ah, what +ecstasy to think that the divine day will come, ere I am old, when, as +it is written in the twenty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, '<i>He will destroy +in this mountain the face of the covering cast over all people, and +the vail that is spread over all nations. He will swallow up death in +victory: and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and +the rebuke of His people shall He take away from off all the earth: +for the Lord hath spoken.</i>'"</p> + +<p>Her own eyes were full of tears, which I yearned to kiss away.</p> + +<p>"But your own life meantime?" I said softly.</p> + +<p>"My life—does it not already take on the glory of God as this +mountain the coming day?"</p> + +<p>She seemed indeed akin to the cold white peak as I had seen it flushed +with sunrise. My passion seemed suddenly prosaic and selfish. I was +lifted up into the higher love that worships and abnegates.</p> + +<p>"God bless you!" I said, and turning away with misty vision, saw, +creeping off, the three dark fanatical figures.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>VIII</h4> + +<p>Half a century later I was startled to find the name of Zloczszol in a +headline of the Sunday edition of my American paper.</p> + +<p>I had married, and was even a grandfather; for after my return to +America the world of Bethulah had grown fantastic, stupidly +superstitious, and, finally, shadowy and almost unreal. Years and +years of happiness had dissipated and obliterated the delicate +fragrant dream of spiritual love.</p> + +<p>But that strange long-forgotten name stirred instantly the sleeping +past to life. I adjusted my spectacles and read the column eagerly. It +was sensational enough, though not more so than a hundred columns of +calamities in unknown places that one skips or reads with the mildest +of thrills.</p> + +<p>The long-threatened avalanche had fallen, and Nature had once more +rudely reminded man of his puny place in creation. Rare conditions had +at last come together. First a slight fall of snow, covering the +mountain—how vividly I pictured it!—then a sharp frost which had +frozen this deposit; after that a measureless, blinding snow-storm and +a cyclonic wind. When all seemed calm again, the second mass of snow +had begun to slide down the frozen surface of the first, quickening to +a terrific pace, tearing down the leafless trunks and shooting them at +the village like giant arrows of the angry gods. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>One of these arrows +penetrated the trunk of a great cedar on the plain and stuck out on +both sides, making a sort of cross, which the curious came from far +and near to see. But, alas! the avalanche had not contented itself +with such freakish manifestations; it had annihilated the new portion +of the village which had dared crawl nearer the mountain when the +railroad—a railroad in Zloczszol!—had found it cheaper to pass near +the base than to make a circuit round the congested portion!</p> + +<p>Alas! the cheapness was illusory. The dépôt with its crowd had been +wiped out as by the offended Fury of the mountain; though by another +freakish incident, illustrating the Titanic forces at work, yet the +one redeeming detail of the appalling catastrophe, a small train of +three carriages that had just moved off was lifted up bodily by the +terrible wind that raced ahead of the monstrous sliding snowball, and +was clapped down in a field out of its reach, as if by a protecting +hand. Not a creature on it was injured.</p> + +<p>I had passed the years allotted to man by the Psalmist, and my memory +of the things of yesterday had begun to be faint and elusive, but the +images of my Zloczszol adventure returned with a vividness that grew +daily more possessive. What had become of Bethulah? Was she alive? Was +she dead? And which were the sadder alternative—to have felt the +darkness of early death closing round the great hope, or to have +survived its possibility, and old, bent, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>bitter, and deserted by her +followers, to await the lesser disenchantment of the grave?</p> + +<p>An irresistible instinct impelled me—aged as I was myself—to revisit +alone these scenes of my youth, to see how fate had rounded or broken +off its grim ironic story.</p> + +<p>I pass over the stages of the journey, at the conclusion of which I +found myself again in the mountain village. Alas! The changes on the +route had prepared me for the change in Zloczszol. Railroads threw +their bridges over the gorges I had climbed, telegraph poles tamed the +erst savage forest ways. And Zloczszol itself had now, by the line +passing through it, expanded into a trading centre, with vitality +enough to recuperate quickly from the avalanche. The hotel was clean +and commodious, but I could better have endured that ancient +sitting-room in which the squalling baby was rocked. Strange, I could +see its red wrinkled face, catch the very timbre of its piping cries! +Only the mountain was unchanged, and the pines and firs that had +whispered dreams to my youth whispered sleep to my age. Ah, how frail +and futile is the life of man! He passes like a shadow, and the green +sunlit earth he trod on closes over him and takes the tread of the new +generations. What had I to say to these new, smart people in +Zloczszol? No, the dead were my gossips and neighbours. For me more +than the avalanche had desolated Zloczszol. I repaired to the +cemetery. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>There I should find Yarchi. It was no use looking for him +under the porch of the pine cottage. And there, too, I should in all +likelihood find Bethulah!</p> + +<p>But Ben David's tomb was the first I found, carved with the +intersecting triangles. The date showed he had died very soon after my +departure; perhaps, I thought remorsefully, my importunities had +agitated him too much. Ah! there at last was Yarchi. Under a high +white stone he slept as soundly as any straight corpse. His sneering +mouth had crumbled to dust, but I would have given much to hear it +once more abuse the <i>Chassidim</i>. Propped on my stick and poring over +the faded gilt letters, I recalled "the handsome stranger" whom the +years had marred. But of Bethulah I saw no sign. I wandered back and +found the turreted house, but it had been converted into a large +store, and from Bethulah's turret window hung a great advertising +sky-sign.</p> + +<p>I returned cheerlessly to the hotel, but as the sun began to pierce +auspiciously through the bleakness of early March, I was about to +sally forth again in the direction of Yarchi's ancient cottage, when +the porter directed me—as if I were a mere tourist—to go to see the +giant cedar of Lebanon with its Titanic arrow. However, I followed his +instructions, and pretty soon I espied the broad-girthed tree towering +over its field, with the foreign transpiercing trunk about fifteen +feet from the ground, making indeed a vast cross. Leaning against the +sunlit cedar was a white-robed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>figure, and as I hobbled nearer I saw +by the shroud and the crown of flowers that I had found Bethulah.</p> + +<p>At my approach she drew herself up in statuesque dignity, upright as +Ben David of yore, and looked at me with keen unclouded eyes. There +was a wondrous beauty of old age in her face and bearing. The silver +hair banded on the temples glistened picturesquely against the reds +and greens and golds of her crown.</p> + +<p>"Ah, stranger!" she said, with a gracious smile. "You return to us."</p> + +<p>"You recognize me?" I mumbled, in amaze.</p> + +<p>"It is the face I loved in youth," she said simply.</p> + +<p>Strange, happy, wistful tears sprang to my old eyes—some blurred +sense of youth and love and God.</p> + +<p>"Your youth seems with you still," I said. "Your face is as sweet, +your voice as full of music."</p> + +<p>The old ecstatic look lit up her eyes. "It is God who keeps me ever +young, till the great day dawns."</p> + +<p>I was taken aback. What! She believed still! That alternative had not +figured in my prevision of pathetic closes. I was silent, but the old +tumult of thought raged within me.</p> + +<p>"But is not the day passed forever?" I murmured at last.</p> + +<p>The light in her eyes became queenly fire.</p> + +<p>"While there is life," she cried, "in the veins of the house of Ben +David!" And as she spoke my eye <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>caught the gleam of the Persian +emerald on her forefinger.</p> + +<p>"And your worshippers—what of them?" I asked.</p> + +<p>Her eyes grew sad. "After my father's death—his memory for a +blessing!—the pilgrims fell off, and when the years passed without +the miracle, his followers even here in Zloczszol began to weaken. And +slowly a new generation arose, impatient and lax, which believed not +in the faith of their forefathers and mocked my footsteps, saying, +'Behold! the dreamer cometh!' And then the black fire-monster came, +whizzing daily to and fro on the steel lines and breathing out fumes +of unfaith, and the young men said lo! there is our true Redeemer. +Wherefore, as the years waxed and waned, until at last advancing Death +threw his silver shadow on my hair, even the faithful grew to doubt, +and they said, 'But a few short years more and death must claim her, +her mission unfulfilled, and the lamp of Israel's hope shattered +forever. Perchance it is we that have misunderstood the prophecies. +Not here, not here, shall God's great miracle be wrought; this is not +holy ground. "For the Lord dwelleth in Zion,"' they cried with the +Prophets. Only on the sacred soil, outside of which God has never +revealed himself, only in Palestine, they said, can Israel's Redeemer +be born. As it is written, 'But upon Mount Zion shall be deliverance, +and there shall be holiness.'</p> + +<p>"Then these and the scoffers persuaded me, seeing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>that I waxed very +old, and I sold my father's house—now grown of high value—to obtain +the money for the journey, and I made ready to start for Jerusalem. +There had been a whirlwind and a great snow the day before and I would +have tarried, but they said I must arrive in the Holy City ere the eve +of Chanukah. And putting off my shroud and my crown, seeing that only +in Jerusalem I might be a bride, I trusted myself to the fire-monster, +and a vast company went with me to the starting-place—both of those +who believed that salvation was of Zion and those who scoffed. But the +monster had scarcely crawled out under God's free heaven than God's +hand lifted me up and those with me—for my blessedness covered +them—and put us down very far off, while a great white thunder-bolt +fell upon the building and upon the scoffers and upon those who had +prated of Zion, and behold! they were not. The multitude of Moab was +as straw trodden down for the dunghill, and the high fort of the +fire-monster was brought down and laid low and brought to the ground, +even to the dust. Then arose a great cry from all the town and the +mountain, and a rending of garments and a weeping in sackcloth. And +many returned to the faith in me, for God's hand has shown that here, +and not elsewhere, is the miracle to be wrought. As it is written, +word for word, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Isaiah:—</p> + +<p>"'<i>And He will destroy in this mountain the face <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>of the covering cast +over all people, and the vail that is spread over all nations. He will +swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God shall wipe away tears +from off all faces: and the rebuke of His people shall He take away +from off all the earth: for the Lord hath spoken it. And it shall be +said in that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for Him, and He +will save us: this is the Lord; we have waited for Him, we will be +glad and rejoice in His salvation. For in this mountain shall the hand +of the Lord rest, and Moab shall be trodden down under Him, even as +straw is trodden down for the dunghill. And He shall spread forth His +hands in the midst of them, as he that swimmeth spreadeth forth to +swim: and He shall bring down their pride together with the spoils of +their hands. And the fortress of the high fort of thy walls shall He +bring down, lay low, and bring to the ground, even to the dust.</i>'</p> + +<p>"And here in this cedar of Lebanon, transplanted like Israel under the +shadow of this alien mountain, the Lord has shot a bolt, for a sign to +all that can read. And here I come daily to pray, and to await the +divine moment."</p> + +<p>She ceased, and her eyes turned to the now stainless heaven. And as I +gazed upon her shining face it seemed to me that the fresh flowers and +leaves of her crown, still wet with the dew, seen against that garment +of death and the silver of decaying life, were symbolic of an undying, +ever rejuvenescent hope.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>IX</h4> + +<p>A last surprise awaited me. Bethulah now lived all alone in Yarchi's +pine cottage, which the years had left untouched.</p> + +<p>Whether accident or purpose settled her there I do not know, but my +heart was overcharged with mingled emotion as I went up the garden the +next day to pay her a farewell visit. The poppies flaunted riotously +amid the neglected maize, but the cottage itself seemed tidy.</p> + +<p>It was the season when the cold wrinkled lips of winter meet the first +kiss of spring, and death is passing into resurrection. It was the +hour when the chill shadows steal upon the sunlit day. In the sky was +the shot purple of a rolling moor, merging into a glow of lovely +green.</p> + +<p>I stood under the porch where Yarchi had been wont to sun and snuff +himself, and knocked at the door, but receiving no answer, I lifted +the latch softly and looked in.</p> + +<p>Bethulah was at her little table, her head lying on a great old Bible +which her arms embraced. One long finger of departing sunlight pointed +through the window and touched the flowers on the gray hair. I stole +in with a cold fear that she was dead. But she seemed only asleep, +with that sleep of old age which is so near to death and is yet the +renewal of life.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>I was curious to see what she had been reading. It was the eighteenth +chapter of Genesis, and in the shadow of her crown ran the verses:—</p> + +<p>"<i>And the Lord said unto Abraham, Wherefore did Sarah laugh, saying, +Shalt I of a surety bear a child, which am old?</i></p> + +<p>"<i>Is anything too hard for the Lord?</i>"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>VII</h2> + +<h2>THE KEEPER OF CONSCIENCE</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<a name="VII" id="VII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>VII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>THE KEEPER OF CONSCIENCE</h3> + +<br /> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p>Salvina Brill walked to and fro in the dingy Hackney Terrace, waiting +till her mother should return with the house-key. So far as change of +scene was concerned the little pupil-teacher might as well have stood +still. Everywhere bow-windows, Venetian blinds, little front +gardens—all that had represented domestic grandeur to her after a +childhood of apartments in Spitalfields, though her subsequent glimpse +of the West End home in which her sister Kitty was governess, had made +her dazedly aware of Alps beyond Alps.</p> + +<p>Though only seventeen, Salvina was not superficially sweet and could +win no consideration from the seated males in the homeward train, and +the heat of the weather and the crush of humanity—high hats +sandwiched between workmen's tool-baskets—had made her head ache. Her +day at the Whitechapel school had already been trying, and Thursday +was always heavy with the accumulated fatigues of the week. It was +unfortunate that her mother should be late, but she remembered how at +breakfast the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>good creature had promised father to make a little +excursion to the Borough and take a packet of tea to the house of some +distant relatives of his, who were sitting <i>shivah</i> (seven days' +mourning). The non-possession of a servant made it necessary to lock +up the house and pull down the blinds, when its sole occupant went +visiting.</p> + +<p>After a few minutes of vain expectation, Salvina mechanically returned +to her Greek grammar, which opened as automatically at the irregular +verbs. She had just achieved the greatest distinction of her life, and +one not often paralleled in Board School girl-circles, by +matriculating at the London University. Hers was only a second-class +pass, but gained by private night-study, supplemented by some evening +lessons at the People's Palace, it was sufficiently remarkable; +especially when one considered she had still other subjects to prepare +for the Centres. Salvina was now audaciously aiming at the +Bachelorhood of Arts, for which the Greek verbs were far more +irregular. It was not only the love of knowledge that animated her: as +a bachelor she might become a head-mistress, nay, might even aspire to +follow the lead of her dashing elder sister and teach in a wealthy +family that treated you as one of itself. Not that Kitty had ever +matriculated, but an ugly duckling needs many plumes of learning ere +it can ruffle itself like a beautiful swan.</p> + +<p>Who should now come upon the promenading <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>student but Sugarman the +Shadchan, his hand full of papers, and his blue bandanna trailing from +his left coat-tail!</p> + +<p>"Ah, you are the very person I was coming to see," he cried gleefully +in his corrupt German accent. "What is your sister's address now?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" said Salvina distrustfully.</p> + +<p>"I have a fine young man for her!"</p> + +<p>Salvina's pallid cheek coloured with modesty and resentment. "My +sister doesn't need your services."</p> + +<p>"Maybe not," said Sugarman, unruffled. "But the young man does. He saw +your sister once years ago, before he went to the Cape. Now he is a +<i>Takif</i> (rich man) and wants a wife."</p> + +<p>"He's not rich enough to buy Kitty." Salvina's romantic soul was +outraged, and she spoke with unwonted asperity.</p> + +<p>"He is rich enough to buy Kitty all she wants. He is quite in love +with her—she can ask for anything."</p> + +<p>"Then let him go and tell her so himself. What does he come to you +for? He must be a very poor lover."</p> + +<p>"Poor! I tell you he is rolling in gold. It's the luckiest thing that +could have happened to your family. You will all ride in your +carriage. You ought to fall on your knees and bless me. Your sister is +not so young any more, at nineteen a girl can't afford to sniff. +Believe me there are thousands <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>of girls who would jump at the +chance—yes, girls with dowries, too. And your sister hasn't a penny."</p> + +<p>"My sister has a heart and a soul," retorted Salvina witheringly, "and +she wants a heart and a soul to sympathize with hers, not a +money-bag."</p> + +<p>"Then, won't you take a ticket for the lotte<i>ree</i>?" rejoined Sugarman +pleasantly. "Then you get a money-bag of your own."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you."</p> + +<p>"Not even half a ticket? Only thirty-six shillings! You needn't pay me +now. I trust you."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"But think—I may win you the great prize—a hundred thousand marks."</p> + +<p>The sum fascinated Salvina, and for an instant her imagination played +with its marvellous potentialities. They could all move to the +country, and there among the birds and the flowers she could study all +day long, and even try for a degree with Honours. Her father would be +saved from the cigar factory, her sister from exile amid strangers, +her mother should have a servant, her brother the wife he coveted. All +her Spitalfields circle had speculated through Sugarman, not without +encouraging hits. She smiled as she remembered the vendor of slippers +who had won sixty pounds and was so puffed up that when his wife +stopped in the street to speak to a shabby acquaintance, he cried +vehemently, "Betsey, Betsey, do learn to behave according to your +station."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>"You don't believe me?" said Sugarman, misapprehending her smile. "You +can read it all for yourself. A hundred thousand marks, so sure my +little Nehemiah shall see rejoicings. Look!"</p> + +<p>But Salvina waved back the thin rustling papers with their exotic +Continental flavour. "Gambling is wicked," she said.</p> + +<p>Sugarman was incensed. "Me in a wicked business! Why, I know more +Talmud than anybody in London, and can be called up the Law as +<i>Morenu</i>! You'll say marrying is wicked, next. But they are both State +Institutions. England is the only country in the world without a +lotte<i>ree</i>."</p> + +<p>Salvina wavered, but her instinct was repugnant to money that did not +accumulate itself by slow, painful economies, and her multifarious +reading had made the word "Speculation" a prism of glittering vice.</p> + +<p>"I daresay <i>you</i> think it's not wrong," she said, "and I apologize if +I hurt your feelings. But don't you see how you go about unsettling +people?"</p> + +<p>"Me! Why, I settle them! And if you'd only give me your sister's +address—"</p> + +<p>His persistency played upon Salvina's delicate conscience; made her +feel she must not refuse the poor man everything. Besides, the grand +address would choke him off.</p> + +<p>"She's at Bedford Square, with the Samuelsons."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I know. Two daughters, Lily and Mabel," and Sugarman instead of +being impressed nodded <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>his head, as if even the Samuelsons were +mortal and marriageable.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my sister is their governess and companion. But you'll only +waste your time."</p> + +<p>"You think so?" he said triumphantly. "Look at this likeness!"</p> + +<p>And he drew out the photograph of a coarse-faced middle-aged man, with +a jaunty flower in his frock-coat and a prosperous abdomen supporting +a heavily trinketed watch-chain. Underneath swaggered the signature, +"Yours truly, Moss M. Rosenstein."</p> + +<p>Salvina shuddered: "He was wise to send <i>you</i>," she said slyly.</p> + +<p>"Is it not so? Ah, and your brother, too, would have done better to +come to me instead of falling in love with a girl with a hundred +pounds. But I bear your family no grudge, you see. Perhaps it is not +too late yet. Tell Lazarus that if he should come to break with the +Jonases, there are better fish in the sea—gold fish, too. Good-bye. +We shall both dance at your sister's wedding." And he tripped off.</p> + +<p>Salvina resumed her Greek, but the grotesque aorists could not hold +her attention. She was hungry and worn out, and even when her mother +came, it would be some time before her evening meal could be prepared. +She felt she must sit down, if only on her doorsteps, but their +whiteness was inordinately marred as by many dirty boots—she wondered +whose and why—and she had to content herself with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>leaning against +the stucco balustrade. And gradually as the summer twilight faded, the +grammar dropped in her hand, and Salvina fell a-dreaming.</p> + +<p>What did she dream of, this Board School drudge, whose pasty face was +craned curiously forward on sloping shoulders? Was it of the enchanted +land of love of which Sugarman had reminded her, but over whose roses +he had tramped so grossly? Alas! Sugarman himself had never thought of +her as a client for any but the lottery section of his business. +Within, she was one glow of eager romance, of honour, of quixotic +duty, but no ray of this pierced without to give a sparkle to the eye, +a colour to the cheek. No faintest dash of coquetry betrayed the +yearning of the soul or gave grace to walk or gesture: her dress was +merely a tidy covering. Her exquisite sensibility found bodily +expression only as a clumsy shyness.</p> + +<p>Poor Salvina!</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p>At last the welcome jar and creak of the gate awoke her.</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought you knew I had to go to the Borough!" began a fretful +voice, forestalling reproach, and a buxom woman resplendent with black +satin and much jewellery came up the tiny garden-path.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter, mother—I haven't been waiting long."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>"Well, you know how difficult it is to get a 'bus in this weather—at +least if you want to sit outside, and it always makes my head ache +frightfully to go inside—I'm not strong and young like you—and such +a long way, I had to change at the Bank, and I made sure you'd get +something to eat at one of the girls', and go straight to the People's +Palace."</p> + +<p>Still muttering, Mrs. Brill produced a key, and after some fumbling +threw open the door. Both made a step within, then both stopped, +aghast.</p> + +<p>"It's the wrong house," thought Salvina confusedly, conscious of her +power of making such mistakes.</p> + +<p>"<i>Kisshuf</i> (witchcraft)!" whispered her mother, terrified into her +native idiom. The passage lay before them, entirely bare of all its +familiar colour and furniture: the framed engravings depicting the +trials of William Lord Russell, in the Old Bailey, and Earl Stafford +in Westminster Hall, the flower-pots on the hall table, the proudly +purchased hat-rack, the metal umbrella-stand, all gone! And beyond, +facing them, lay the parlour, an equally forlorn vacancy striking like +a blast of chilly wind through its wide-open door.</p> + +<p>"Thieves!" cried Mrs. Brill, reverting from the supernatural and the +Yiddish. "Murder! I'm ruined! They've stolen my house!"</p> + +<p>"Hush! Hush!" said Salvina, strung to calm by her mother's +incoherence. "Let us see first what has really happened."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>"Happened! Haven't you got eyes in your head? All the fruit of my +years of toil!" And Mrs. Brill wrung her jewelled hands. "Your father +would have me call on those Sperlings, though I told him they'd be +glad to dance on my tomb. And why didn't Lazarus stay at home?"</p> + +<p>"You know he has to be out looking for work."</p> + +<p>"And my gilt clock that I trembled even to wind up, and the big vase +with the picture on it, and my antimacassars, and my beautiful couch +that nobody had ever sat upon! Oh my God, oh my God!"</p> + +<p>Leaving her mother moaning out a complete inventory in the passage, +Salvina advanced into the violated parlour. It was an aching void. On +the bare mantelpiece, just where the gilt clock had announced a +perpetual half-past two, gleamed an unstamped letter. She took it up +wonderingly. It was in her father's schoolboyish hand, addressed to +her mother. She opened it, as usual, for Mrs. Brill did not even know +the alphabet, and refused steadily to make its acquaintance, to the +ironic humiliation of the Board School teacher.</p> + +<div class="block"><p>"You would not let me give you <i>Get</i>," [ran the letter +abruptly], "so you have only yourself to blame. I have left the +clothes in the bed-rooms, but what is mine is mine. Good-bye.</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Michael Brill.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—Don't try to find me at the factory. I have left."</p></div> + +<p>Salvina steadied herself against the mantelpiece till the room should +have finished reeling round. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span><i>Get!</i> Her father had wanted to put away +her mother! Divorce, departure, devastation—what strange things were +these, come to wreck a prosperity so slowly built up!</p> + +<p>"Quick, Salvina, there goes a policeman!" came her mother's cry.</p> + +<p>The room stood still suddenly. "Hush, hush, mother," Salvina said +imperiously. "There's no thief!" She ran back into the passage, the +letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>A fierce flame of intelligence leapt into the woman's face. "Ah, it's +your father!" she cried. "I knew it, I knew he'd go after that painted +widow, just because she has a little money, a black curse on her +bones. Oh! oh! God in heaven! To bring such shame on me, for the sake +of a saucy-nosed slut whose sister sold ironmongery in Petticoat +Lane—a low lot, one and all, and not fit to wipe my shoes on, even +when she was respectable, and this is what you call a father, Salvina! +Oh my God, my God!"</p> + +<p>Salvina was by this time dazed, yet she had a gleam of consciousness +left with which to register this culminating destruction of all her +social landmarks. What! That monstrous wickedness of marquises and +epauletted officers which hovered vaguely in the shadow-land of novels +and plays had tumbled with a bang into real life; had fallen not even +into its natural gilded atmosphere, but through the amulet-guarded +doors of a respectable Jewish <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>family in the heart of a Hackney +Terrace, amid the horsehair couches and deal tables of homely reality. +Nay—more sordid than the romantic wickedness of shadowland—it had +even removed those couches and tables! And oddly blent with this +tossing chaos of new thought in Salvina's romantic brain surged up +another thought, no less new and startling. Her father and mother had +once loved each other! They, too, had dawned upon each other, fairy +prince and fairy princess; had laid in each other's hand that warm +touch of trust and readiness to live and die for each other. It was +very wonderful, and she almost forgot their hostile relationship in a +rapid back-glance upon the years in which they had lived in mutual +love before her unsuspecting eyes. Their prosaic bickering selves were +transfigured: her vivid imagination threw off the damage of the years, +saw her coarse, red-cheeked father and her too plump mother as the +idyllic figures on the lamented parlour vase. And when her thought +struggled painfully back to the actual moment, it was with a new +concrete sense of its tragic intensity.</p> + +<p>"O mother, mother!" she cried, as she threw her arms round her. The +Greek grammar and the letter fell unregarded to the floor.</p> + +<p>The fountain of Mrs. Brill's wrongs leapt higher at the sympathy. "And +I could have had half-a-dozen young men! The boils of Egypt be upon +him! Time after time I said, 'No,' though the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>Shadchan bewitched my +parents into believing that Michael was an angel without wings."</p> + +<p>"But you also thought father an angel," Salvina pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and now he <i>has</i> got wings," said Mrs. Brill savagely.</p> + +<p>Salvina's tears began to ooze out. Poor swain and shepherdess on the +parlour vase! Was this, then, how idylls ended? "Perhaps he'll come +back," she murmured.</p> + +<p>The wife snorted viciously. "And my furniture? The beautiful furniture +I toiled and scraped for, that he always grumbled at, though I saved +it out of the housekeeping money, without its costing <i>him</i> a penny, +and no man in London had better meals,—hot meat every day and fish +for Sabbath, even when plaice were eightpence a pound,—and no +servant—every scrap of work done with my own two hands! Now he carts +everything away as if it were his."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is by law," Salvina said mildly.</p> + +<p>"Law! I'll have the law on him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, mother!" and Salvina shuddered. "Besides, he has left our +clothes."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brill's eye lit up. "I see no clothes."</p> + +<p>"In our rooms. The letter says so."</p> + +<p>"And you still believe what he says?" She began to mount the stairs. +"I am sure he packed in my Paisley shawl while he was about it. It is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>fortunate I wore all my jewellery. And you always say I put on too +much!"</p> + +<p>Sustained by this unanswerable vindication of her past policy, Mrs. +Brill ascended the stairs without further wailing.</p> + +<p>Salvina, whose sense of romance never exalted her above the practical, +remembered now that her brother Lazarus might come back at any moment +clamorously hungry. This pinned her to the concrete moment. How to get +him some supper! And her mother, too, must be faint and tired. She ran +into the kitchen, and found enough odds and ends left to make a meal, +and even a cracked teapot and a few coarse cups not worth carrying +away; and, with a sense of Robinson Crusoe adventure, she extracted +light, heat, and cheerfulness from the obedient gas branch, which took +on the air of a case of precious goods not washed away in the +household wreck. When her mother at last came down, cataloguing the +wardrobe salvage in picturesque Yiddish, Salvina stopped her curses +with hot tea. They both drank, leaning against the kitchen-dresser, +which served for a table for the cups.</p> + +<p>Salvina's Crusoe excitement increased when her mother asked her where +they were to sleep, seeing that even the beds had been spirited away.</p> + +<p>"I have five shillings in my purse; I'll go out and buy a cheap +mattress. But then there's Lazarus! Oh dear!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>"Lazarus has his own bed. Yes, yes, thank God, we'll be able to borrow +his wedding furniture."</p> + +<p>"But it's all stored away in the Jonas's attic."</p> + +<p>A smart rat-tat at the door denoted the inopportune return of Lazarus +himself. Salvina darted upstairs to let him in and break the shock. He +was a slimmer and more elegant edition of his father, a year older +than Kitty, and taller than Salvina by a jaunty head and shoulders.</p> + +<p>"And why isn't the hall lamp alight?" he queried, as her white face +showed itself in the dusky door-slit. "It looks so beastly shabby. The +only light's in the kitchen; I daresay you and the mater are pigging +there again. Why can't you live up to your position?"</p> + +<p>The unexpected reproach broke her down. "We have no position any +more," she sobbed out. And all the long years of paralyzing economies +swept back to her memory, all the painful progress—accelerated by her +growing salary—from the Hounsditch apartments to the bow-windows and +gas-chandeliers of Hackney!</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? What is the matter? Speak, you little fool! Don't +cry." He came across the threshold and shook her roughly.</p> + +<p>"Father's run away with the furniture and some woman," she explained +chokingly.</p> + +<p>"The devil!" The smart cane slipped from his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>fingers and he +maintained his cigar in his mouth with difficulty. "Do you mean to say +the old man has gone and—the beastly brute! The selfish hypocrite! +But how could he get the furniture?"</p> + +<p>"He made mother go on a visit to the Borough."</p> + +<p>"The old fox! That's your religious chaps. I'll go and give 'em both +brimstone. Where are they?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know where—but you must not—it is all too horrible. There's +nothing even to sleep on. We thought of borrowing your furniture!"</p> + +<p>"What! And give the whole thing away to the Jonases—and lose Rhoda, +perhaps. Good heavens, Sally. Don't be so beastly selfish. Think of +the disgrace, if we can't cover it up."</p> + +<p>"The disgrace is for father, not for you."</p> + +<p>"Don't be an idiot. Old Jonas looked down on us enough already, and if +it hadn't been for Kitty's calling on him in the Samuelsons' carriage, +he might never have consented to the engagement."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" said Salvina, melted afresh by this new aspect. "My poor +Lazarus!" and she gazed dolefully at the handsome youth who had +divided with Kitty the good looks of the family. "But still," she +added consolingly, "you couldn't have married for a long time, +anyhow."</p> + +<p>"I don't know so much. I had a very promising interview this afternoon +with the manager of Granders Brothers, the big sponge-people."</p> + +<p>"But you don't understand travelling in sponge."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>"Pooh! Travelling's travelling. There's nothing to understand. +Whatever the article is, you just tell lies about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lazarus!"</p> + +<p>"Don't make eyes—you ain't pretty enough. What do you know of the +world, you who live mewed up in a Board School? I daresay you believe +all the rot you have to tell the little girls."</p> + +<p>Her brother's shot made a wound he had not intended. Salvina was at +last reminded of her own relation to the sordid tragedy, of what the +other teachers would think, ay, even the little girls, so sharp in all +that did not concern school-learning. Would her pupils have any +inkling of the cloud on teacher's home? Ah, her brother was right. +This disgrace besplashed them all, and she saw herself confusedly as a +tainted figure holding forth on honour and duty to rows of white +pinafores.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p>Meantime, her mother had toiled up—her jewels glittering curiously in +the dusk—and now poured herself out to the fresh auditor in a +breathless wail; recapitulated her long years of devotion and the +abstracted contents of the house. But Lazarus soon wearied of the +inventory of her virtues and furniture.</p> + +<p>"What's the use of crying over spilt milk?" he said. "You must get a +new jug."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>"A new jug! And what about the basin and the coffee-pot and the +saucepans and the plates! And my new blue dish with the +willow-pattern. Oh, my God!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be so stupid."</p> + +<p>"She's a little dazed, Lazarus, dear. Have patience with her. Lazarus +says it's no use crying and letting the neighbours hear you: we must +make the best of a bad job, and cover it up."</p> + +<p>"You'll soon cover me up. I won't need my clothes then—only a clean +shroud. After twenty years—he wipes his mouth and he goes away! Tear +the rent in your garments, children mine, your mother is dead."</p> + +<p>"How can any one have patience with her?" cried Lazarus. "One would +think it was such a treat for her to live with father. Judging by the +rows you've had, mother, you ought to be thankful to be rid of him."</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> thankful," she retorted hysterically. "Who said I wasn't? A +grumbling, grunting pig, who grudged me my horsehair couch because he +couldn't sit on it. Well, let him squat on it now with his lady. I +don't care. All my enemies will pity me, will they? If they only knew +how glad I was!" and she broke into more sobs.</p> + +<p>"Come, mother; come downstairs, Lazarus: don't let us stay up in the +dark."</p> + +<p>"Not me," said Lazarus. "I'm not going down <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>to hear this all over +again. Besides, where am I to sit or to sleep? I must go to an hotel." +He struck a match to relight his cigar and it flared weirdly upon the +tear-smudged female faces. "Got any money, Salvina," he said more +gently.</p> + +<p>"Only five shillings."</p> + +<p>"Well, I daresay I can manage on that. Good-night, mother, don't take +on so, it'll be all the same a hundred years hence." He opened the +door; then paused with his hand on the knob, and said awkwardly: "I +suppose you'll manage to find something to sleep on just for +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," said Salvina reassuringly; "we'll manage. Don't worry, +dear."</p> + +<p>"I'll be in the first thing in the morning. We'll have a council of +war. Good-night. It <i>is</i> a beastly mean trick," and he went out +meditatively.</p> + +<p>When he was gone, Salvina remembered that the five shillings were for +the mattress. But she further bethought herself that the sum would +scarcely have sufficed even for a straw mattress, and that the little +gold ring Kitty had given her when she matriculated would fetch more. +Her mother's jewellery must be left sacred; the poor creature was +smarting enough from the sense of loss. Bidding her sit on the stairs +till she returned, she hastened into Mare Street, the great Hackney +highway, christened "The Devil's Mile" by the Salvation Army. Early +experience had familiarized her with the process of pawning, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>but now +she slipped furtively into the first pawn-shop and did not stay to +make a good bargain. She spent on a telegram to the central +post-office sixpence of the proceeds, so that she might be able to +draw out without delay the few pounds she had laid by for her summer +holiday. While she was purchasing the mattress at the garishly +illuminated furniture store, the words "Hire System" caught her eye, +and seemed a providential solution of the position. She broached +negotiations for the furnishing of a bed-room and a kitchen, minus +carpet and oilcloth (for these would not fit the cheaper apartments +into which they would now have to revert), but she found there were +tedious formalities to be gone through, and that her own signature +would be invalid, as she was legally a child. However, she was able to +secure the porterage of the mattress at once, and, followed by a +bending Atlas, she hurried back to her mother—who sat on her stair, +moaning—and diverted her from her griefs by teaching her to sign her +name, in view of the legal exigencies of the morrow. It was a curious +wind-up to her day's teaching. Poor Mrs. Brill's obstinate objection +to education had to give way at last under such unexpected conditions, +but she insisted on the shortest possible spelling, and so the uncouth +"Esther Brills" pencilled at the top of the sheet were exchanged for +more flowing "E. Brills" lower down. Even then, the good woman took +the thing as a pictorial flourish, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>or a section of a map, and +disdained acquaintance with the constituent letters, so that her +progress in learning remained only nominal.</p> + +<p>Then the "infant" at law put her mother to bed and lay down beside her +on the mattress, both in their clothes for lack of blankets. The +mother soon dozed off, but the "child" lay turning from side to side. +The pressure of her little tasks had dulled the edge of emotion, but +now, in the silence of the night, the whole tragic position came back +with all its sordid romanticism, its pathetic meanness; and when at +last she slept, its obsession lay heavy upon her dreams, and she sat +at her examination desk in the London University, striving horridly to +recall the irregularities of Greek verbs, and to set them down with a +pen that could never dip up any ink, while the inexorable hands of the +clock went round, and her father, in the coveted Bachelor's gown, +waited to spirit away her desk and seat as soon as the hour should +strike.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p>The next morning Salvina should have awakened with a sense through all +her bones that it was Friday—the last day of the school-week, +harbinger of such blessed rest that the mere expectation of it was +also a rest. Alas! she woke from the nightmare of sleep to the +nightmare of reality, and the week-end meant only time to sound the +horror of the new situation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>In one point alone, Friday remained a consolation. Only one day to +face her fellow-teachers and her children, and then two days for +hiding from the world with her pain, for preparing to face it again; +to say nothing of the leisure for practical recuperation of the home.</p> + +<p>Lazarus turned up so late that the council of war was of the briefest +and held almost on the door-step, for Salvina must be in school by +nine. The thought of staying away—even in this crisis—simply did not +occur to her.</p> + +<p>She arranged that Lazarus was to meet her in the city after morning +school, when she would have drawn her savings from the post-office: +more than enough for the advance on the furniture, which must be +delivered that very afternoon. Lazarus had been for telegraphing at +once to Kitty for assistance, but Salvina put her foot down.</p> + +<p>"Let us not frighten her—I will go and break it to her on Sunday +afternoon. You know she can't spare any money; it is as much as she +can do to dress up to the position."</p> + +<p>"I do hope the scandal won't spread," said Lazarus gloomily. "It would +be a nice thing if she lost the position and fell back on our hands."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has ruined all my children," sobbed Mrs. Brill, breaking out +afresh. "But what did he care? Ah, if it wasn't for me, you would have +been in the workhouse long ago."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>"Well then, go and do your Sabbath marketing or else we'll have to go +there now," said Lazarus not unkindly; "the tradespeople will give you +credit."</p> + +<p>"Rather! They know <i>I</i> never ran away."</p> + +<p>"And mind, mother," said Salvina as she snatched up her Greek grammar, +"mind the fried fish is as good as usual; we're a long way from the +workhouse yet! And if you're not in to-night, Lazarus," she whispered +as she ran off, "I'll never forgive you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" said Lazarus, looking after the awkward little +figure, flying to catch the 8.21.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I've no frying pan!" Mrs. Brill called after her.</p> + +<p>"You'll have it by this afternoon," Salvina called back reassuringly.</p> + +<p>The sun was already strong, the train packed, and Salvina stood so +jammed in that she could scarcely hold her grammar open, and the +irregular verbs danced before her eyes even more than their strange +moods and tenses warranted. At the school her thrilling consciousness +of her domestic tragedy interposed some strange veil between her and +her fellow-teachers, and they seemed to stand away from her, enveloped +in another atmosphere. She heard herself teaching—five elevens are +fifty-five—and her own self seemed to stand away from her, too. She +noted without protest two of the girls pulling each other's hair in +some far-off hazy world, and the answering drone of the class—five +elevens are <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>fifty-five—seemed like the peaceful buzzing of a +gigantic blue-bottle on a drowsy afternoon. It occurred to her +suddenly that she was fifty-five years old, and when Miss Rolver, the +Christian head-mistress, came into her room, Salvina had an unexpected +feeling of advantage in life-experience over this desiccated specimen +of femininity, redolent of time-tables, record-parchments, foolscap, +and clean blotting-paper. Outside all this scheduled world pulsed a +large irregular life of flesh and blood; all the primitive verbs in +every language were irregular, it suddenly flashed upon her, and she +had an instant of vivifying insight into the Greek language she had +unquestioningly accepted as "dead"; saw Grecian men and women +breathing their thoughts and passions—even expressing the shape of +their throats and lips—through these erratic aorists.</p> + +<p>"You look tired, dear," said the head-mistress.</p> + +<p>"It's the heat," Salvina murmured.</p> + +<p>"Never mind; the summer holidays will soon be here."</p> + +<p>It sounded a mockery. Summer holidays would no longer mean Ramsgate, +and delicious days of study on sunny cliffs, with the relaxation of +novels and poems. These slowly achieved luxuries of the last two years +were impossible for this year at least. And this thought of being +penned up in London during the dog days oppressed her: she felt +choking. Her next sensation was of water sprinkling on her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>face, and +of Miss Rolver's kind anxious voice asking her if she felt better. +Instead of replying, Salvina wondered in a clouded way where the +school-managers were.</p> + +<p>Even her naïve mind had been struck at last by the coincidence that +whenever, after a managers' meeting, these omnipotent ladies and +gentlemen from a higher world strolled through the school, Miss Rolver +happened to be discovered in an interesting attitude. If it was the +play-hour, she would be—for this occasion only—in the playground +leading the games, surrounded by clamorously affectionate little ones. +If it was working-time, she was found as a human island amid a sea of +sewing: billows of pinafores and aprons heaved tumultuously around +her. Or, with a large air of angelic motherhood, she would be tying up +some child's bruised finger. Her greatest invention—so it had +appeared to the scrupulous Salvina—was the stray, starved, +half-frozen, sweet little kitten, lapping up milk from a saucer before +a ruddy blazing fire at the very instant of the great personages' +passage. How they had beamed, one and all, at the touching sight.</p> + +<p>Hence it was that Salvina's dazed vision now sought vaguely for the +school-managers. But in another instant she realized that this present +solicitude was not for another but for herself, and that it had +nothing of the theatrical. A remorseful pang of conscience added to +her pains. She said tremulously <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>that she felt better and was gently +chided for over-study and admonished to go home and rest.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I am all right now," she responded instinctively.</p> + +<p>"But I'll take your class," Miss Rolver insisted, and Salvina found +herself wandering outside in the free sunshine, with a sense of the +forbidden. An acute consciousness of Board School classes droning +dutifully all over London made the streets at that hour strange and +almost sinful. She went to the post-office and drew out as much of her +money as red tape allowed, and while wandering about in Whitechapel +waiting for the hour of her rendezvous with Lazarus, she had time to +purchase a coarse but white table-cloth, a plush cover embroidered +with "Jerusalem" in Hebrew, and a gilt goblet. These were for the +Friday-night table.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p>But the Sabbath brought no peace. Though miracles were wrought in that +afternoon, and, except that it was laid in the kitchen, the Sabbath +table had all its immemorial air, with the consecration cup, the long +plaited loaves under the "Jerusalem" cover, and the dish of fried +fish that had grown to seem no less religious; yet there could be no +glossing over the absence of the gross-paunched paternal figure that +had so unctuously presided over the ceremony. His <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>vacant place held +all the emptiness of death, and all the fulness of retrospective +profanation. How like he was to Moss M. Rosenstein, Salvina thought +suddenly. Lazarus had ignored the gilt goblet and the shilling bottle +of claret, and was helping himself from the coffee-pot, when his +mother cried bitterly: "What! are we to eat like the animals?"</p> + +<p>"Oh bother!" Lazarus exclaimed. "You know I hate all these mummeries. +I wouldn't say if they really made people good. But you see for +yourself—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you must say <i>Kiddush</i>, Lazarus," said Salvina, half +pleadingly, half peremptorily. She fetched the prayer-book and +Lazarus, grumbling inarticulately, took the head of the table, and +stumbled through the prayer, thanking God for having chosen and +sanctified Israel above all nations, and in love and favour given it +the holy Sabbath as an inheritance.</p> + +<p>But oh! how tamely the words sounded, how void of that melodious +devotion thrilling through the joyous roulades of the father. It was a +sort of symbol of the mutilated home, and thus Salvina felt it. And +she remembered the last ceremony at which her father had +presided—that of the Separation when the Sabbath faded into +work-day—the ceremony of Division between the Holy and the Profane, +and she shivered to think it had indeed marked for the unhappy man the +line of demarcation.</p> + +<p>"Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, who hallowest <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>the Sabbath," +Lazarus was mumbling, and in another instant he was awkwardly +distributing the ritual morsels of bread.</p> + +<p>But the mother could not swallow hers, for indignant imaginings of the +rival Sabbath board. "May <i>her</i> morsel choke her!" she cried, and +nearly was choked by her own.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, do not mention her—neither her nor him.—<i>Never any +more</i>," said Salvina. And again the new note of peremptoriness rang in +her voice, and her mother stopped suddenly short like a scolded child.</p> + +<p>"Will you have plaice or sole, mother?" Salvina went on, her voice +changing to a caress.</p> + +<p>"I can't eat, Salvina. Don't ask me."</p> + +<p>"But you must eat." And Salvina calmly helped her to fish and to +coffee and put in the lumps of sugar; and the mother ate and drank +with equal calm, as if hypnotized.</p> + +<p>All through the meal Salvina's mind kept swinging betwixt the past and +the future. Strange odds and ends of scenes came up in which her +father figured, and her old and new conceptions of him interplayed +bewilderingly. Her sudden vision of him as Moss M. Rosenstein +persisted, and could only be laid by concentrating her thoughts on the +early days when he used to take herself and Kitty to Victoria Park, +carrying her in his arms when she was tired. But it made her cry to +see that little tired happy figure <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>cuddling the trusted giant, and +she had to jump for refuge into the future.</p> + +<p>They must move back to Hounsditch. She must give up the idea of +becoming a "Bachelor": the hours of evening study must now be devoted +to teaching others. Her University distinction was already great +enough to give her an unusual chance of pupils, while her "Yiddish," +sucked in with her mother's milk, had become exceptionally good German +under study. She might hope for as much as two shillings an hour and +thus earn a whole sovereign extra per week.</p> + +<p>And over this poor helpless blighted mother, she would watch as over a +child. All the maternal instinct in her awoke under the stress of this +curiously inverted position. Her remorseful memory summoned a +penitential procession of bygone petulances. Never again would she be +cross or hasty with this ill-starred heroine. Yes, her mother was +become a figure of romance to her, as well as a nursling. This woman, +whose prosaic humours she had so often fretted under, was in truth a +woman who had lived and loved. She had ceased to be a mere mother; a +large being who presided over one's childhood. And this imaginative +insight, she noted with surprise, would never have been hers but for +her father's desertion: like one who realizes the virtues of a corpse, +she had waited till love was slain to perceive its fragrance.</p> + +<p>A postman's knock, as the meal was finished, made <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>her heart give a +corresponding pit-a-pat, and she turned quite faint. All her nerves +seemed to be on the rack, expecting new sensational developments. The +letter was for Lazarus.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you abomination!" cried his mother, as he tore open the envelope. +He did not pause to defend his Sabbath breaking, but cried joyfully: +"What did I tell you? Granders Brothers offer me travelling expenses +and a commission!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank God, thank God!" ejaculated his mother, her eyes raised +piously. He took up his hat. "Where are you going?" said Mrs. Brill.</p> + +<p>"To see Rhoda of course. Don't you think she's as anxious about it as +you?"</p> + +<p>Salvina's eyes were full of sympathetic tears: "Yes, yes, let him go, +mother."</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p>On the Sunday afternoon, feeling much better for the Saturday rest, +and scrupulously gloved, shod, and robed in deference to the grandeur +of her destination, Salvina boarded an omnibus, and after a tedious +journey, involving a walk at the end, she arrived at the West End +square in which her sister bloomed as governess and companion in a +newly enriched Jewish family. She stood an instant in the porch to +compose herself for the tragic task before her and felt in her pocket +to be sure she had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>not lost the little bottle of smelling-salts with +which she had considerately armed herself, in anticipation of a +failure of Kitty's nerves. Then she knocked timidly at the door, which +was opened by a speckless boy in buttons, who also opened up to her +imagination endless vistas of aristocratic association. His impressive +formality, as of the priest of a shrine, seemed untinged by any +remembrance that on her one previous visit she had been made free of +the holy of holies. But perhaps it was not the same boy. He was indeed +less a boy to her than a row of buttons, and less a row of buttons +than a symbol of all the elegances and opulences in which Kitty moved +as to the manner born; the elaborate ritual of the toilette, the +sacramental shaving of poodles, the mysterious panoramic dinners in +which one had to be constantly aware of the appropriate fork.</p> + +<p>Salvina had not waited a minute in the imposing hall, ere a radiant +belle flew down the stairs—with a vivacity that troubled the +sacro-sanct atmosphere—and caught Salvina in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you dear Sally! I am <i>so</i> glad to see you," and a fusillade of +kisses accompanied the hug. "Whatever brings you here? Oh, and such a +dowdy frock! You needn't flush up so, silly little child; nobody +expects you to know how to dress like us ignoramuses, and it doesn't +matter to-day, there's no one to see you, for they're all out driving, +and I'm lying down with a headache."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>"Poor Kitty. But then you ought to be out driving." She was divided +between sympathy for the sufferer, and admiration of the finished, +fine ladyhood implied in indifference to the chance of a +carriage-drive.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I've so many letters to write, and they don't really drive +on Sundays, just stop at house after house, and not good houses +either. It is such a bore. They've never shaken off the society they +had before they made their money."</p> + +<p>"Well, but that's rather nice of them."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, but not nice for me. But come upstairs and you shall have +some tea."</p> + +<p>Salvina mounted the broad staircase with a reverence attuned to her +own hushed footfalls, but her task of breaking the news to her sister +weighed the heavier upon her for all this subdued magnificence. It +seemed almost profane to bring the squalid episodes of Hackney into +this atmosphere, appropriate indeed to the sinful romances of +marquises and epauletted officers, but wholly out of accord with +surreptitious furniture vans. What a blow to poor Kitty the news would +be! She dallied weakly, till the tea was brought by a powdered +footman. Then she had an ingenious idea for a little shock to lead up +to a greater. She would say they were going to move. But as she took +off her white glove not to sully it with the tea and cake, Kitty +cried: "Why what have you done with my ring?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>Here was an excellent natural opening, but Salvina was taken too much +aback to avail herself of it, especially as the artificial opening +preoccupied her mind. "Oh, your ring's all right," she said hastily; +"I came to tell you we are going to move."</p> + +<p>Kitty clapped her hands. "Ah! so you've taken my advice at last! I'm +so glad. It wasn't nice for me to stay with you at that dingy hole, +even for a day or two a year. Mustn't mother be pleased!"</p> + +<p>Salvina bit her lip. Her task was now heavier than ever.</p> + +<p>"No, mother isn't pleased. She is crying about it."</p> + +<p>"Crying? Disgusting. How she still hankers after Spitalfields and the +Lane!"</p> + +<p>"She isn't crying for that, but because father won't go with us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have no patience with father. He hasn't a soul above red +herrings and potatoes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes he has. He has left us."</p> + +<p>"What! Left you?" Kitty's pretty eyes opened wide. "Because he won't +move to a better house!"</p> + +<p>"No, we are moving to a worse house because he has moved to a better."</p> + +<p>"What <i>are</i> you talking about? Is it a joke? A riddle? I give it up."</p> + +<p>"Father—can't you guess, Kitty?—father has gone away. There is some +other woman."</p> + +<p>"No?" gasped Kitty. "Ha! ha! ha! ha!" <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>and she shook with long peals +of silvery laughter. "Well, of all the funny things! Ha! ha! ha!"</p> + +<p>"Funny!" and Salvina looked at her sternly.</p> + +<p>"What, don't you see the humour of it? Father turning into the hero of +a novelette. Romance and red herrings! Passion and potatoes! Ha! ha! +ha!"</p> + +<p>"If you had seen the havoc it wrought, you wouldn't have had the heart +to laugh."</p> + +<p>"Oh well, mother was crying. That I understand. But that's nothing new +for her. She'd cry just as much if he were there. The average rainfall +is—how many inches?"</p> + +<p>Salvina's face was stern and white. "A mother's tears are sacred," she +said in low but firm protest.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me, Sally, I always forget you have no sense of humour. +Well, what are you going to do about it?" and her own sense of humour +continued to twitch and dimple the corners of her pretty mouth.</p> + +<p>"I told you. We cannot afford to keep up the house—we must go back to +apartments in Spitalfields."</p> + +<p>Instantly Kitty's face grew as serious as Salvina's. "Oh, nonsense!" +she said instinctively. The thought of her family returning to the +discarded shell of apartments was humiliating; her own personality +seemed being dragged back.</p> + +<p>"We can't pay the rent. We must give a quarter's notice at once."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>"Absurd! You'll only save a few shillings a week. Why can't you let +apartments yourselves? At least you would preserve a decent +appearance."</p> + +<p>"Is it worth while having the responsibility of the rent? There's only +mother and I—we shan't need a house."</p> + +<p>"But there's Lazarus!"</p> + +<p>"He'll have a place of his own. He'll marry before our notice +expires."</p> + +<p>"That same Jonas girl?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Ridiculous. Small tradespeople, and dreadfully common, all the lot. I +thought he'd got over his passion for that bold black creature who's +been seen licking ice-cream out of a street-glass. To connect us with +that family! Men are so selfish. But I still don't see why you can't +remain as you are—let your drawing-room, say, furnished."</p> + +<p>"But it isn't furnished."</p> + +<p>"Not furnished. Why, I've sat on the couch myself."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Salvina, a faint smile tempering her deadly gravity. "You +are the only person who has ever done that. But there's no couch now. +Father smuggled all the furniture away in a van."</p> + +<p>Again Kitty's silver laughter rang out unquenchably.</p> + +<p>"And you don't call that funny! Eloped with the chairs! I call it +killing."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>"Yes, for mother," said Salvina.</p> + +<p>"Pooh! She'll outlive all of us. I wish you were as sure of getting +the furniture back. She's not a bad mother, as mothers go, but you +take her too seriously."</p> + +<p>"But, Kitty, consider the disgrace!"</p> + +<p>"The disgrace of having a wicked parent! I've endured for years the +disgrace of having a poor one—and that's worse. My people—the +Samuelsons, I mean—will never even hear of the pater's +escapade—gossip keeps strictly to its station. And even if they do, +they know already my family's under a cloud, and they have learned to +accept me for myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am glad you don't mind," said Salvina, half-relieved, +half-shocked.</p> + +<p>"I mind, if it makes you uncomfortable, you dear, silly Sally."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't worry about me. I think I'll go back to mother, now."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, why, we haven't begun to talk yet. Have another cup of tea. +No? How's old Miss What's-a-name, your head-mistress? Any more frozen +little kittens?"</p> + +<p>"She's very kind, really. I'm sorry I told you about the kitten. She +let me go home early on Friday."</p> + +<p>"Why? To track the van?"</p> + +<p>"No; I wasn't very well."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>"Poor Sally!" and Kitty hugged her again. "I daresay you were more +upset than mother."</p> + +<p>Tears came into Salvina's eyes at her sister's affectionateness. "Oh, +no; but please don't talk about it any more. Father is dead to us +now."</p> + +<p>"Then we must speak well of him."</p> + +<p>Salvina shuddered. "He is a wicked, heartless man, and mother and I +never wish to see his face again."</p> + +<p>A cloud darkened Kitty's blonde brow.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but she isn't going to marry another man, I hope."</p> + +<p>"How can she?" said Salvina. "I wouldn't let her make any public +scandal."</p> + +<p>"But aren't there funny laws in our religion—<i>Get</i> and things like +that—which dispense with the English courts."</p> + +<p>"I believe there are—I read about something of the kind in a +novel—oh, yes! and father did offer mother <i>Get</i> before he went off, +so I suppose he considers his conscience clear."</p> + +<p>"Well, I rely upon you, Sally, to see that she doesn't marry or +complicate things more. We don't want two wicked parents."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. But I am sure she doesn't dream of any new +complications. You don't do her justice, Kitty. She's just +broken-hearted; a perpetual widow, with worse than her husband's death +to lament."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>"Yes—her lost furniture."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Kitty, do realize what it means."</p> + +<p>"I do, my dear. I do realize it—it's too killing. Passion in a +Pantechnicon or Elopements economically conducted. By the day or hour. +Oh, dear, oh, dear! But do promise me, Salvina, that you won't go back +to Spitalfields."</p> + +<p>"I must be somewhere near the school, dearest. It will save +train-fares."</p> + +<p>Kitty pouted. "Well, you know I couldn't drive up to see you any more; +Hackney was all but outside the radius—the radius of respectability. +I couldn't ask coachman to go to Spitalfields—unless I pretended to +be slumming."</p> + +<p>"Well, pretend."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Salvina! I thought you were so conscientious. No, I'll have to +come in a cab. You're quite sure you won't have some more tea? Oh, do, +I insist. One piece of sugar?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank you, dear. By the way, has Sugarman the Shadchan been +here?"</p> + +<p>"You mean—has he gone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, poor Kitty! It was my fault. I let him know your address. I do +hope the horrid man hasn't worried you."</p> + +<p>"Sugarman?"</p> + +<p>"No—Moss M. Rosenstein."</p> + +<p>"How pat you have his name! But why do you call him horrid?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>Salvina stared. "But have you seen his photograph?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can't go by photographs. He has been here."</p> + +<p>"What! Sugarman had the impudence to bring him!"</p> + +<p>Kitty flushed slightly. "No, he called alone—this afternoon, just +before you."</p> + +<p>"What impertinence! A brazen commercial courtship! You wouldn't +receive him, of course."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I thought it would be fun just to look at him," said Kitty +uneasily. "A commercial courtship, as you express it, is not +unamusing."</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything amusing in it—it's an outrage."</p> + +<p>"I told you you had no sense of humour. I find it comic to be loved +before first sight by a man who has no <i>h</i>'s, but only <i>l</i>'s, <i>s</i>'s, +and <i>d</i>'s."</p> + +<p>"Sugarman says he did see you before loving you—noticed you before he +went to the Cape. But you must have been a little girl then."</p> + +<p>"He didn't tell me that—that would have been even more romantic. He +only said he fell in love with my photograph, as paraded by Sugarman."</p> + +<p>"Why, where should Sugarman get—"</p> + +<p>"You never know what mother's been up to," interrupted Kitty dryly.</p> + +<p>"Much more likely father."</p> + +<p>"What's the odds? Do have another piece of cake."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>"No, thank you. But what did you say to the man?"</p> + +<p>"The same as you. Don't stare so, you stupid dear. I said, No, thank +you."</p> + +<p>"That I knew. Of course you couldn't possibly marry a bloated creature +from the Cape. I meant, in what terms did you put him in his place?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, really," said Kitty, laughing, but without her recent merriment. +"This is too prejudiced. I can't admit that mere residence in the Cape +is a disqualification."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it is. Why do they go there? Only to make money. A person +whose one idea in life is money can't be a nice person."</p> + +<p>"But money isn't his one idea—now his one idea is matrimony. That is +a joke. You ought to laugh."</p> + +<p>"It makes me cry to think that some nice girl may be driven into +marrying him just for his money."</p> + +<p>"Poor man! So because of his money he is to be prevented from having a +nice wife."</p> + +<p>Salvina was taken aback by this obverse view.</p> + +<p>"How is he ever to improve?" asked Kitty, pursuing her advantage.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's true," Salvina admitted. "The best thing would be if some +nice girl could <i>fall in love</i> with him. But that doesn't make his +methods less insulting. I wish all these Shadchans could be +slaughtered off."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>"What a savage little chit! They often make as good marriages as are +made in heaven."</p> + +<p>"Don't tease. You know you think as I do."</p> + +<p>Salvina took an affectionate leave of her sister, and walked down the +soft staircase, confused but cheerful. The boy in buttons let her out. +To do so he hurriedly put down the infant of the house who was riding +on his shoulders. Such a touch of humanity in a row of buttons gave +Salvina a new insight and a suspicion that even the powdered footman +who brought the tea might have an emotion behind his gorgeous +waistcoat. But the crowds fighting for the omnibuses that fine Sunday +afternoon depressed her again. All the seats outside were packed, and +it was only after standing a long time on the pavement that she +squeezed her way into an inside seat. The stuffiness and jolting made +her feel sick and dizzy. By a happy accident her fingers encountered +the bottle of smelling-salts in her pocket, and, as she pulled it out +eagerly, she remembered it had been intended for Kitty.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p>Lazarus remained out late that evening, and, as he had forgotten to +borrow the key, Salvina was sitting up for him.</p> + +<p>She utilized the time in preparing her sewing. She was making a +night-dress with dozens and dozens <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>of tiny tucks at the breast, all +run by hand, and she was putting into the fine calico an artistic +needlework absolutely futile, and with its perpetual "count two, miss +two,"—infinitely trying to the eyes, especially by gas-light. The +insane competition of the teachers, refining upon a Code in itself +stupidly exacting, made the needlework the most distressing of all the +tasks of the girl-teachers of that day. Salvina herself, with her +morbid conscientiousness and desire to excel, underwent nightmares +from the vexatiousness of learning how to cut holes so that they could +not possibly be darned, and then darning them. When, at the +head-centre, the lady demonstrator, armed with a Brobdingnagian +whalebone needle, threaded with a bright red cord, executed +herringboned fantasias on a canvas frame resembling a violin stand, it +all looked easy enough. But when Salvina herself had to unravel a +little piece of stockinette with a real needle and then fill in the +hole so as to leave no trace of the crime, she was reduced to +hysteria. Even the coloured threads with which she worked were a scant +relief to the eye. And all this elaborate fancywork was entirely +useless. At home Salvina was always at work, darning and mending; +never was there a defter needle. Even the "hedge-tear-down" was neatly +and expeditiously repaired, so long as she avoided the scholastic +methods. "What's all this madness?" her mother had asked once, when +she had tried the orthodox "Swiss darning" on a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>real article. And +Mrs. Brill surveyed in amazement the back of the darn, which looked +like Turkish towelling.</p> + +<p>To-night Salvina could not long continue her taxing work. Her eyes +ached, and she at last resolved to rise early in the morning and +proceed with the night-dress then. She turned the gas low, so as to +reduce the bill, and it was as if she had turned down her own spirits, +for a strange melancholy now took possession of her in the silent +fuscous kitchen in the denuded house, and the emptiness of the other +rooms seemed to strike a chill upon her senses. There were strange +creaks and ghostly noises from all parts. She fixed her thought on the +one furnished bed-room now occupied by her mother, as on a symbol of +life and recuperation. But the uncanny noises went on; rustlings, and +patterings, and Salvina felt that she might shriek and frighten her +mother. She had almost resolved to turn up the gas, when the sound of +a harmonium came muffled through the wall, and the softened voices of +her Christian neighbours sang a Sunday hymn. Salvina ceased to be +alone; and tears bathed her cheeks, as the crude melody lilted on. She +felt absorbed in some great light and love, which was somehow both a +present possession and a beckoning future that awaited her soul, and +it was all mysteriously mixed with the blue skies of Victoria Park, in +those far-off happy days when she had gone home on her father's +shoulder; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>and with the blue skies of those enchanted sunlit lands of +art and beauty, in which she would wander in the glorious future, when +she should be making a hundred and fifty a year. Paris, Venice, +Athens, Madrid—how the mellifluous syllables thrilled her! One by +one, in her annual summer holiday, she and her mother might see them +all. Meantime she saw them all in her imagination, bathed in the light +that never was on sea or land, and it was not her mother with whom she +journeyed but a noble young Bayard, handsome and tender-hearted, who +had imperceptibly slipped into her mother's place. Poor Salvina, with +all her modesty, never saw herself as others saw her, never lost the +dream of a romantic love. Lazarus's rat-tat recalled her to reality.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm late," he said, with apologetic defiance, "but it's no +pleasure to sit in an empty house. <i>You</i> may like it, but your tastes +were always peculiar, and that straw mattress on the floor isn't +inviting."</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry, dear. But then mother <i>must</i> have the bed."</p> + +<p>"Well, it won't last long, thank Heaven. I made the Jonases consent to +the marriage before the scandal gets to them."</p> + +<p>"So soon!" said Salvina with unconscious social satire.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and we'll have our honeymoon travelling for Granders Brothers. +She's a good sort, is Rhoda, she doesn't mind gypsying. And that saves +us from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>the expense of completing the furniture." He paused, and +added awkwardly, "I'd lend it to you, only that might give us away."</p> + +<p>"But we don't need the furniture, dear, and don't you think they +<i>ought</i> to know—it is the rest of the world that it <i>doesn't</i> +concern."</p> + +<p>"They are bound to know after the marriage. We've kept it dark so far, +thanks to being in Hackney away from our old acquaintances and to +mother's stinginess in not having encouraged new people to drop in. +I've told the Jonases father was ill and might have to go away for his +health. That'll pave the way to his absence from the wedding. It +sounds quite grand. We'll send him to a German Spa."</p> + +<p>Salvina did not share her brother's respect for old Jonas, who bored +her with trite quotations from English literature or the Hebrew Bible. +He was in sooth a pompous ignoramus, acutely conscious of being an +intellectual light in an ignorant society; a green shade he wore over +his left eye added to his air of dignified distinction. Foreign Jews +in especial were his scorn, and he seriously imagined that his own +stereotyped phrases uttered with a good English pronunciation gave his +conversation an immeasurable superiority over the most original +thinking tainted by a German or Yiddish accent. Salvina's timid +corrections of his English quotations made him angry and imperilled +Lazarus's wooing. The young man was indeed the only member of the +family who cultivated <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>relations with the Jonases, though now it would +be necessary to exchange perfunctory visits. Lazarus presided over +these visits in fear and trembling, glossing over any slips as to the +father, who was gone to the seaside for his health. On second +thoughts, Lazarus had not ventured on a German Spa.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p>Ere the wedding-day arrived, Salvina had to go to the seaside. +Clacton-on-Sea was the somewhat plebeian place and the school-fête the +occasion. Salvina looked forward to it without much personal pleasure, +because of the responsibilities involved, but it was a break in the +pupil-teacher's monotonous round of teaching at the school and being +taught at the Centres; and in the actual expedition the children's joy +was contagious and made Salvina shed secret tears of sympathy. Arrived +at the beach of the stony, treeless, popular watering-place, most of +the happy little girls were instantly paddling in the surf with yells +of delight, while the tamer sort dug sand-pits and erected castles. +Salvina, whose office on this occasion was to assist an "assistant +teacher," had to keep her eye on a particular contingent. She sat down +on the noisy sunlit sands with her back to the sea-wall so as to sweep +the field of vision. Her nervous conscientiousness made her count her +sheep at frequent intervals, and be worried over missing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>now this +one, now that one. How her heart beat furiously and then almost +stopped, when she saw a child wading out too far. No, decidedly it was +a trying form of pleasure for the teacher. One bright little girl who +had never beheld the sea before picked up a wonderfully smooth white +pebble, and bringing it to Salvina asked if it was worth any money. +Salvina held it up, extemporizing an object lesson for the benefit of +the little bystanders.</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "this is not worth any money, because you can get +plenty of them without trouble, and even beautiful things are not +considered valuable if anybody can have them. This stone was polished +without charge by the action of the waves washing against it for +millions and millions of years, and if it—"</p> + +<p>The sudden blare of a brass band on the other side of the sea-wall +made her turn her head, and there, in a brand-new room of a brand-new +house on the glaring Promenade, a room radiating blatant prosperity +from its stony balcony, she perceived her father, in holiday attire, +and by his side a woman, buxom and yellow-haired. A hot wave of blood +seemed to flood Salvina up to the eyes. So there he was luxuriating in +the sun, rich and careless. All her homely instincts of work and duty +rose in burning contempt. And poor Mrs. Brill had to remain cooped at +home, drudging and wailing. For a second she felt she would like to +throw the stone at him, but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>her next feeling was pain lest the sight +of her should painfully embarrass him; and turning her face swiftly +seawards she went on, with scarce a pause perceptible to the little +girls, "If it gets worn away some more millions of years, it will be +ground down to sand, like all the other stones that were once here," +and as she spoke, she began to realize her own words, and a tragic +sense of her own insignificance in this eternal wash of space and time +seemed to reduce her to a grain of sand, and blow her about the great +spaces. But the mood passed away before a fresh upwelling of concrete +resentment against the self-pampered pair at the Promenade window. +Nevertheless, her feeling of how their seeming satisfaction would be +upset at the sight of her, made her carefully minimize the +contingency, and the dread of it hovered over the day, adding to the +worries over the children. But she vowed that her mother should be +revenged; she, too, poor wronged one, should wallow in Promenade +luxury in her future holidays; no more should she be housed in back +streets without sea-views.</p> + +<p>At night, after Mrs. Brill was in bed, Salvina could not resist saying +to Lazarus, whose supper she had been keeping hot for him: "How +strange! Father <i>is</i> at the seaside."</p> + +<p>"The dickens!" He paused, fork in hand. "You saw him at +Clacton-on-Sea?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but don't tell mother. So we didn't tell a lie after all. I'm so +glad."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>"Oh, go to blazes, you and your conscience. Where was he staying?"</p> + +<p>"In a house in the very centre of the Promenade; it's simply +shocking!"</p> + +<p>"Make me some fresh mustard, and don't moralize. Did you have a good +time?"</p> + +<p>"Not very; a little cripple-girl in my class went paddling, and +joking, and dropped her crutch, and it floated away—"</p> + +<p>"Bother your little cripple-girls. They always seem to be in your +class!"</p> + +<p>"Because my class is on the ground floor."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! ha! Just your luck. By the way," he became grave, "look what +a beastly letter from Kitty! Not coming to the wedding. I call it +awfully selfish of her."</p> + +<p>Kitty wrote her deep regrets, but her people had suddenly determined +to go abroad and she could not lose this chance of seeing the world; +"the governess's honeymoon," she christened it. Paris, Switzerland, +Rome,—all the magic places were to be hers,—and Salvina, reading the +letter, gasped with sympathy and longing.</p> + +<p>But the happy traveller was represented at the wedding by a large +bronze-looking knight on horseback, which towered in shining green +over the insignificant gifts of the Jonas's circle; the utilitarian +salad-bowls, and fish-slices, and dessert sets. One other present +stood out luridly, but only to Salvina. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>It was a glossy arm-chair, +and on the seat lay a card: "From Rhoda's loving father-in-law." When +Salvina first saw this—at a family card-party, the Sunday evening +before the wedding—she started and flushed so furiously that Lazarus +had to give her a warning nudge, and to whisper: "Only for +appearance." At the supper-table old Jonas, who carved and jested with +much appreciation of his own skill in both departments, referred +facetiously to the absent father, who might, nevertheless, be said to +be "in the chair" on that occasion.</p> + +<p>Salvina dressed her mother as carefully for the ceremony as though +Kitty's fears were being realized and Mrs. Brill was the bride of the +occasion; and so debonair a figure emerged from the ordeal that you +could recognize Kitty's mother instead of Salvina's. Lazarus had spent +his farewell evening of bachelorhood at an hotel, justly complaining +that a mirrorless bed-room with a straw mattress was no place for a +bridegroom to issue from. Never had bridegroom been so ill-treated, he +grumbled; and he shook his fist imaginatively at the father who had +despoiled him.</p> + +<p>But he joined his mother and sister in the cab; and as it approached +the synagogue, he said suddenly: "Don't be shocked—but I rather +expect father will be at the <i>Shool</i> (synagogue)."</p> + +<p>"What!" and Mrs. Brill appeared like to faint.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't have the cheek," Salvina said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>reassuringly, as she +pulled out the smelling-salts which Kitty had not needed.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't have the cheek <i>not</i> to come," said Lazarus. "I asked +him."</p> + +<p>"You!" They glared at him in horror.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I wasn't going to have things look funny—I hate explanations. +The Jonases thought there was something queer the other night, when +you both bungled the explanation of the rheumatism, spite all my +coaching."</p> + +<p>"But where did you find him?" said the mother excitedly.</p> + +<p>"At Clacton-on-Sea."</p> + +<p>Salvina bit her lip.</p> + +<p>"I sent in my card,—'Laurence Beryl, of Granders Brothers.' When he +saw me, I thought he would have had a fit. I told him if he didn't +come up to the wedding and play heavy father, I'd summons him—"</p> + +<p>"Summons him!" echoed Mrs. Brill.</p> + +<p>"For stealing my old arm-chair. I remembered—ha! ha! ha!—it was I +that had bought the easy-chair for myself, when we lived in +Spitalfields and had only wooden chairs."</p> + +<p>"So he <i>did</i> send that easy-chair!" said Salvina.</p> + +<p>"Yes; that was rather clever of him. And don't you think it's clever +of me to save appearances?"</p> + +<p>"It'll be terrible for mother!" said Salvina hotly. "Didn't you think +of that?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>"She won't have to talk to him. He'll only hang round. Nobody will +notice."</p> + +<p>"It would have been better to tell the truth," cried Salvina, "or even +a lie. This is only acting a lie. And it must be as painful for him as +for us."</p> + +<p>"Serve him right—the old furniture-sneak!"</p> + +<p>"It was a mistake," Salvina persisted.</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, Salvina!" said Mrs. Brill. "Don't disturb your brother's +festival."</p> + +<p>"He has disturbed it himself," said Salvina, bursting into tears. "I +wish, mother, we had not come."</p> + +<p>"Here, here! This is a pretty wedding," said Lazarus.</p> + +<p>"Hush, Salvina, hush!" said Mrs. Brill. "What does it matter to us if +a dog creeps into synagogue?"</p> + +<p>At this point the cab stopped.</p> + +<p>"We're not there!" cried Mrs. Brill.</p> + +<p>"No," Lazarus explained; "but we pick up father here. We must appear +to arrive together."</p> + +<p>Ere the horrified pair could protest, he opened the door, sprang out, +and pushed inside a stout, rubicund man with a festal rose in his +holiday coat, but a miserable, shamefaced look in his eyes. Lazarus +took his seat ere a word could be spoken. The cab rolled on.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Esther," he muttered. "I offered you <i>Get</i>."</p> + +<p>"Silence!" cried Salvina, as if she had been <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>talking to the little +girls. "How dare you speak to her?" She held her mother's hand and +felt the pulse beating madly.</p> + +<p>"You old serpent—" began Mrs. Brill hotly.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" pleaded Salvina; "not a word; he doesn't deserve it."</p> + +<p>"In Jerusalem I could have two wives," he muttered. But no one +replied.</p> + +<p>The four human beings sat in painful silence, their knees touching. +The culprit shot uneasy, surreptitious glances at his wife, so radiant +in jewels and finery and with so Kitty-like a complexion. It was as if +he saw her freshly, or as if he were shocked—even startled—by her +retaining so much joy of life despite his desertion of her. +Fortunately the strange drive only lasted a few minutes. The +bridegroom's wedding-party passed into the synagogue through an avenue +of sympathetic observers.</p> + +<p>Mr. Brill had no part to play in the ceremony. The honours were +carried off by Mr. Jonas, who stalked in slowly, with the bride on his +arm, and a new green shade over his left eye. The rival father hovered +meekly on the outskirts of the marriage-canopy amid a crowd of +Jonases. Salvina stationed herself and her mother on the opposite +border of the canopy, and throughout bristled, apprehensive, +prohibitive, fiery, like a spaniel guarding its mistress against a +bull-dog on the pounce. The bull-dog indeed was docile enough; +avoiding the spaniel's eye, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>and trailing a spiritless tail. But the +creature revived at the great wedding-feast in the hall of a hundred +covers, and under the congratulations and the convivial influences +tended to forget he was in disgrace. The bridegroom's parents were +placed together, but Salvina changed seats with her mother, and became +a buffer between the twain, a non-conducting medium through which the +father could not communicate with the mother. With the latter she +herself maintained a continuous conversation, and Mr. Brill soon found +it more pleasant to forget his troubles in the charms of Mrs. Jonas, +his other neighbour.</p> + +<p>After the almond-pudding, a succession of speakers ranging from +relatives to old friends, and even the officiating minister, gave +certificates of character to the bride and the bridegroom, amid the +tears of the ladies. Father Jonas made an elaborate speech beginning, +"Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking," and interlarded with Hebrew +quotations. Father Brill expressed the pleasure it gave him to +acknowledge on behalf of himself and his dear wife, the kind things +which had been said, and the delight they felt in seeing their son +settled in the paths of domestic happiness, especially in connection +with a scion of the house of Jonas, of whose virtues much had been +said so deservedly that night. Lazarus declared, amid roars of +laughter, that on this occasion only he would respond for his dear +wife, but he felt sure that for the rest of their lives she would have +the last word. Then <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>the tables were cleared away and dancing began, +which grew livelier as the dawn grew nearer. But long before that, +Salvina had borne her mother away from the hovering bull-dog. Not, +however, without a terrible scene in the homeward cab. All the +volcanic flames Salvina and etiquette had suppressed during the day +shot forth luridly. Burning lava was hurled against her husband, +against her son, against Salvina. An impassioned inventory of the lost +furniture followed, and the refrain of the whole was that she had been +taken to a wedding, when all she wanted was a funeral.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p>Salvina did not count this break-down against her mother. It was the +natural revolt of nerves tried beyond endurance by Lazarus's trick. +The whole episode intensified her sense of the romantic situation of +her mother, and of the noble courage and dignity with which she +confronted it. She wondered whether she herself would have emerged so +stanchly from the ordeal of meeting a loved but faithless one, and her +protective pity was tempered by a new admiration. Her admiration +increased, when, as the secret gradually leaked out, her mother +maintained an attitude of defiance against the world's sympathy, +refused to hear stigmatizations of her husband, even from old Jonas, +reserving the privilege of denunciation for her own mouth and +Salvina's ear.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>And now began the new life of mother and daughter. With Kitty on the +Continent, Lazarus married, and the father blotted out, they had only +each other. They moved back to the skirts of the Ghetto, and Mrs. +Brill resumed with secret joy her old place among her old cronies. +Inwardly, she had fretted at the loss of them, for which the dignity +of Hackney had been but a shadowy compensation. But to Salvina she +only expressed her outraged pride, the humiliation of it all, and the +poor girl, unconscious of how happy her mother really was among the +Ghetto gossips, tortured her brain during school-hours with the +thought of her mother's lonely misery. And even if Salvina had not +been compelled to give private lessons in the evenings to supplement +their income, she would in any case have relinquished her Bachelorhood +aspirations in order to give her time to her mother. For Mrs. Brill +had no resources within herself, so far as Salvina knew. Even the +great artificial universe of books and newspapers was closed to her. +Salvina resolved to overcome her obstinate reluctance to learn to +read, as soon as the pressure of the other private lessons relaxed. +Meantime, she lived for her mother and her mother on her.</p> + +<p>Oh, the bitterness of those private lessons after the fag of the day; +the toiling to distant places on tired feet; the grinding bargains +imposed by the well-to-do!</p> + +<p>One of these fiends was a beautiful lady, haughty, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>with fair +complexion and frosted hair, and somehow suggested to Salvina a steel +engraving. She arranged graciously that Salvina should teach her +little girl conversational German at half-a-crown an hour, but when +Salvina started on the first lesson in the luxurious sanctum, she +found two sweetly dressed sisters; who, she was informed, could not +bear to be separated, and might therefore be considered one. The steel +engraving herself sat there, as if to superintend, occasionally asking +for the elucidation of a point. At the second lesson there were two +other little girls, neighbours, the lady informed her, who had thought +it would be a good opportunity for them to learn, too. Salvina +expressed her pleasure and her gratitude to her patroness. At the +third lesson the aunt of the two little girls was also present with a +suspicious air of discipleship. When at end of the month, Salvina +presented her bill at five shillings an hour, the patroness flew into +a towering rage. What did it matter to her how many children partook +of the hour? An hour was an hour and a bargain a bargain. Salvina had +not the courage or the capital to resist. And this life of ever +teaching and never learning went on, week after week, year after year. +For when her salary at the school increased, the additional burden of +Lazarus and his wife and children fell upon her. For her feckless +brother had soon exhausted the patience of Granders Brothers; he had +passed shiftlessly from employment to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>employment, frequently +dependent on Salvina and his father-in-law till old Jonas had +declared, with all the dignity of his green shade, that his +son-in-law—graceless offspring of a graceless sire—must never darken +his door-step again.</p> + +<p>But the joy Mrs. Brill found in her grandchildren, the filling-out of +her life, repaid Salvina amply for all the pinching necessary to +subsidize her brother's household. She winced, though, to see her +mother drop thoughtlessly into the glossy arm-chair presented by her +absentee husband, and therein ensconced dandle Lazarus's children. +Salvina was too sensitive to remind her mother, and shrank also from +appearing fantastic. But that chair inspired a morbid repugnance, and +one day, taking advantage of the fact that the stuffing began to +extrude, she bought Lazarus a new and better easy-chair without saying +why, and had the satisfaction of noting the relegation of the old one +to a bed-room.</p> + +<p>Two bright spots of colour dappled those long, monotonous years. One +was Kitty; the other was the summer holiday. Kitty's mere letters from +the Continent—she wrote twice during the tour—were a source of +exhilaration as well as of instruction. She brought nearer all those +wonderful places which Salvina still promised herself to behold one +day, though year after year she went steadily to Ramsgate. For her +mother shrank from sea-voyages and strange places, as much as she +loved the familiar <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>beach swarming with Jewish faces and nigger +minstrels. Even Salvina's little scheme of enthroning her mother +expensively on the parade at Clacton-on-Sea, that mother unconsciously +thwarted, though she endured equivalent splendour at Ramsgate at three +guineas a week, with much grumbling over her daughter's extravagance.</p> + +<p>Once indeed when Salvina had seriously projected Paris in the interest +of her French, there had been a quarrel on the subject. There were +many quarrels on many subjects, but it was always one quarrel and had +always the same groundwork of dialogue on Mrs. Brill's part, whatever +the temporal variations.</p> + +<p>"A nice daughter! To trample under foot her own flesh and blood, +because she thinks I'm dependent on her! Well, well, do your own +marketing, you little ignoramus who don't know a skirt steak from a +loin chop; you'll soon see if I don't earn my keep. I earned my living +before you were born, and I can do so still. I'd rather live in one +room than have my blood shed a day longer. I'll send for Kitty—she +never stamps on the little mother. She shan't slave her heart out any +more among strangers, my poor fatherless Kitty. No, we'll live +together, Kitty and I. Lazarus would jump at us—my own dear, handsome +Lazarus. I never see him but he tells me how the children are crying +day and night for their granny, and why don't I go and live with him? +<i>He</i> wouldn't spit upon the mother who suckled him, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>and even Rhoda +has more respect for me than my own real daughter."</p> + +<p>Such was the basal theme; the particular variation, when the holiday +was concerned, took the shape of religious remonstrance. "And where am +I to get <i>kosher</i> food in Paris? In Ramsgate I enjoy myself; there's a +<i>kosher</i> butcher, and all the people I know. It's as good as London."</p> + +<p>Tears always conquered Salvina. She had an infinite patience with her +mother on these occasions, not resenting the basal theme, but +regarding it as a mere mechanic explosion of nervous irritation, +generated by her lonely life. Sometimes she forgot this and argued, +but was always the more sorry afterward. Not that she did not enjoy +Ramsgate. Her nature that craved for so much and was content with so +little found even Ramsgate a Paradise after a year of the slum-school, +to which she always returned looking almost healthy. But this constant +absorption in her mother's personality narrowed her almost to the same +mental bookless horizon. All the red blood of ambition was sucked away +as by a vampire; her energy was sapped and the unchanging rut of +school-existence combined to fray away her individuality. She never +went into any society; the rare invitation to a social event was +always refused with heart-shrinking. Every year made her more shy and +ungainly, more bent in on herself, and on the little round of school +and home life, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>which left her indeed too weary in brain and body for +aught beside. She sank into the scholastic old maid, unconsciously +taking on the very gait and accent of Miss Rolver, into the +limitations of whose life she had once had a flash of insight. Yet she +was unaware of her decay; her automatic brain was still alive in one +corner, where the dreams hived and nested. Paris and Rome and the +wonder-places still shone on the horizon, together with the noble +young Bayard, handsome and tender-hearted. And twice or thrice a year +Kitty would flash upon the scene to remind her that there was truly a +world of elegance and adventure. Her mother had begun to worry over +the beautiful Kitty's failure to marry; she had imagined that in those +gilded regions she would have snapped up a South African millionaire +or other ingenuous person. How nearly Kitty had actually come to doing +so, even without the spring-board of Bedford Square, Salvina never +told her. She had kept both Sugarman and Moss M. Rosenstein from +pestering her mother, by telling the Shadchan that Kitty's voice and +Kitty's alone weighed with Kitty in such a matter. When the swarthy +capitalist returned to the Cape, despairing, Salvina had written to +congratulate her sister on her high-mindedness. In the years that +followed, she had to endure many a bad quarter of an hour of maternal +reproach because Kitty did not marry, but Mrs. Brill's vengeance was +unconscious. Kitty herself never heard a word <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>of these complaints; to +her the mother was all wreathed smiles, for she never came without +bringing a trinket, and every one of these trinkets meant days of +happiness. The little lockets and brooches were shown about to all the +neighbours and hitched them on to the bright spheres which Kitty +adorned. Carriages and footmen, soft carpets and gilded mirrors +gleamed in the air. "My Kitty!" rolled under Mrs. Brill's tongue like +a honeyed sweet. Kitty's little gifts, flashing splendidly on the +everyday dulness, made more impression than all the steady monotonous +services of Salvina. For the rest, Salvina conscientiously repaid +these gifts in kind on Kitty's birthdays and other high days.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>X</h4> + +<p>When Salvina was twenty-three years old a change came. Lazarus ceased +to demand assistance: he was cheery and self-confident, and inclined +to chaff Salvina on her prim ways. He removed to a larger house and +her easy-chair disappeared before a more elegant. And the apparent +brightness of her brother's prospects brightened Salvina's. Her +savings increased, and, under the continuous profit of his +self-support, she was soon able to meditate changes on her own +account. Either she would give up her night-teaching—which had been +more and more undermining her system—or she would <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>procure her mother +and Kitty a delightful surprise by migrating back to Hackney.</p> + +<p>Her mind hesitated between the joyous alternatives, lingering +voluptuously now on one, now on the other, but somehow aware that it +would ultimately choose the latter, for Kitty on her rare visits never +failed to grumble at the lowness of the neighbourhood and the expense +of cabs, and Mrs. Brill still yearned to see horses pawing outside her +door-step. But an unexpected visit from Kitty, not six weeks after her +last, and equally unexpected in place—for it was at Salvina's +school—decided the matter suddenly.</p> + +<p>It was about half-past twelve, and Salvina, long since a full +"assistant teacher," was seated at her desk, correcting the German +exercises of a private pupil. Sparsely dotted about the symmetric +benches were a few demure criminals undergoing the punishment of being +kept in, and the air was still heavy with the breaths and odours of +the blissful departed. A severe museum-case, with neatly ticketed +specimens, backed Salvina's chair, and around the spacious room hung +coloured diagrams of animals and plants. Kitty seemed a specimen from +another world as her coquettish Leghorn hat flowering with poppies +burst upon the scholastic scene.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, I thought you'd be alone," she said pettishly.</p> + +<p>"Is it anything important? The children don't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>matter," said Salvina. +"You can tell me in German. I do hope nothing is the matter."</p> + +<p>"No, nothing so alarming as that," Kitty replied in German. "But I +thought I'd find you alone and have a chat."</p> + +<p>"I had to stay here with the children. They must be punished."</p> + +<p>"Seems more like punishing yourself. But have you lunched, then?"</p> + +<p>"No." Salvina flushed slightly.</p> + +<p>"No? What's up? A Jewish fast! Ninth day of Ab, fall of Temple, and +funny things like that. One always seems to stumble upon them in the +East End."</p> + +<p>"How you do rattle on, Kitty!" and Salvina smiled. "No, I shall lunch +as soon as these children are released."</p> + +<p>"But why wait for that?"</p> + +<p>Salvina's blush deepened. "Well, one doesn't want to eat a good dinner +before hungry girls."</p> + +<p>"A good dinner! Why, what in heaven's name do you get? Truffles and +plovers' eggs?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I get a very good meal sent in from the Cooking Centre +opposite, and compared with what these girls get at home, steak and +potatoes are the luxuries of Lucullus."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't believe it. They all look fatter than you. Then this is +double punishment for you—extra work and hunger. Do send them away. +They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>get on my nerves. And have your lunch like a sensible being." +And without waiting for Salvina's assent: "Go along, girls," she said +airily.</p> + +<p>The girls hesitated and looked at Salvina, who coloured afresh, but +said, "Yes, this lady pleads for you, and I said that if you all +promised to—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, teacher," they interrupted enthusiastically, and were off.</p> + +<p>"Well, what I came to tell you, Sally, is that I'm not sure of my +place much longer."</p> + +<p>Salvina turned pale, and that much-tried heart of hers thumped like a +hammer. She waited in silence for the facts.</p> + +<p>"Lily is going to be married."</p> + +<p>"Well? All the more reason for Mabel to have a companion."</p> + +<p>Kitty shook her head. "It's the beginning of the end. Marriage is a +contagious complaint in a family. First one member is taken off, then +another. But that's not the worst."</p> + +<p>"No?" Poor Salvina held her breath.</p> + +<p>"Who do you think is the happy man? You'll never guess."</p> + +<p>"How should I? I don't know their circle."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do. I mean, you know him."</p> + +<p>Salvina wrinkled her forehead vainly.</p> + +<p>"No, you'll never guess after all these years! Moss M. Rosenstein!"</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" Salvina gasped. "Lily Samuelson!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>"Yes—Lily Samuelson!"</p> + +<p>"But he must be an old man by now."</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>she</i> isn't a chicken. And you thought it was such an outrage +of him to ask for <i>me</i>. I suppose having once got inside the door to +see me, he had the idea of aspiring higher."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't say higher, Kitty. Richer, that's all—and now, I should +say, lower, inasmuch as Lily Samuelson stoops to pick up what you +passed by with scorn. And picks him up out of Sugarman's hand, +probably."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's all very well, and it's revenge enough in a way to think to +myself what I do think to myself, when I see the young couple going +on, and Moss is mortally scared of me, as I shoot him a glare, now and +again. I shouldn't be surprised if he eggs them on to get rid of me. +It would be too bad to be done out of everything."</p> + +<p>"Well, we must hope for the best," said Salvina, kissing her. "After +all, you can always get another place."</p> + +<p>"I'm getting old," Kitty said glumly.</p> + +<p>"You old!" and the anæmic little school-mistress looked with laughing +admiration at her sister's untarnished radiance. But when Kitty went, +and lunch came, Salvina could not eat it.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>XI</h4> + +<p>It was clear, however, that of the alternatives—giving up the +night-work or returning to Hackney—the latter was the one favoured by +Providence. Kitty might at any moment return to the parental roof, and +there must be something, that Kitty would consider a roof, to shelter +her.</p> + +<p>On Saturday Salvina went house-hunting alone in Hackney, and there—as +if further pointed out by Providence—stood their old house "To let!" +It had a dilapidated air, as if it had stood empty for many moons and +had lost hope. It seemed to her symbolic of her mother's fortunes, and +her imagination leapt at the idea of recuperating both. Very soon she +had re-rented the house, though from another landlord, and the workmen +were in possession, making everything bright and beautiful. Salvina +chose wall-papers of the exact pattern of aforetime, and ordered the +painting and decorations to repeat the old effects. They were to move +in, a few days before the quarter.</p> + +<p>Her happy secret shone in her cheeks, and she felt all bright and +refreshed, as if she, too, were being painted and cleaned and +redecorated. The task of keeping it all from her mother was a great +daily strain, and the secret had to overbrim for the edification of +Lazarus. Lazarus hailed the change with expressions of unselfish joy, +that brought tears into <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>Salvina's eyes. He even went with her to see +how the repairs were getting on, chatted with the workmen, disapproved +of the landlord's stinginess in not putting down new drain pipes, and +made a special call upon that gentleman.</p> + +<p>One day on her return from school Salvina found a postcard to the +effect that the house was ready for occupation. Salvina was for once +glad that she had never yet found time to persuade her mother to learn +to read. She went to feast her eyes on the new-old house and came home +with the key, which she hid carefully till the Sunday afternoon, when +she induced her mother to make an excursion to Victoria Park. The +weather was dull, and the old woman needed a deal of coaxing, +especially as the coaxing must be so subtle as not to arouse +suspicion.</p> + +<p>On the way back in the evening from the Park, which, as there was an +unexpected band playing popular airs, her mother enjoyed, Salvina led +her by the old familiar highways and byways back to the old home, +keeping her engrossed in conversation lest it should suddenly befall +her to ask why they were going that way. The expedient was even more +successful than she had bargained for, Mrs. Brill's sub-consciousness +calmly accepting all the old unchanged streets and sights and sounds, +while her central consciousness was absorbed by the talk. Her legs +trod automatically the dingy Hackney Terrace to which she had so often +returned from her Park <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>outing, her hand pushed open mechanically the +old garden-gate, and as Salvina, breathlessly wondering if the spell +could be kept up till the very last, opened the door with the +latch-key, her mother sank wearily, and with a sigh of satisfaction, +upon the accustomed hall-chair. In that instant of maternal apathy, +the astonishment was wholly Salvina's. That hall-chair on which her +mother sat was the very one which had stood there in the bygone happy +years; the hat-rack was the one with which her father had "eloped"; on +it stood the little flower-pots and on the wall hung the two +engravings of the trials of Lord William Russell and Earl Stafford +exactly in the same place, and facing her stood the open parlour with +all the old furniture and colour. In that uncanny instant Salvina +wondered if she had passed through years of hallucination. There was +her mother, natural and unconcerned, bonneted and jewelled, exactly as +she had come from Camberwell years ago when they had entered the house +together. Perhaps they were still at that moment; she knew from her +studies as well as from experience that you can dream years of +harassing and multiplex experience in a single second. Perhaps there +had been no waking hallucination; perhaps the long waiting for her +mother to appear with the house-key had made her sleepy, and in that +instant of doze she had dreamed all those horrible things—the empty +house, her father's flight, his reappearance at her brother's +marriage; the long years <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>of evening lessons. Perhaps she was still +seventeen, studying the Greek verbs for the Bachelorhood of Arts, +perhaps her mother was still a happy wife. Her eyes filled with tears, +and she let herself dwell upon the wondrous possibility a second or so +longer than she believed in it. For the smell of new paint was too +potent; it routed the persuasions of the old furniture. And in another +instant it had penetrated through Mrs. Brill's fatigue. She started +up, aware of something subtly wrong, ere clearer consciousness dawned.</p> + +<p>"Michael!" she shrieked, groping.</p> + +<p>"Hush, hush, mother!" said Salvina, with a pain as of swords at her +heart. She felt her mother had stumbled—with whatever significance—upon +the word of the enigma. "Another trick has been played on us."</p> + +<p>"A trick!" Mrs. Brill groped further. "But <i>you</i> brought me. How comes +this house here? What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to surprise you. I have rented the old house, and some one +else has put in the old furniture."</p> + +<p>"Michael is coming back! You and your father have plotted."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother! How can you accuse me of such a thing!" All the expected +joy of the surprise had been changed to anguish, she felt, both for +her and for her mother. Oh, what a fatal mistake! "I won't have the +furniture, we'll pitch it into the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>street—we are going to live here +together, mammy, you and I, in the old home. We can afford it now."</p> + +<p>She laid her cheek to her mother's, but Mrs. Brill broke away +petulantly and ran toward the parlour. "And does he think I'll have +anything to do with him after all these years!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Dear mother, he doesn't know you if he thinks that!" said Salvina, +following her.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed! And a chip out of my best vase, just as I thought! And +that isn't my chair—he's shoved me in one of a worse set. The +horsehair may seem the same, but look at the legs—no carving at all. +And where's the extra leaf of the table? Gone, too, I daresay. And my +little gilt shovel that used to stand in the fender here, what's +become of that? And do you call this a sofa? with the castors all off! +Oh, my God, she has ruined all my furniture," and she burst into +hysteric tears.</p> + +<p>Salvina could do nothing till the torrent had spent itself. But she +was busy, thinking. She saw that again her brother and her father had +conspired together. Hence Lazarus's officiousness toward the landlord +and the workmen—that he might easily get the entry to the house. But +perhaps the conspiracy had not the significance her mother put upon +it. Perhaps Lazarus was principal, not agent; in the flush of his new +prosperity he had really projected a generous act; perhaps he had +resolved to put the coping-stone on the surprise Salvina was preparing +for her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>mother, and had hence negotiated with the father for the old +things. If so, she felt she had not the right to make her mother +refuse them; the rather, she must hasten at once to Lazarus to pour +out her appreciation of his thoughtfulness.</p> + +<p>"Come along, mother," she said at last, "don't sit there, crying. I +think Lazarus must have bought back the things for you. You see, +mammy, I wanted to give you a little surprise, and dear Lazarus has +given <i>me</i> a little surprise."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think it's only Lazarus?" asked Mrs. Brill, and to +Salvina's anxious ear there seemed a shade of disappointment in the +tone.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it is—father couldn't possibly have the impudence. After +all these years, too!"</p> + +<p>But when she at last got her mother to Lazarus, that gentleman +confessed aggressively that he had been only the agent.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you shouldn't let the poor old man come back," he +said. "The other person died a year ago, only nobody liked to tell +mother, she was so bristly and snappy."</p> + +<p>"Ah," interrupted Mrs. Brill exultantly, "then Heaven has heard my +curses. May she burn in the lowest Gehenna. May her body become one +yellow flame like her dyed hair."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Salvina sternly. "God shall judge the dead."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course you always take everybody's part <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>against your mother." +And Mrs. Brill burst into tears again and sank into the new +easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"I do think mother's right," said Lazarus sullenly. "Why do you stand +in her way?"</p> + +<p>"I?" Salvina was paralyzed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if it wasn't for you—"</p> + +<p>"Mother, do you hear what Lazarus is saying? That I keep you from +father!"</p> + +<p>"Father! A pretty father to you! He waits till she's dead, and then he +wants to creep back to us. But let him lie on her grave. He'll swell +to bursting before he crosses my door-step."</p> + +<p>"There, Lazarus, do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I hear," he said incredulously. "But does she know what father +offers her—every comfort, every luxury? He is rich now."</p> + +<p>"Rich?" said Mrs. Brill. "The old swindler!"</p> + +<p>"He didn't swindle—he's very sorry for the past now, and awfully kind +and generous."</p> + +<p>Salvina had a flash of insight. "Ho! So this is why—" She checked +herself and looked round the handsome room, and the new easy-chair in +which her mother sat became suddenly as hateful as the old.</p> + +<p>"Well, suppose it is?" said Lazarus defiantly. "I don't see why we +shouldn't share in his luck."</p> + +<p>"And where does the luck come from?" Salvina demanded.</p> + +<p>"What's that to do with us? From the Stock Exchange, I believe."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span>"And where did he get the money to gamble with?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they always had money."</p> + +<p>Salvina's eyes blazed. The nerveless creature of the school became a +fury. "And you'd touch that!"</p> + +<p>"Hang it all, he owes us reparation. You, too, Salvina—he is anxious +to do everything for you. He says you must chuck up school—it's +simply wearing you away. He says he wants to take you abroad—to +Paris."</p> + +<p>"Oh, and so he thinks he'll get round mother by getting round me, does +he? But let him take his furniture away at once, or we'll pitch it +into the street. At once, do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"He won't mind." Lazarus smiled irritatingly. "He wants to put better +furniture in, and his real desire is to move to a big house in +Highbury New Park. But I persuaded him to put back the old +furniture—I thought it would touch you—a token, you know, that he +wanted 'auld lang syne.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I understood," said Salvina, and then she thought suddenly +of Kitty and a burst of hysteric laughter caught her. "Elopements +economically conducted," went through her mind. "By the day or hour!" +And she imagined the new phrases Kitty would coin. "The Prodigal +Father and the Pantechnicon"—"The old Love and the old Furniture," +and the wild laughter rang on, till Lazarus was quite disconcerted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>"I don't see where the fun comes in," he said wrathfully. "Father is +very sorry, indeed he is. He quite cried to me—on that very chair +where mother is sitting. I swear to you he did. And you have the heart +to laugh!"</p> + +<p>"Would you have me cry, too? No, no; I am glad he is punished."</p> + +<p>"Yes—a nice miserable lonely old age he has before him."</p> + +<p>"He has plenty of money."</p> + +<p>"You're a cold, unfeeling minx! I don't envy the man who marries you, +Salvina."</p> + +<p>Salvina flushed. "I don't, either—if he were to treat me as mother +has been treated."</p> + +<p>"Yes, no one has had a life like mine, since the world began," moaned +Mrs. Brill, and her waning tears returned in full flood.</p> + +<p>"My poor mammy," and Salvina put a handkerchief to the flooded cheeks. +"Come home, we have had enough of this."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brill rose obediently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, take her home," said Lazarus savagely, "take her to your +shabby, stinking lodging, when she might have a house in Highbury New +Park and three servants."</p> + +<p>"She has a house at Hackney, and I'll give her a servant, too. Come, +mother."</p> + +<p>Salvina mopped up her mother's remaining tears, and with an +inspiration of arrogant independence, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>she rang for Lazarus's servant +and bade her hail a hansom cab.</p> + +<p>"If you don't want all Hackney to come and gaze at a furnished road," +she said, in parting, "you'll take away that furniture yourself."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brill bowled homeward, half consoled for everything by this +charioted magnificence. Some neighbours stood by gossiping as she +alighted, and then her unspoken satisfaction was complete.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XII</h4> + +<p>They moved into the new-old house, after Salvina had carefully +ascertained that the furniture had returned to the cloud under which +it had so long lived. In her resentment against its reappearance, she +spent more than she could afford on the rival furniture that succeeded +it, and which she now studied to make unlike it, so that quite without +any touch of conscious taste, it became light, elegant, and even +artistic in comparison with the old horsehair massiveness.</p> + +<p>Then began a very bad year for Salvina, even though the Damocles sword +of Kitty's dismissal never fell, and Lily's migration to the Cape with +Moss M. Rosenstein left Kitty still in power as companion to Mabel, to +judge at least by Kitty's not seeking the parental roof, even as +visitor. Mrs. Brill's happiness did not keep pace with the restored +grandeurs and Salvina's own spurt of hope died down. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>She grew wanner +than ever, going listlessly to her work and returning limp and fagged +out.</p> + +<p>"You mew me up here with not a soul to speak to from morning till +night," her mother burst forth one day.</p> + +<p>Salvina was not sorry to have her mother's silent lachrymosity thus +interpreted. But she regretted that her helpless parent had not +expressed her satisfaction with gossip when the Ghetto provided it, +instead of yearning for higher scenes. She tried again to persuade +Mrs. Brill to learn to read by way of mental resource, and Mrs. Brill +indeed made some spasmodic efforts to master the alphabet and the +vagaries of pronunciation from an infant's primer. But her brain was +too set; and she forgot from word to word, and made bold bad guesses, +so that even when "a fat cat sat on a mat" she was capable of making a +fat cow eat in a mug. She struggled loyally though, except when +Salvina's attention relaxed for an instant, and then she would proceed +by leaps and bounds, like a cheating child with the teacher's eye off +it, getting over five lines in the time she usually took to spell out +one, and paradoxically pleased with herself at her rapid progress.</p> + +<p>Salvina was in despair. There is no crêche for mothers, or she might +have sent Mrs. Brill to one. She bethought herself of at last laying +on a servant, as providing the desired combination of grandeur and +gossip. To pay for the servant she undertook <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>two hours of extra +night-teaching. But the maid-of all-work proved only an exhaustless +ground for grumbling. Mrs. Brill had never owned a servant, and the +girl's deviation from angelhood of character and unerring perfection +of action in every domestic department were a constant disappointment +and grief to the new mistress.</p> + +<p>"A nice thing you have done for me," she wept to Salvina, having +carefully ascertained the servant was out of ear-shot, "to seat a +mistress on my head—and for that I must pay her into the bargain."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you glad you haven't got three servants?" said Salvina, with a +touch of irresistible irony.</p> + +<p>"Don't throw up to me that you're saving me from falling on your +father. I can be my own bread-winner. I don't want your doll's house +furniture that one is scared to touch—like walking among eggshells. +I'd rather live in one room and scrub floors than be beholden to +anybody. Then I should be my own mistress, and not under a daughter's +thumb. If only Kitty would marry, then I could go to <i>her</i>. Why +doesn't she marry? It isn't as if she were like you. Is there a +prettier girl in the whole congregation? It's because she's got no +money, my poor, hardworking little Kitty. Her father would give her a +dowry, if he were a man, not a pig."</p> + +<p>"Mother!" Salvina was white and trembling. "How can you dream of +that?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>"Not for myself. I'd see him rot before I'd take a farthing of his +money. But I'm not domineering and spiteful like you. I don't stand in +the way of other people benefiting. The money will only go to some +other vermin. Kitty may as well have some."</p> + +<p>"Lazarus has some. That's enough, and more than enough."</p> + +<p>"Lazarus deserves it—he is a better son to me than you are a +daughter!" and the tears fell again.</p> + +<p>Salvina cast about for what to do. Her mother's nerves were no doubt +entirely disorganized by her sufferings and by the shock of Lazarus's +trick. Some radical medicine must be applied. But every day Duty took +Salvina to school and harassed her there and drove her to private +lessons afterward, and left her neither the energy nor the brain for +further innovations. And whenever she met Lazarus by accident—for she +was too outraged to visit a house practically kept up by dishonourable +money, apart from her objection to its perpetually festive atmosphere +of solo-whist supper-parties—he would sneer at her high and mighty +airs in casting out the furniture. "Oh, we're very grand now, we keep +a servant; we have cut our father off with a shilling."</p> + +<p>She wished her mother would not go to see Lazarus, but she felt she +had not the right to interfere with these visits, though Mrs. Brill +returned from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>them, fretful and restive. Evidently Lazarus must be +still insinuating reconciliation.</p> + +<p>"Lazarus worries you, mother, I feel sure," she ventured to say once.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he is a good son. He wants me to live with him."</p> + +<p>"What! On <i>her</i> money!"</p> + +<p>"It isn't her money—your father made it on the Stock Exchange."</p> + +<p>"Who told you so?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't you hear Lazarus say so yourself?"</p> + +<p>Then a horrible suspicion came to Salvina. "He doesn't set father at +you when you go there?" she cried.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brill flushed furiously. "I'd like to see him try it on," she +murmured.</p> + +<p>Salvina stooped to kiss her. "But he tells you tales of father's +riches, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Who wants his riches? If he offered me my own horse and carriage, I +wouldn't be seen with him after the disgrace he's put upon me."</p> + +<p>"I wish, mother, Lazarus had inherited your sense of honour."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brill was pleased. "There isn't a woman in the world with more +pride! Your father made a mistake when he began with me!"</p> + +<br /> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>XIII</h4> + +<p>A horse and carriage did come, one flamboyant afternoon, but it was +the Samuelsons', and brought the long-absent Kitty. And Kitty as usual +brought a present. This time it was a bracelet, and Mrs. Brill clasped +and unclasped it ecstatically, feeling that she had at least one +daughter who loved her and did not domineer. Salvina was at school, +and Mrs. Brill took Kitty all over the house, enjoying her approval, +and accepting all the praise for the lighter and more artistic +furniture. She told her of the episode of the return of the old +furniture—"And didn't have the decency to put new castors on the sofa +she had sprawled on!"</p> + +<p>Kitty's laughter was as loud and ringing as Salvina had anticipated; +Mrs. Brill coloured under it, as though <i>she</i> were found food for +laughter. "What a ridiculous person he is!" Kitty added hastily.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Brill with eager pride and relief. "He thought he +could coax me back like a dog with a bit of sugar."</p> + +<p>"It would be too funny to live with him again." And Kitty's eyes +danced.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" said Mrs. Brill anxiously. And under the sunshine +of her daughter's approval she confided to her that he had really +turned up twice at Lazarus's, beautifully costumed, with diamonds on +his fingers and a white flower in his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span>button-hole, but that she had +repulsed him as she would repulse a drunken heathen. He had put his +arms round her, but she had shaken him off as one shakes off a black +beetle.</p> + +<p>Kitty turned away and stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth. She +knew there was a tragic side, but the comic aspect affected her more.</p> + +<p>"Then you think I was right?" Mrs. Brill wound up.</p> + +<p>"Of course," Kitty said soothingly. "What do you want of him?"</p> + +<p>"But don't tell Salvina, or she'd eat my head off." And then, the +eager upleaping fountain of her mother's egoistic babblings beginning +at last to trickle thinly, Kitty found a breathing-space in which to +inform her of the great news that throbbed in her own breast.</p> + +<p>"Lily Samuelson's dead! Mrs. Rosenstein, you know!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God!" ejaculated Mrs. Brill, trembling like a leaf. Nothing +upset her more than to find that persons within her ken could actually +die.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we had a cable from the Cape yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Hear, O Israel! Let me see—yes, she must have died in child-birth."</p> + +<p>"She did—the house is all in hysterics. I couldn't stand it any +longer. I ordered the carriage and came here."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>"My poor Kitty! That Lily was too old to have a baby. And now he will +marry Mabel."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he will. Mabel will jump at him, you'll see."</p> + +<p>"But it isn't legal—you can't marry your deceased wife's sister."</p> + +<p>"I know you can't in England—what foolishness! But they'll go to +Holland to be married."</p> + +<p>"Don't be so absurd, mother."</p> + +<p>"Absurd!" Mrs. Brill glared. "You mark my words. They'll be in Holland +before the year's out, like Hyam Emanuel's eldest brother-in-law and +the red-haired sister of Samuel, the pawnbroker."</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't care if they are," said Kitty, yawning.</p> + +<p>"Don't care! Why, you'll lose your place. They kept you on for Mabel, +but now—"</p> + +<p>Kitty cut her short. "Don't worry, mother. I'll be all right. He's not +married Mabel yet."</p> + +<p>This reminder seemed to come to Mrs. Brill like a revelation, so fast +had her imagination worked. She calmed down and Kitty took the +opportunity to seek to escape. "Tell Salvina the news," she said. +"She'll be specially interested in it. In fact, judging by the last +time, she'll be more excited than I am," and she smiled somewhat +mysteriously. "Tell her I'm sorry I missed her—I was hoping to find +her having a holiday, but apparently I haven't been lucky enough to +strike some Jewish fast."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>But partly because Mrs. Brill was enraptured by her beautiful +daughter, partly to keep the pompous equipage outside her door as long +as possible, she detained Kitty so unconscionably that Salvina arrived +from school. Kitty flew to embrace her as usual, but arrested herself, +shocked.</p> + +<p>"Why, Sally!" she cried. "You look like a ghost! What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Salvina with a wan smile. "Just the excitement of +seeing you, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Kitty performed the postponed embrace but remained dubious and shaken. +Was it that her mind was morbidly filled with funereal images, or was +it that her fresh eye had seen what her mother's custom-blinded vision +had missed—that there was death in Salvina's face?</p> + +<p>This face of death-in-life stirred up unwonted emotions in Kitty and +made her refrain apprehensively from speaking again of Lily's death; +and some days later, when the first bustle of grief had subsided in +Bedford Square, Kitty, still haunted by that grewsome vision, wrote +Salvina a letter.</p> + +<div class="block"><p>"<span class="sc">My dear old Sally</span>,—You must really draw in your +horns. You were not looking at all well the other day. You are +burning the candle at both ends, I am sure. That horrid Board +School is killing you. I am going to beg a fortnight's holiday +for you, and I am going to take you to Boulogne for a week, and +then, when you are all braced up again, we can have the second +week at Paris."</p></div> + +<br /> + +<div class="block"><p>"<span class="sc">My dearest and best of Sisters</span>," [Salvina replied,]<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> +"How shocking the news mother has told me of the death of poor +Lily! If she did wrong she was speedily punished. But let us +hope she really loved him. I am sure that your brooding on her +sad fate and your sympathy with the family in this terrible +affliction has made you fancy all sorts of things about me, just +as mother is morbidly apprehensive of that horrible creature +marrying Mabel and thus robbing you of your place. But your +sweet letter did me more good than if I had really gone to +Paris. How did you know it was the dream of my life? But it +cannot be realized just yet, for it would be impossible for me +to be spared from school just now. Miss Green is away with +diphtheria, and as this is examination time, Miss Rolver has her +hands full. Besides, mother would be left alone. Don't worry +about me, darling. I always feel like this about this time of +year, but the summer holiday is not many weeks off and Ramsgate +always sets me up again.</p> + +<p class="right">"Your loving sister,<br /> +"<span class="sc">Salvina</span>.</p> + +<p>"P.S. Mother told me you advised her not to go to Lazarus's any +more, and she isn't going. I am so glad, dear. These visits have +worried her, as Lazarus is so persistent. I am only sorry I +didn't think of enlisting your influence before—it is naturally +greater than mine. Good-bye, dear.</p> + +<p>"P.P.S. I find I have actually forgotten to thank you for your +generous offer. But you know all that is in my heart, don't you, +darling?"</p></div> + +<p>All the same Kitty's alarm began to communicate itself to Salvina, +especially after repeated if transient premonitions of fainting in her +class-room. For what would happen if she really fell ill? She could +get sick leave of course for a time; though that would bring her under +the eagle eye of the Board Doctor, before which every teacher quailed. +He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span>might brutally pronounce her unfit for service. And how if she did +break down permanently? Or if she died! Her savings were practically +nil; her salary ceased with her breath. Who would support her mother? +Kitty of course would nobly take up the burden, but it would be +terribly hard on her, especially when Mabel Samuelson should come to +marry. Not that she was going to die, of course; she was too used to +being sickly. Death was only a shadow, hovering far off.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XIV</h4> + +<p>What was to be done? An inspiration came to her in the shape of a +pamphlet. Life Assurance! Ah, that was it. Scottish Widows' Fund! How +peculiarly apposite the title. If her mother could be guaranteed a +couple of thousand pounds, Death would lose its sting. Salvina +carefully worked out all the arithmetical points involved, and +discovered to her surprise that life assurance was a form of gambling. +The Company wagered her that she would live to a certain age, and she +wagered that she would not. But after a world of trouble in filling up +documents and getting endorsers, when she went before the Company's +Doctor she was refused. The bet was not good enough. "Heart weak," was +the ruthless indictment. "You ought not to teach," the Doctor even +told her privately, and amid all her consternation <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>Salvina was afraid +lest by some mysterious brotherhood he should communicate with the +Board Doctor and rob her of her situation. She began praying to God +extemporaneously, in English. That was, for her, an index of +impotence. She was at the end of her resources. She could see only a +blank wall, and the wall was a great gravestone on which was +chiselled: "<i>Hic jacet</i>, Salvina Brill, School Board Teacher, +Undergraduate of London University. Unloved and unhappy."</p> + +<p>She wept over the inscription, being still romantic. Poor mother, poor +Kitty, what a blow her death would be to them! Even Lazarus would be +sorry. And in the thought of them she drifted away from the rare mood +of self-pity and wondered again how she could get together enough +money before she died to secure her mother's future. But no suggestion +came even in answer to prayer. Once she thought of the Stock Exchange, +but it seemed to her vaguely wicked to conjure with stocks and shares. +She had read articles against it. Besides, what did she understand? +True, she understood as much as her father. But who knew whether his +money really came from this source? She dismissed the Stock Exchange +despairingly.</p> + +<p>And meanwhile Mrs. Brill continued peevish and lachrymose, and Salvina +found it more and more difficult to hide her own melancholy. One day, +as she was leaving the school-premises, Sugarman the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>Shadchan +accosted her. "Do make a beginning," he said winningly. "Only a +sixteenth of a ticket. You can't lose."</p> + +<p>Sugarman still never thought of her even as a refuge for impecunious +bachelors, but with that shameless pertinacity which was the secret of +his success, both as British marriage-maker and continental lottery +agent, he had never ceased cajoling her toward his other net. He was +now destined to a success which surprised even himself. Her scrupulous +conscientiousness undermined by her analysis of the Assurance System, +Salvina inquired eagerly as to the prizes, and bought three whole +tickets at a quarter of the price of one Assurance instalment.</p> + +<p>Sugarman made a careful note of the numbers, and so did Salvina. But +it was unnecessary in her case. They were printed on her brain, graven +on her heart, repeated in her prayers; they hovered luminous across +her day-dreams, and if they distracted feverishly her dreams of the +night, yet they tinged the school-routine pleasantly and made her +mother's fretfulness endurable. They actually improved her health, and +as the May sunshine warmed the earth, Salvina felt herself bourgeoning +afresh, and she told herself her fears were morbid.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless there was one thing she was resolved to complete, in case +she were truly doomed, and that was her mother's education in reading, +so often begun, so often foiled by her mother's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span>pertinacious +subsidence into contented ignorance. Of what use even to assure Mrs. +Brill's physical future, if her mind were to be left a pauper, +dependent on others? How, without the magic resource of books, could +she get through the long years of age, when decrepitude might confine +her to the chimney-corner? Already her talk groaned with aches and +pains.</p> + +<p>Since the servant had been installed, the reading lessons had dropped +off and finally been discontinued. Now that Salvina persisted in +continuing, she found that her mother's brain had retained nothing. +Mrs. Brill had to begin again at the alphabet, and all the old routine +of audacious guessing recommenced. Again a fat cow ate in a mug, for +though Mrs. Brill had no head at all for corrections, she had a +wonderful memory for her own mistakes, and took the whole sentence at +a confident jump. It was an old friend.</p> + +<p>One evening, in the kitchen to which Mrs. Brill always gravitated when +the servant was away, she paused between her misreadings to dilate on +the inconsiderateness of the servant in having this day out, though +she was paid for the full week, and though the mistress had to stick +at home and do all the work. As Salvina seemed to be spiritless this +evening, and allowed the domestic to go undefended, this topic was +worn out more quickly than usual, but the never failing subject of +Mrs. Brill's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span>aches and pains provided more pretexts for dodging the +hard words. And meantime in a chair beside hers, poor Salvina, silent +as to her own aches and pains, and the faintness which was coming over +her, strained her attention to follow in correction on the heels of +her mother's reading; but do what she would, she could not keep her +eyes continuously on the little primer, and whenever Mrs. Brill became +aware that Salvina's attention had relaxed, she scampered along at a +breakneck speed, taking trisyllables as unhesitatingly as a hunter a +three-barred gate. But every now and again Salvina would struggle back +into concentration, and Mrs. Brill would tumble at the first ditch.</p> + +<p>At last, Mrs. Brill, to her content, found herself cantering along, +unimpeded, for a great stretch. Salvina lay back in her chair, dead.</p> + +<p>"The broken dancer only merry danger," read Mrs. Brill, at a joyous +gallop. Suddenly the knocker beat a frantic tattoo on the street door. +Up jumped Mrs. Brill, in sheer nervousness.</p> + +<p>Salvina lay rigid, undisturbed.</p> + +<p>"She's fallen asleep," thought her mother, guiltily conscious of +having taken advantage of her slumbers. "All the same, she might spare +my aged bones the trouble of dragging upstairs." But, being already on +her feet, she mounted the stairs, and opened the door on Sugarman's +beaming, breathless face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>"Your daughter—Number 75,814," he gasped.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brill, who knew nothing of Salvina's speculations, took some +seconds to catch his drift.</p> + +<p>"What, what?" she cried, trembling.</p> + +<p>"I have won her a hundred thousand marks—the great prize!"</p> + +<p>"The great prize!" screamed Mrs. Brill. "Salvina! Salvina! Come up," +and not waiting for her reply, and overturning the flower-pots on the +hall-table, she flew downstairs, helter-skelter. "Salvina!" she shook +her roughly. "Wake up! You have won the great prize!"</p> + +<p>But Salvina did not wake up, though she had won the great prize.</p> + +<br /> + +<h4>XV</h4> + +<p>One Sunday afternoon nearly five months later a nondescript series of +vehicles, erratically and unpunctually succeeding one another, drew up +near the mortuary of the Jewish cemetery, but, from the presence of +women, it was obvious that something else than a funeral was in +progress. In fact, the two four-wheelers, three hansom cabs, several +dog-carts, and one open landau suggested rather a picnic amid the +tombs. But it was only the ceremony of the setting of Salvina's +tombstone, which was attracting all these relatives and well-wishers.</p> + +<p>In the landau—which gave ample space for their knees—sat the same +quartette that had shared a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>cab to Lazarus's wedding, except that +Salvina was replaced by Kitty. That ever young and beautiful person +was the only member of the family who had the air of having fallen in +the world, for despite that Salvina's great prize was now added to Mr. +Brill's capital (he being the legal heir), he had refused to set up a +groom in addition to a carriage. A coachman, he insisted, was all that +was necessary. It was the same tone that he had taken about the +horsehair sofa, and it helped Mrs. Brill to feel that her husband was +unchanged, after all.</p> + +<p>Arrived on the ground, the Brills found a gathering of the Jonases, +reconciled by death and riches. Others were to arrive, and the party +distributed itself about the cemetery with an air of conscious +incompleteness. Old Jonas shook hands cordially with Lazarus, and +wiped away a tear from under his green shade. A few of Salvina's +fellow-teachers had obeyed the notification of the advertisement in +the Jewish papers, and were come to pay the last tribute of respect. +The men wore black hat-bands, the women crape, which on all the nearer +relatives already showed signs of wear. And among all these groups, +conversing amiably of this or that in the pleasant October sunshine, +the genteel stone-mason insinuated himself, pervading the gathering. +His breast was divided between anxiety as to whether the parents would +like the tombstone, and uncertainty as to whether they would pay on +the spot.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>"Have you seen the stone? What do you think of it?" he kept saying to +everybody, with a deferential assumption of artistic responsibility; +though, as it was a handsome granite stone, the bulk of the chiselling +had been done in Aberdeen, for the sake of economy, whilst the stone +was green, and his own contribution had been merely the Hebrew +lettering. One by one, under the guidance of the artist, the groups +wandered toward the tombstone, and a spectator or two admiringly +opened negotiations for future contingencies. An old lady who knew the +stonemason's sister-in-law strove to make a bargain for her own +tombstone, quite forgetting that the money she was saving on it would +not be enjoyed by herself.</p> + +<p>"What will you charge <i>me</i>?" she asked, with grotesque coquetry. "I +think you ought to do it cheaper for <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>And in the House of the Priests the minister in charge of the +ceremonial impatiently awaited the late comers, that he might intone +the beautiful immemorial Psalms. He had made a close bargain with the +cabman, and was anxious not to set him grumbling over the delay; apart +from his desire to get back to his pretty wife, who was "at home" that +afternoon.</p> + +<p>At last the genteel stone-mason found an opportunity of piercing +through the throng of friends that surrounded Mr. Brill, and of +obsequiously inviting the generous orderer of this especially +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span>handsome and profitable tombstone to inspect it. Kitty followed in the +wake of her parents. Almost at the tomb, a corpulent man with graying +hair, issuing suddenly from an avenue of headstones, accosted her. She +frowned.</p> + +<p>"You oughtn't to have come," she said.</p> + +<p>"Since I belong to the family, Kitty," he remonstrated, playing +nervously with his massive watch seals.</p> + +<p>"No, you don't," she retorted. Then, relentingly: "I told you, Moss, +that I could not give you my formal consent till after my sister's +tombstone was set. That is the least respect I can pay her." And she +turned away from the somewhat disconcerted Rosenstein, feeling very +right-minded and very forgiving toward Salvina for delaying by so many +years her marriage with the South African magnate.</p> + +<p>Meantime Mr. Brill, in his heavily draped high hat, stood beside the +pompous granite memorial, surveying it approvingly. His wife's hand +lay tenderly in his own. Underneath their feet lay the wormy dust that +had once palpitated with truth and honour, that had kept the +conscience of the household.</p> + +<p>"That bit of scroll-work," said the stone-mason admiringly, and with +an air of having thrown it in at a loss; "you don't often see a bit +like that—everybody's been saying so."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>"Very fine!" replied Mr. Brill obediently.</p> + +<p>"I paid the synagogue bill for you—to save you trouble," added the +stone-mason, insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Brill was abstractedly studying the stone, and the mason moved +off delicately. Mrs. Brill tried to spell out a few of the words, but, +as there was no one to reprimand her, admitted her break-down.</p> + +<p>"Read it to me, dear heart," she whispered to Mr. Brill.</p> + +<p>"I did read it you, my precious one," he said, "when Kitty sent it us. +It says:—</p> + +<p class="cen"> +"'<span class="sc">Salvina Brill</span>,<br /> +Whom God took suddenly,<br /> +On May 29th, 1897,<br /> +Aged twenty-five;<br /> +Loved and lamented by all<br /> +For her perfect goodness.'</p> + +<p class="noin">Then come the Hebrew letters."</p> + +<p>"Poor Salvina!" sighed Mrs. Brill. "She deserves it, though she did +spoil our lives for years." He pressed her hand. "I can't tell you how +frightened I was of her," she went on. "She almost made me think I +ought not to forgive you even on the Day of Atonement. But I don't +bear her malice, and I don't grudge her what the stone says."</p> + +<p>"No, you mustn't," he said piously. "Besides, everybody knows one +never puts the whole truth on tombstones."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span><br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>VIII</h2> + +<h2>SATAN MEKATRIG</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>VIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>SATAN MEKATRIG</h3> + +<br /> + +<div class="block"><p>"<i>Suffer not the evil imagination to have dominion over us ... +deliver me from the destructive Satan.</i>"—Morning Prayer.</p></div> + +<p>Without, the air was hot, heavy and oppressive; squadrons of dark +clouds had rolled up rapidly from the rim of the horizon, and +threatened each instant to shake heaven and earth with their +artillery. But within the little synagogue of the "Congregation of +Love and Mercy," though it was crowded to suffocation, not a window +was open. The worshippers, arrayed in their Sabbath finery, were too +intent on following the quaint monotonous sing-song of the Cantor +reading the Law to have much attention left for physical discomfort. +They thought of their perspiring brows and their moist undergarments +just about as little as they thought of the meaning of the Hebrew +words the reader was droning. Though the language was perfectly +intelligible to them, yet their consciousness was chiefly and +agreeably occupied with its musical accentuation, their piety being so +interwoven with these beloved and familiar material elements as hardly +to be separable therefrom. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span>Perspiration, too, had come to seem almost +an ingredient of piety on great synagogal occasions. Frequent +experience had linked the two, as the poor opera-goer associates Patti +with crushes. And the present was a great occasion. It was only an +ordinary Sabbath afternoon service, but there was a feast of +intellectual good things to follow. The great Rav Rotchinsky from +Brody was to deliver a sermon; and so the swarthy, eager-eyed, +curly-haired, shrewd-visaged cobblers, tailors, cigar-makers, +peddlers, and beggars, who made up the congregation, had assembled in +their fifties to enjoy the dialectical subtleties, the theological +witticisms and the Talmudical anecdotes which the reputation of the +Galician Maggid foreshadowed. And not only did they come themselves; +many brought their wives, who sat in their wigs and earrings behind a +curtain which cut them off from the view of the men. The general +ungainliness of their figures and the unattractiveness of their +low-browed, high-cheekboned, and heavy-jawed faces would have made +this pious precaution appear somewhat superfluous to an outsider. The +women, whose section of the large room thus converted into a place of +worship was much smaller than the men's, were even more closely packed +on their narrow benches. Little wonder, therefore, that just as a +member of the congregation was intoning from the central platform the +blessing which closes the reading of the Law, a woman disturbed her +neighbours by fainting. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>She was carried out into the open air, though +not without a good deal of bustle, which invoked indignant +remonstrances in the Jüdisch-Deutsch jargon, of "Hush, little women!" +from the male worshippers, unconscious of the cause. The beadle went +behind the curtain, and, fearing new disturbances, tried to open the +window at the back of the little room, to let in some air from the +back-yard on which it abutted. The sash was, however, too inert from a +long season of sloth to move even in its own groove, and so the beadle +elbowed his way back into the masculine department, and by much +tugging at a cord effected a small slit between a dusty skylight and +the ceiling, neglecting the grumblings of the men immediately beneath.</p> + +<p>Hardly had he done so, when all the heavy shadows that lay in the +corners of the synagogue, all the glooms that the storm-clouds cast +upon the day, and that the grimy, cobwebbed windows multiplied, were +sent flying off by a fierce flash of lightning that bathed in a sea of +fire the dingy benches, the smeared walls, the dingily curtained Ark, +the serried rows of swarthy faces. Almost on the heels of the +lightning came the thunder—that vast, instantaneous crash which +denotes that the electric cloud is low.</p> + +<p>The service was momentarily interrupted; the congregation was on its +feet; and from all parts rose the Hebrew blessing, "Blessed art thou, +O Lord, performing the work of the Creation;" followed, as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>the +thunder followed the lightning, by the sonorous "Blessed art thou, O +Lord, whose power and might fill the Universe." Then the congregation, +led by the great Rav Rotchinsky, to whose venerable thought-lined +face, surmounted by its black cap, all eyes had instinctively turned, +sat down again, feeling safe. The blessing was intended to mean, and +meant no more than, a reverential acknowledgment of the majesty of the +Creator revealed in elemental phenomena; but human nature, struggling +amid the terrors and awfulness of the Universe, is always below its +creed, and scarce one but felt the prayer a talisman. A moment +afterward all rose again, as Moshé Grinwitz, wrapped in his Talith, or +praying-shawl, prepared to descend from the <i>Al Memor</i>, or central +platform, bearing in his arms the Scroll of the Law, which had just +been reverentially wrapped in its bandages, and devoutly covered with +its embroidered mantle and lovingly decorated with its ornamental +bells and pointer.</p> + +<p>Now, as Moshé Grinwitz stood on the <i>Al Memor</i> with his sacred burden, +another terrible flash of lightning and appalling crash of thunder +startled the worshippers. And Moshé's arms were nervously agitated, +and a frightful thought came into his head. <i>Suppose he should drop +the Holy Scroll!</i> As this dreadful possibility occurred to him he +trembled still more. The <i>Sepher Torah</i> is to the Jew at once the most +precious and the most sacred of possessions, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>and in the eyes of the +"Congregation of Love and Mercy" their <i>Sepher Torah</i> was, if +possible, invested with a still higher preciousness and sanctity, +because they had only one. They were too poor to afford luxuries; and +so this single Scroll was the very symbol and seal of their +brotherhood; in it lay the very possibility of their existence as a +congregation. Not that it would be rendered "<i>Pasul</i>," imperfect and +invalid, by being dropped; the fall could not erase any of the letters +so carefully written on the parchment; but the calamity would be none +the less awful and ominous. Every person present would have to abstain +for a day from all food and drink, in sign of solemn grief. Moshé felt +that if the idea that had flitted across his brain were to be +realized, he would never have the courage to look his pious wife in +the face after such passive profanity. The congregation, too, which +honoured him, and which now waited to press devout kisses on the +mantle of the Scroll, on its passage to the Ark—he could not but be +degraded in its eyes by so negligent a performance of a duty which was +a coveted privilege. All these thoughts, which were instinctively +felt, rather than clearly conceived, caused Moshé Grinwitz to clasp +the Sacred Scroll, which reached a little above his head, tightly to +his breast. Feeling secure from the peril of dropping it, he made a +step forward, but the bells jangled weirdly to his ears, and when he +came to the two steps which led down from the platform, a horrible +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span>foreboding overcame him that he would stumble and fall in the descent. +He stepped down one of the steps with morbid care, but lo! the feeling +that no power on earth could prevent his falling gained tenfold in +intensity. An indefinable presentiment of evil was upon him; the air +was charged with some awful and maleficent influence, of which the +convulsion of nature seemed a fit harbinger. And now his sensations +became more horrible. The conviction of the impending catastrophe +changed into a desire to take an active part in it, to have it done +with and over. His arms itched to loose their hold of the <i>Sepher +Torah</i>. Oh! if he could only dash the thing to the ground, nay, stamp +upon it, uttering fearful blasphemies, and shake off this dark cloud +that seemed to close round and suffocate him. A last shred of will, of +sanity, wrestled with his wild wishes. The perspiration poured in +streams down his forehead. It was but a moment since he had taken the +Holy Scroll into his arms; but it seemed ages ago.</p> + +<p>His foot hovered between the first and second step, when a strange +thing happened. Straight through the narrow slit opened in the +skylight came a swift white arrow of flame, so dazzling that the awed +worshippers closed their eyes; then a long succession of terrific +peals shook the room as with demoniac laughter, and when the +congregants came to their senses and opened their eyes they saw Moshé +Grinwitz sitting dazed upon the steps of the <i>Al <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>Memor</i>, his hands +tightly grasping the ends of his praying-shawl, while the <i>Sepher +Torah</i> lay in the dust of the floor.</p> + +<p>For a moment the shock was such that no one could speak or move. There +was an awful, breathless silence, broken only by the mad patter of the +rain on the roof and the windows. The floodgates of heaven were opened +at last, and through the fatal slit a very cascade of water seemed to +descend. Automatically the beadle rushed to the cord and pulled the +window to. His action broke the spell, and a dozen men, their swarthy +faces darker with concern, rushed to raise up the prostrate Scroll, +while a hubbub of broken ejaculations rose from every side.</p> + +<p>But ere a hand could reach it, Moshé Grinwitz had darted forward and +seized the precious object. "No, no," he cried, in the jargon which +was the common language of all present. "What do you want? The +<i>mitzvah</i> (good deed) is mine. I alone must carry it." He shouldered +it anew.</p> + +<p>"Kiss it, at least," cried the great Rav Rotchinsky in a hoarse, +shocked whisper.</p> + +<p>"Kiss it?" cried Moshé Grinwitz, with a sneering laugh. "What! with my +wife in synagogue! Isn't it enough that I embrace it?" Then, without +giving his hearers time to grasp the profanity of his words, he went +on: "Ah, now I can carry thee easily. I can hold thee, and yet breathe +freely. See!" And he held out the Scroll lengthwise, showing the +gilded <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span>metal chain and the pointer and the bells contorted by the +lightning. "I didn't hurt thee; God hurt thee," he said, addressing +the Scroll. With a quick jerk of the hand he drew off the mantle and +showed the parchment blackened and disfigured.</p> + +<p>A groan burst from some; others looked on in dazed silence. The +pecuniary loss, added to the manifestation of Divine wrath, +overwhelmed them. "Thou hast no soul now to struggle out of my hands," +went on Moshé Grinwitz contemptuously. "Look!" he added suddenly: "The +lightning has gone back to hell again!" The men nearest him shuddered, +and gazed down at the point on the floor toward which he was inclining +the extremity of the Scroll. The wood was charred, and a small hole +revealed the path the electric current had taken. As they looked in +awestruck silence, a loud wailing burst forth from behind the curtain. +The ill-omened news of the destruction of the <i>Sepher Torah</i> had +reached the women, and their Oriental natures found relief in profuse +lamentation. "Smell! smell!" cried Moshé Grinwitz, sniffing the +sulphurous air with open delight.</p> + +<p>"Woe! woe!" wailed the women. "Woe has befallen us!"</p> + +<p>"Be silent, all!" thundered the Maggid, suddenly recovering himself. +"Be silent, women! Listen to my words. This is the vengeance of Heaven +for the wickedness ye have committed in England. Since <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span>ye left your +native country ye have forgotten your Judaism. There are men in this +synagogue that have shaved the corners of their beard; there are women +who have not separated the Sabbath dough. Hear ye! To-morrow shall be +a fast day for you all. And you, Moshé Grinwitz, <i>bench gomel</i>—thank +the Holy One, blessed be He, for saving your life."</p> + +<p>"Not I," said Moshé Grinwitz. "You talk nonsense. If the Holy One, +blessed be He, saved my life, it was He that threatened it. My life +was in no danger if He hadn't interfered."</p> + +<p>To hear blasphemies like this from the hitherto respectable and devout +Moshé Grinwitz overwhelmed his hearers. But only for a moment. From a +hundred throats there rose the angry cry, "Epikouros! Epikouros!" And +mingled with this accusation of graceless scepticism there swelled a +gathering tumult of "His is the sin! Cast him out! He is the Jonah! He +is the sinner!" The congregants had all risen long ago and menacing +faces glared behind menacing faces. Some of more heady temperament +were starting from their places. "Moshé Grinwitz," cried the great +Rav, his voice dominating the din, "are you mad?"</p> + +<p>"Now for the first time am I sane," replied the man, his brow dark +with defiance, his tall but usually stooping frame rigid, his narrow +chest dilated, his head thrown back so that the somewhat rusty high +hat he wore sloped backward half off his skull. It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span>was always a +strange, arrestive face, was Moshé Grinwitz's, with its sallow skin, +its melancholy dark eyes, its aquiline nose, its hanging side-curls, +and its full, fleshy mouth embowered in a forest of black beard and +mustache; and now there was an uncanny light about it which made it +almost weird. "Now I see that the Socialists and Atheists are right, +and that we trouble ourselves and tear out our very gall to read a +<i>Torah</i> which the Overseer himself, if there is one, scornfully +shrivels up and casts beneath our feet. Know ye what, brethren? Let us +all go to the Socialist Club and smoke our cigarettes. Otherwise are +<i>you</i> mad!" As he uttered these impious words, another flash of flame +lit up the crowded dusk with unearthly light; the building seemed to +rock and crash; the fingers of the storm beat heavily upon the +windows. From the women's compartment came low wails of fear: "Lord, +have mercy! Forgive us for our sins! It is the end of the world!" But +from the men's benches there arose an incoherent cry like the growl of +a tiger, and from all sides excited figures precipitated themselves +upon the blasphemer. But Moshé Grinwitz laughed a wild, maniacal +laugh, and whirled the sacred Scroll round and dashed the first comers +against one another. But a muscular Lithuanian seized the extremity of +the Scroll, and others hung on, and between them they wrested it from +his grasp. Still he fought furiously, as if endowed with sinews of +steel, and his irritated <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span>opponents, their faces bleeding and swollen, +closed round him, forgetting that their object was but to expel him, +and bent on doing him a mischief. Another moment and it would have +fared ill with the man, when a voice, whose tones startled all but +Moshé Grinwitz, though they were spoken close to his ear, hissed in +Yiddish: "Well, if this is the way the members of the Congregation of +Love and Mercy spend their Sabbath, methinks they had done as well to +smoke cigarettes at the Socialist Club. What say ye, brethren?" These +words, pregnant and deserved enough in themselves, were underlined by +an accent of indescribable mockery, not bitter, but as gloating over +the enjoyment of their folly. Involuntarily all turned their eyes to +the speaker.</p> + +<p>Who was he? Where did he spring from, this black-coated, fur-capped, +red-haired hunchback with the gigantic marble brow, the cold, keen, +steely eyes that drew and enthralled the gazer, the handsome +clean-shaven lips contorted with a sneer? None remembered seeing him +enter—none had seen him sitting at their side, or near them. He was +not of their congregation, nor of their brotherhood, nor of any of +their crafts. Yet as they looked at him the exclamations died away on +their lips, their menacing hands fell to their sides, and a wave of +vague, uneasy remembrance passed over all the men in the synagogue. +There was not one that did not seem to know him; there was not one who +could have told <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span>who he was, or when or where he had seen him before. +Even the great Rav Rotchinsky, who had set foot on English soil but a +fortnight ago, felt a stir of shadowy recollection within him; and his +corrugated brow wrinkled itself still more in the search after +definiteness. A deep and sudden silence possessed the synagogue; the +very sobs of the unseeing women were checked. Only the sough of the +storm, the ceaseless plash of the torrent, went on as before. Without, +the busy life of London pulsed, unchecked by the tempest; within, the +little synagogue was given over to mystery and nameless awe.</p> + +<p>The sneering hunchback took the Holy Scroll from the nerveless hands +of the Lithuanian, and waved it as in derision. "Blasted! harmless!" +he cried. "The great Name itself mocked by the elements! So this is +what ye toil and sweat for—to store up gold that His words may be +inscribed finely on choice parchment; and then this is how He laughs +at your toil and your self-sacrifice. Listen to Him no more; give not +up the seventh day to idleness when your Lord worketh His lightnings +thereon. Blind yourselves no longer over old-fashioned pages, dusty +and dreary. Rise up against Him and His law, for He is moved with +mirth at your mummeries. He and His angels laugh at you—Heaven is +merry with your folly. What hath He done for His chosen people for +their centuries of anguish and martyrdom? It is for His plaything that +He hath <i>chosen</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span>you. He hath given you over into the hand of the +spoiler; ye are a byword among nations; the followers of the +victorious Christ spit in your faces. Here in England your lot is +least hard; but even here ye eat your scanty bread with sorrow and +travail. Sleep may rarely visit your eyes; your homes are noisome +styes; your children perish around you; ye go down in sorrow to the +grave. Rouse yourselves, and be free men. Waste your lives neither for +God nor man. Or, if you will worship, worship the Christ, whose +ministers will pour gold upon you. Eat, drink, and be merry, for +to-morrow ye die."</p> + +<p>A charmed silence still hung over his auditors. Their resentment, +their horror, was dead; a waft of fiery air seemed to blow over their +souls, an intoxicating flush of evil thoughts held riot in their +hearts. They felt their whole spirit move under the sway of the daring +speaker, who now seemed to them merely to put into words thoughts long +suppressed in their own hearts, but now rising into active +consciousness. Yes, they had been fools: they would free themselves, +and quaff the wine of life before the Angel of Death, Azrael, spilled +the goblet. Moshé Grinwitz's melancholy eyes blazed with sympathetic +ardour.</p> + +<p>"Hush, miserable blasphemer!" faltered the great Rav Rotchinsky, who +alone could find his tongue. "The guardian of Israel neither +slumbereth nor sleepeth." The hunchback wheeled round and cast <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span>a +chilling glance at the venerable man. Then, smiling, "The maidens of +England are beautiful," he said. "They are even fairer than the women +of Brody."</p> + +<p>The great Rav turned pale, but his eyes shone. He struck out feebly +with his arms, as though beating back some tempting vision.</p> + +<p>"You and I have spoken together before, Rabbi," said the hunchback. +"We shall speak again—about women, wine, and other things. Your beard +is long and white, but many days of sunshine are still before you, and +the darkness of the grave is afar."</p> + +<p>The rabbi tried to mutter a prayer, but his lips only beat tremulously +together.</p> + +<p>"Profane mocker," he muttered at length, "go to thy work and thy wine +and thy pleasure, if thou wouldst desecrate the sacred Sabbath-day; +but tempt not others to sin with thee. Begone; and may the Holy One, +blessed be He, blast thee with His lightnings."</p> + +<p>"The Holy One blasteth only that which is holy," grimly rejoined the +dwarfish stranger, exhibiting the Scroll, while a low sound of +applause went up from the audience. "Said I not, ye were a sport and a +mockery unto Him? Ye assemble in your multitude for prayer, and the +vapour of your piety but prepares the air for the passage of His +arrows. Ye adorn His Scroll with bells and chains, and the gilded +metal but draws His lightnings."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>He looked around the room and a cat-like gleam of triumph stole into +his wonderful eyes as he noted the effect of his words. He paused, and +again for a moment the tense, awful silence reigned, emphasized by the +loud but decreasing patter of the rain. This time it was broken in a +strange, unexpected fashion.</p> + +<p>"<i>Yisgadal, veyiskadash shemé rabbo</i>," rang out a clear, childish +voice from the rear of the synagogue. A little orphan child, who had +come to repeat the <i>Kaddish</i>, the Hebrew mourners' unquestioning +acknowledgment of the Supreme Goodness, had fallen into a sleep, +overcome by the heat, and had slept all through the storm. Awakening +now amid a universal silence, the poor little fellow instinctively +felt that the congregation was waiting for him to pronounce the +prayer. Alone of the male worshippers he had neither seen the +blaspheming hunchback nor listened to his words.</p> + +<p>The hunchback's handsome face was distorted with a scowl; he stamped +his broad splay-foot, but hearing no verbal interruption, the child, +its eyes piously closed, continued its prayer—</p> + +<p>"<i>In the world which He hath created....</i>"</p> + +<p>"The rain has ceased, brethren," huskily whispered the hunchback, for +his words seemed to stick in his throat. "Come outside and I will tell +you how to enjoy this world, for world-to-come there is none." Not a +figure stirred. The child's treble went unfalteringly on. The stranger +hurried <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span>toward the door. Arrived there, he looked back. Moshé +Grinwitz alone followed him. He hurled the Scroll at the child's head, +but the lad just then took the three backward steps which accompany +the conclusion of the prayer. The Scroll dashed itself against the +wall; the stranger was gone and with him Moshé Grinwitz. A great wave +of trembling passed through the length and breadth of the synagogue; +the men drew long breaths, as if some heavy and sulphurous vapour had +been dissipated from the atmosphere; the child lifted up with +difficulty the battered Scroll, kissed it and handed it to his +neighbour, who deposited it reverently in the Ark; a dazzling burst of +sunshine flooded the room from above, and transmuted the floating dust +into the golden shafts of some celestial structure; the Cantor and the +congregation continued the words of the service at the point +interrupted, as though all the strange episode had been a dream. They +did not speak or wonder among themselves at it; nor did the rabbi +allude to it in the marvellous exhortation that succeeded the service, +save at its close, when he reminded them that on the morrow they must +observe a solemn fast. But ever afterward they shunned Moshé Grinwitz +as a leper; for the sight of him recalled his companion in blasphemy, +the atheist and socialist propagandist, who had insidiously crept into +their midst, after perverting <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span>and crazing their fellow as a +preliminary; and the thought of the strange hunchback set their blood +tingling and their brain surging with wild fancies and audacious +thoughts. The tidings of their misfortune induced a few benevolent men +to join in purchasing a new Scroll of the Law for them, and before the +Feast of Consecration of this precious possession was well over, the +once vivid images of that stormy and disgraceful scene were as shadows +in the minds of men not unaccustomed to heated synagogal discussions, +and not altogether strangers to synagogal affrays.</p> + +<br /> + +<div class="block2"><p>"<i>She will do him good and not evil all the days of her +life.</i>"—Prov. xxxi. 12.</p></div> + +<p>As Moshé Grinwitz followed his new-found friend down the narrow +windings that led to his own home, his whole being surrendered itself +to the new delicious freedom. The burst of sunshine that greeted him +almost as soon as he crossed the threshold of the synagogue seemed to +him to typify the new life that was to be his. He drew up his gaunt +form to his full height, stiffened his curved shoulders, bent by much +stooping over his machine, and adjusted his high hat firmly on his +head. It was not a restful, placid feeling that now possessed him; +rather a busy ferment of ideas, a stirring of nerve currents, an +accumulation of energy striving to discharge itself, a mercurial +flowing of the blood. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span>weight of old life-long conceptions, nay, +the burden of old learning, of which his store had been vast, was cast +off. He did not know what he should do with the new life that tingled +in his veins; he only felt alive in every pore.</p> + +<p>"Ha! brother!" he shouted to the hunchback, who was hurrying on +before. "These fools in the synagogue would do better to come out and +enjoy the fine weather."</p> + +<p>"They breathe the musty air to offer it up as a sweet incense," +responded the dwarf, slackening his steps to allow his companion to +come up with him.</p> + +<p>Their short walk was diversified by quite a number of incidents. A +driver lashed his horse so savagely that the animal bolted; two +children walking hand in hand suddenly began to fight; a +foreign-looking, richly dressed gentleman, half-drunk, staggered +along. Moshé felt it a shame that one wealthy man should wear a heavy +gold chain, which would support a poor family for a month; but ere his +own temptation had gathered to a head, the poor gentleman was felled +by a sudden blow, and a respectably clad figure vanished down an alley +with the coveted spoil. Moshé felt glad, and made no attempt to assist +the victim, and his attention was immediately attracted by some boys, +who commenced to tie a cracker to a cat's tail. Occupied by all these +observations, Moshé suddenly noted with a start that they had reached +the house in which he lived. His <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span>companion had already entered the +passage, for the door was always ajar, and Moshé had the impression +that it was very kind of his new friend to accept his invitation to +visit him. He felt very pleased, and followed him into the passage, +but no sooner had he done so than an impalpable cloud of distrust +seemed to settle upon him. The house was a tall, old-fashioned and +grimy structure, which had been fine, and even stately, a century +before, but which now sheltered a dozen families, mainly Jewish. Moshé +Grinwitz's one room was situated at the very top, its walls forming +part of the roof. Every flight of stairs Moshé went up, his spirit +grew darker and darker, as if absorbing the darkness that hung around +the cobwebbed, massive balustrades, upon which no direct ray of +sunlight ever fell; and by the time he had reached the dusky landing +outside his own door the vague uneasiness had changed into a horrible +definite conception; a memory had come back upon him which set his +heart thumping guiltily and anxiously in his bosom. His wife! His +pure, virtuous, God-fearing wife! How was he to make her understand? +But immediately a thought came, by which the burden of shame and +anxiety was half lifted. His wife was not at home; she would still be +in the Synagogue of Love and Mercy, where, mercifully blinded by the +curtain, she, perhaps, was still ignorant of the part he had played. +He turned suddenly to his companion, and caught the vanishing traces +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span>of an ugly scowl wrinkling the high white forehead under the fur cap. +The hunchback's hair burnt like fire on the background of the gloom; +his eyes flashed lightning.</p> + +<p>"Probably my wife is in the synagogue," said Moshé. "If so, she has +the key, and we can't get in."</p> + +<p>"The key matters little," hissed the hunchback. "But you must first +tear down this thing."</p> + +<p>Moshé's eyes followed in wonder the direction of his companion's long, +white forefinger, and rested on the <i>Mezuzah</i>, where, in a tin case, +the holy verses and the Name hung upon the door-post.</p> + +<p>"Tear it down?" repeated Moshé.</p> + +<p>"Tear it down!" replied the hunchback. "Never will I enter a home +where this superstitious gew-gaw is allowed to decorate the door."</p> + +<p>Moshé hesitated; the thought of what his wife would say, again welled +up strongly within him; all his new impious daring seemed to be +melting away. But a mocking glance from the cruel eyes thrilled +through him. He put his hand on the <i>Mezuzah</i>, then the unbroken habit +of years asserted its sway, and he removed the finger which had lain +on the Name and kissed it. Instantly another semi-transformation of +his thoughts took place; he longed to take the hunchback by the +throat. But it was an impotent longing, for when a low hiss of intense +scorn and wrath was breathed from the clenched <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span>lips of his companion, +he made a violent tug at the firmly fastened <i>Mezuzah</i>. It was +half-loosed from the woodwork when, from behind the door, there issued +in clear, womanly tones the solemn Hebrew words:—</p> + +<p>"<i>Blessed is the man that walketh not in the council of the ungodly, +nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the +scornful.</i>"</p> + +<p>It was Rebecca Grinwitz commencing the Book of Psalms, which she read +through every Sabbath afternoon.</p> + +<p>A violent shudder agitated Moshé Grinwitz's frame; he paused with his +hand on the <i>Mezuzah</i>, struggled with himself awhile, then kissed his +finger again, and, turning to defy the scorn of his companion, saw +that he had slipped noiselessly downstairs. A sob of intense relief +burst from Moshé's lips.</p> + +<p>"Rivkoly, Rivkoly!" he cried hysterically, beating at the door; and in +another moment he was folded in the quiet haven of his wife's arms.</p> + +<p>"Who told thee it was I?" said Rebecca, after a moment of delicious +happiness for both. "I told them not to alarm thee, nor to spoil thy +enjoyment of the sermon, because I knew thou wouldst be uneasy and be +wanting to leave the synagogue if thou knewest I had fainted."</p> + +<p>"No one told me thou hadst fainted!" Moshé exclaimed, instantly +forgetting his own perturbation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span>"And yet thou didst guess it!" said Rebecca, a happy little smile +dimpling her pale cheek, "and came away after me." Then, her face +clouding, "The <i>Satan Mekatrig</i> has tempted us both away from +synagogue," she said, "and even when I commence to say <i>Tehillim</i> +(Psalms) at home, he interrupts me by sending me my darling husband."</p> + +<p>Moshé kissed her in acknowledgment of the complimentary termination of +a sentence begun with unquestionable gloom. "But what made my Rivkoly +faint?" he asked, glad, on reflection, that his wife's misconception +obviated the necessity of explanations. "They ought to have opened the +window at the back of the women's room."</p> + +<p>Rebecca shuddered. "God forbid!" she cried. "It wasn't the heat—it +was <i>that</i>." Her eyes stared a moment at some unseen vision.</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Moshé, catching the contagion of horror.</p> + +<p>"He would have come in," she said.</p> + +<p>"Who would have come in?" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Satan Mekatrig</i>," replied his wife. "He was outside, and he +glared at me as if I prevented his coming in."</p> + +<p>A nervous silence followed. Moshé's heart beat painfully. Then he +laughed with ghastly merriment. "Thou didst fall asleep from the +heat," he said, "and hadst an evil dream."</p> + +<p>"No, no," protested his wife earnestly. "As sure <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span>as I stand here, no! +I was looking into my <i>Chumosh</i> (Pentateuch), following the reading of +the <i>Torah</i>, and all at once I felt something plucking my eyes off my +book and turning my head to look through the window immediately behind +me. I wondered what <i>Satan Mekatrig</i> was distracting my thoughts from +the service. For a long time I resisted, but when the reading ceased +for a moment the temptation overcame me and I turned and saw him."</p> + +<p>"How looked he?" Moshé asked in a whisper that strove in vain not to +be one.</p> + +<p>"Do not ask me," Rebecca replied, with another shudder. "A little +crooked demon with red hair, and a fur cap, and a white forehead, and +baleful eyes, and a cock's talons for toes."</p> + +<p>Again Moshé laughed, a strange, hollow laugh. "Little fool!" he said, +"I know the man. He is only a brother-Jew—a poor cutter or +cigar-maker who laughs at <i>Yiddishkeit</i> (Judaism), because he has no +wife like mine to show him the heavenly light. Why, didst thou not see +him afterward? But no, thou must have been gone by the time he came +inside."</p> + +<p>"What I saw was no man," returned Rebecca, looking at him sternly. "No +earthly being could have stopped my heart with his glances. It was the +<i>Satan Mekatrig</i> himself, who goeth to and fro on the earth, and +walketh up and down in it. I must have been having wicked thoughts +indeed this <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span>Sabbath, thinking of my new dress, for my Sabbath Angel +to have deserted me, and to let the Disturber and the Tempter assail +me unchecked." The poor, conscience-stricken woman burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"My Rivkoly have wicked thoughts!" said Moshé incredulously, as he +smoothed her cheek. "If my Rivkoly puts on a new dress in honour of +the Sabbath, is not the dear God pleased? Why, where <i>is</i> thy new +dress?"</p> + +<p>"I have changed it for an old one," she sobbed. "I do not want to see +the demon again."</p> + +<p>"The <i>Satan Mekatrig</i> has no real existence, I tell thee," said Moshé, +irritated. "He only means our own inward thoughts, that distract us in +the performance of the precepts; our own inward temptations to go +astray after our eyes and after our hearts."</p> + +<p>"Moshé!" Rebecca exclaimed in a shocked tone, "have I married an +Epikouros after all? My father, the Rav, peace be unto him, always +said thou hadst the makings of one—that thou didst ask too many +questions."</p> + +<p>"Well, whether there is a <i>Satan</i> or not," retorted her husband, "thou +couldst not have seen him; for the person thou describest is the man I +tell thee of."</p> + +<p>"And thou keepest company with such a man," she answered; "a man who +scoffs at <i>Yiddishkeit</i>! May the Holy One, blessed be He, forgive +thee! Now I know why we have no children, no son to say <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span><i>Kaddish</i> +after us." And Rebecca wept bitterly—for the children she did not +possess.</p> + +<p>Their common cause of grief coming thus unexpectedly into their +consciousness softened them toward one another and dispelled the +gathering irritation. Both had a melancholy vision of themselves +stretched out stiff and stark in their shrouds, with no filial +<i>Kaddish</i> breaking in upon and gladdening their ears. O if their souls +should be doomed to Purgatory, with no son's prayers to release them! +Very soon they were sitting hand in hand, reading together the +interrupted Psalms.</p> + +<p>And a deep peace fell upon Moshé Grinwitz. So the immortal allegorist, +John Bunyan, must have felt when the mad longing to utter blasphemies +and obscenities from the pulpit was stifled; and when he felt his soul +once more in harmony with the Spirit of Good. So feel all men who have +wrestled with a Being in the darkness and prevailed.</p> + +<p>They were a curious contrast—the tall, sallow, stooping, +black-bearded man, and the small, keen-eyed, plump, pleasant-looking, +if not pretty woman, in her dark wig and striped cotton dress, and as +they sat, steadily going through the whole collection of Psalms to a +strange, melancholy tune, fraught with a haunting and indescribable +pathos, the shadows of twilight gathered unnoticed about the attic, +which was their all in all of home. The iron bed, the wooden chairs, +the gilt-framed <i>Mizrach</i> began to lose <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span>their outlines in the +dimness. The Psalms were finished at last, and then the husband and +wife sat, still hand in hand, talking of their plans for the coming +week. For once neither spoke of going to evening service at the +Synagogue of Love and Mercy, and when a silver ray of moonlight lay +broad across the counterpane, and Rebecca Grinwitz, peering into the +quiet sky that overhung the turbid alley, announced that three stars +were visible, the devout couple turned their faces to the east and +sang the hymns that usher out the Sabbath.</p> + +<p>And when the evening prayer was over Rebecca produced from the +cupboard the plainly cut goblet of raisin wine, and the metal +wine-cup, the green twisted waxlight, and the spice-box, wherewith to +perform the beautiful symbolical ceremony of the <i>Havdalah</i>, welcoming +in the days of work, the six long days of dreary drudgery, with +cheerful resignation to the will of the Maker of all things—of the +Sabbath and the Day of Work, the Light and the Shadow, the Good and +the Evil, blent into one divine harmony by His inscrutable Wisdom and +Love.</p> + +<p>Moshé filled the cup with raisin wine, and, holding it with his right +hand, chanted a short majestic Hebrew poem, whereof the burden was:—</p> + +<p>"Lo! God is my salvation; I will trust, and I will not be afraid. Be +with us light and joy, gladness and honour." Then blessing the King of +the Universe, who had created the fruit of the Vine, he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span>placed the +cup on the table and took up the spices, uttering a blessing over them +as he did so. Then having smelled the spice-box, he passed it on to +his wife and spread out his hands toward the light of the spiral wax +taper, reciting solemnly: "Blessed be Thou, O Lord, our God, King of +the Universe, who createst the Light of the Fire." And then looking +down at the Shade made by his bent fingers, he took up the wine-cup +again, and chanted, with especial fervour, and with a renewed sense of +the sanctities and sweet tranquillities of religion: "Blessed be Thou, +O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who makest a distinction between +the Holy and the non-Holy, between Light and Darkness."</p> + +<br /> + +<div class="block2"><p>"<i>As for that night, let darkness seize upon it.</i>"—Job iii. 6.</p></div> + +<p>It was <i>Kol Nidré</i> night, the commencement of the great White Fast, +the Day of Atonement. Throughout the Jewish quarter there was an air +of subdued excitement. The synagogues had just emptied themselves and +everywhere men and women, yet under the solemn shadow of passionate +prayer, were meeting and exchanging the wish that they might weather +the fast safely. The night was dark and starless, as if Nature partook +of the universal mournfulness.</p> + +<p>Solitary, though amidst a crowd, a slight, painfully thin woman +shuffled wearily along, her feet clad in the slippers which befitted +the occasion, her head <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span>bent, her worn cheek furrowed with +still-falling tears. They were not the last dribblets of an exhausted +emotion, not the meaningless, watery expression of over-excited +sensibility. They were real, salt, bitter tears born of an intense +sorrow. The long, harassing service, with its untiring demands upon +the most exalted and the most poignant emotions, would have been a +blessing if it had dulled her capacity for anguish. But it had not. +Poor Rebecca Grinwitz was still thinking of her husband.</p> + +<p>It was of him she thought, even when the ministers, in their long +white cerements, were pouring forth their souls in passionate +vocalization, now rising to a wail, now breaking to a sob, now sinking +to a dread whisper; it was of him she thought when the weeping +worshippers, covered from head to foot in their praying-shawls, rocked +to and fro in a frenzy of grief, and battered the gates of Heaven with +fiery lyrics; it was of him she thought when she beat her breast with +her clenched fist as she made the confession of sin and clamoured for +forgiveness. Sins enough she knew she had—but <i>his</i> sin! Ah! God, +<i>his</i> sin!</p> + +<p>For Moshé had gone from bad to worse. He refused to reënter the +synagogue where he had been so roughly handled. His speech became more +and more profane. He said no more prayers; wore no more phylacteries. +Her peaceful home-life wrecked, her reliance on her husband gone, the +poor wife clung to him, still hoping on. At times she did not believe +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span>him sane. Gradually rumours of his mad behaviour on the Sabbath on +which she had fainted reached her ears, and remembering that his +strangeness had begun from the Sunday morning following that delicious +afternoon of common Psalm-saying, she was often inclined to put it all +down to mental aberration. But then his talk—so clever, if so +blasphemous; bristling with little pointed epigrams and maxims such as +she had never before heard from him or any one else. He was full of +new ideas, too, on politics and the social system and other +unpractical topics, picturing endless potentialities of wealth and +happiness for the labourer. Meantime his wages had fallen by a third, +owing to the loss of his former place, his master having been the +president of the Congregation of Love and Mercy. What wonder, +therefore, if Moshé Grinwitz intruded upon all his wife's +thoughts—devotional or worldly? In a very real sense he had become +her <i>Satan Mekatrig</i>.</p> + +<p>Up till to-night she had gone on hoping. For when the great White Fast +comes round, a mighty wave as of some subtle magnetism passes through +the world of Jews. Men and women who have not obeyed one precept of +Judaism for a whole year suddenly awake to a remembrance of the faith +in which they were born, and hasten to fast and pray, and abase +themselves before the Throne of Mercy. The long-drawn, tremulous, +stirring notes of the trumpet that ushers in the New Year, seem to +rally and gather together the dispersed of Israel from every region +of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span>the underworld of unfaith and to mass them beneath the cope of +heaven. And to-night surely the newly rooted nightshade of doubt would +wither away in her husband's bosom. Surely this one link still held +him to the religion of his fathers; and this one link would redeem him +and yet save his soul from the everlasting tortures of the damned. But +this last hope had been doomed to disappointment. Utterly unmoved by +all the olden sanctities of the Days of Judgment that initiate the New +Year, the miserable man showed no signs of remorse when the more awful +terrors of the Day of Atonement drew near—the last day of grace for +the sinner, the day on which the Divine Sentence is sealed +irrevocably. And so the wretched woman had gone to the synagogue +alone.</p> + +<p>Reaching home, she toiled up the black staircase and turned the handle +of the door. As she threw open the door she uttered a cry. She saw +nothing before her but a gigantic shadow, flickering grotesquely on +the sloping walls and the slip of ceiling. It must be her own shadow, +for other living occupant of the room she could see none. Where was +her husband? Whither had he gone? Why had he recklessly left the door +unlocked?</p> + +<p>She looked toward the table gleaming weirdly with its white +tablecloth; the tall wax <i>Yom Kippur</i> Candle, specially lit on the eve +of the solemn fast and intended to burn far on into the next day, had +all but guttered away, and the flame was quivering <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span>unsteadily under +the influence of a draught coming from the carelessly opened window. +Rebecca shivered from head to foot; a dread presentiment of evil shook +her soul. For years the Candle had burnt steadily, and her life also +had been steady and undisturbed. Alas! it needed not the omen of the +<i>Yom Kippur</i> Candle to presage woe.</p> + +<p>"May the dear God have mercy on me!" she exclaimed, bursting into +fresh tears. Hardly had she uttered the words when a monstrous black +cat, with baleful green eyes, dashed from under the table, sprang upon +the window-sill, and disappeared into the darkness, uttering a +melancholy howl. Almost frantic with terror, the poor woman dragged +herself to the window and closed it with a bang, but ere the sash had +touched the sill, something narrow and white had flashed from the room +through the gap, and the reverberations made in the silent garret by +the shock of the violently closed window were prolonged in mocking +laughter.</p> + +<p>"Well thrown, Rav Moshé!" said a grating voice. "Now that you have at +last conquered your reverence for a bit of tin and a morsel of +parchment, I will honour your mansion with my presence."</p> + +<p>Instantly Rebecca felt a wild longing to join in the merriment and to +laugh away her fears; but, muttering a potent talismanic verse, she +turned and faced her husband and his guest. Instinct had not deceived +her—the new-comer was the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span>hunchback of that fatal Sabbath. This time +she did not faint.</p> + +<p>"A strange hour and occasion to bring a visitor, Moshé," she said +sternly, her face growing even more rigid and white as she caught the +nicotian and alcoholic reek of the two men's breaths.</p> + +<p>"Your good <i>Frau</i> is not over-polite," said the visitor. "But it's +<i>Yom Kippur</i>, and so I suppose she feels she must tell the truth."</p> + +<p>"I brought him, Rivkoly, to convince thee what a fool thou wast to +assert that thou hadst seen—but <i>I</i> mustn't be impolite," he broke +off, with a coarse laugh. "There's no call for <i>me</i> to tell the truth +because it's <i>Yom Kippur</i>. Down at the Club we celebrated the occasion +by something better than truth—a jolly spread! And our good friend +here actually stood a bottle of champagne! Champagne, Rivkoly! Think +of it! Real, live champagne, like that which fizzes and sparkles on +the table of the Lord Mayor. Oh, he's a jolly good fellow! and so said +all of us, too. And yet thou sayest he isn't a fellow at all."</p> + +<p>A drunken leer overspread his sallow face, and was rendered more +ghastly by the flame leaping up from the expiring candle.</p> + +<p>"<i>Roshah</i>, sinner!" thundered the woman. Then looking straight into +the cruel eyes of the hunchback, her wan face shining with the stress +of a great emotion, her meagre form convulsed with fury, "Avaunt, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span><i>Satan Mekatrig</i>!" she screamed. "Get thee down from my house—get +thee down. In God's name, get thee down—to hell."</p> + +<p>Even the brazen-faced hunchback trembled before her passion; but he +grasped his friend's hot hand in his long, nervous fingers, and seemed +to draw courage from the contact.</p> + +<p>"If I go, I take your husband!" he hissed, his great eyes blazing in +turn. "He will leave me no more. Send me away, if you will."</p> + +<p>"Yes, thou must not send my friend away like this," hiccoughed Moshé +Grinwitz. "Come, make him welcome, like the good wife thou wast wont +to be."</p> + +<p>Rebecca uttered a terrible cry, and, cowering down on the ground, +rocked herself to and fro.</p> + +<p>The drunkard appeared moved. "Get up, Rivkoly," he said, with a +tremour in his tones. "To see thee one would think thou wast sitting +<i>Shivah</i> over my corpse." He put out his hand as if to raise her up.</p> + +<p>"Back!" she screamed, writhing from his grasp. "Touch me not; no +longer am I wife of thine."</p> + +<p>"Hear you that, man?" said the hunchback eagerly. "You are free. I am +here as a witness. Think of it; you are free."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am free," repeated Moshé, with a horrible, joyous exultation +on his sickly visage. The gigantic shadow of himself that bent over +him, cast by the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span>dying flame of the <i>Yom Kippur</i> Candle, seemed to +dance in grim triumph, his long side-curls dangling in the spectral +image like barbaric ornaments in the ears of a savage, while the +unshapely, fantastic shadow of the hunchback seemed to nod its head in +applause. Then, as the flame leaped up in an irregular jet, the +distorted shadow of the Tempter intertwined itself in a ghastly +embrace with her own. With frozen blood and stifled breath the +tortured woman turned away, and, as her eyes fell upon the +many-cracked looking-glass which adorned the mantelpiece, she saw, or +her overwrought fancy seemed to see—her husband's dead face, wreathed +with a slavering serpent in the place of the phylacteries he had +ceased to wear, and surrounded by endless perspectives of mocking +marble-browed visages, with fiery snakes for hair and live coals for +eyes.</p> + +<p>She felt her senses slipping away from her grasp, but she struggled +wildly against the heavy vapour that seemed to choke her. "Moshé!" she +shrieked, in mad, involuntary appeal for help, as she clutched the +mantel and closed her eyes to shut out the hideous vision.</p> + +<p>"I am no longer thy husband," tauntingly replied the man. "I may not +touch thee."</p> + +<p>"Hear you that, woman?" came the sardonic voice of the hunchback. "You +are free. I am here as a witness."</p> + +<p>"I am here as a witness," a thousand mocking voices seemed to hiss in +echoed sibilance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span>A terrible silence followed. At last she turned her white shrunken +face, which the contrast of the jet-black wig rendered weird and +death-like, toward the man who had been her husband, and looked long +and slowly, yearningly yet reproachfully, into his bloodshot eyes.</p> + +<p>Again a great wave of agitation shook the man from head to foot.</p> + +<p>"Don't look at me like that, Rivkoly," he almost screamed. "I won't +have it. I won't see thee. Curse that candle! Why does it flicker on +eternally and not blot thee from my sight?" He puffed violently at the +tenacious flame and a pall fell over the room. But the next instant +the light leaped up higher than ever.</p> + +<p>"Moshé!" Rebecca shrieked in wild dismay. "Dost thou forget it is <i>Kol +Nidré</i> night? How canst thou dare to blow out a light? Besides, it is +the <i>Yom Kippur</i> Candle—it is our life and happiness for the New +Year. If you blow it out, I swear, by my soul and the great Name, that +you shall never look upon my face again."</p> + +<p>"It is because I do not wish to see thy face that I will blow it out," +he replied, laughing hysterically.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she pleaded. "I will go away rather. It is nearly dead of +itself; let it die."</p> + +<p>"No! It takes too long dying; 'tis like thy father, the Rav, who had +the corpse-watchers so long in attendance that one died himself," said +Moshé <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>Grinwitz with horrible laughter. "I will kill it!" And bending +down low over the broad socket of the candlestick, so that his head +loomed gigantic on the ceiling, he silenced forever the restless +tongue of fire.</p> + +<p>Immediately a thick blackness, as of the grave, settled upon the +chamber. Hollow echoes of the blasphemer's laughter rang and resounded +on every side. Myriads of dreadful faces shaped themselves out of the +gloom, and mowed and gibbered at the woman. At the window, the green, +baleful eyes of the black cat glared with phosphorescent light. A +wreath of fiery serpents twisted themselves in fiendish contortions, +shedding lurid radiance upon the cruel marble brow they garlanded. An +unspeakable Eeriness, an unnameable Unholiness, floated with +far-sweeping, rustling pinions through the Darkness.</p> + +<p>With stifling throat that strove in vain to shriek, the woman dashed +out through the well-known door, fled wildly down the stairs, pursued +at every step by the sardonic merriment, met at every corner by the +gibbering shapes—fled on, dashing through the heavy, ever-open street +door into the fresher air of the night—on, instinctively on, through +the almost deserted streets and alleys, where only the vile gin-houses +gleamed with life—on, without pause or rest, till she fell exhausted +upon the dusty door-step of the Synagogue of Love and Mercy.</p> + +<br /> + +<div class="block2"><p>"<i>All Israel have a portion in the world to come.</i>"—Ethics of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span> +the Fathers.</p></div> + +<p>The aged keeper of the synagogue rushed out at the noise.</p> + +<p>"Save me! For God's sake, save me, Reb Yitzchok!" cried the fallen +figure. "Save me from the <i>Satan Mekatrig</i>! I have no home—no +husband—any more! Take me in!"</p> + +<p>"Take you in?" said Reb Yitzchok pityingly, for he dimly guessed +something of her story. "Where can I take you in? You know my wife and +I are allowed but one tiny room here."</p> + +<p>"Take me in!" repeated the woman. "I will pass the night in the +synagogue. I must pray for my husband's soul, for he has no son to +pray for him. Let me come in! Save me from the <i>Satan Mekatrig</i>!"</p> + +<p>"You would certainly meet many a <i>Satan Mekatrig</i> in the streets +during the night," said the old man musingly. "But have you no friends +to go to?"</p> + +<p>"None—none—but God! Let me in that I may go to Him. Give me shelter, +and He will have mercy on you when the great <i>Tekiah</i> sounds to-morrow +night!"</p> + +<p>Without another word Reb Yitzchok went into his room, returned with +the key, and threw open the door of the women's synagogue, revealing a +dazzling flood of light from the numerous candles, big and little, +which had been left burning in their sconces. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span>The low curtain that +served as a partition had been half rolled back by devoted husbands +who had come to inquire after their wives at the end of the service, +and the synagogue looked unusually large and bright, though it was hot +and close, with lingering odours of breaths, and snuff, and tallow, +and smelling-salts.</p> + +<p>With a sob of infinite thankfulness Rebecca dropped upon a wooden +bench.</p> + +<p>"Would you like a blanket?" said the old man.</p> + +<p>"No, no, God bless you!" she replied. "I must watch and weep, not +sleep. For the Scroll of Judgment is written and the Book of Life is +all but closed."</p> + +<p>With a pitying sigh the old man turned and left her alone for the +night in the Synagogue of Love and Mercy.</p> + +<p>For a few moments Rebecca sat, prayerless, her soul full of a strange +peace. Then she found herself counting the chimes as they rolled out +sonorously from a neighbouring steeple: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, +Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, <span class="sc">Twelve</span>!</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<p>Starting up suddenly when the last stroke ceased to vibrate on the +air, Rebecca Grinwitz found, to her surprise, that a merciful sleep +must have overtaken her eyelids, that hours must have passed since +midnight had struck, and that the great Day of Atonement must have +dawned. Both <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span>compartments of the synagogue were full of the restless +stir of a praying multitude. With a sense of something vaguely +strange, she bent her eyes downward on her neighbour's <i>Machzor</i>. The +woman immediately pushed the prayer-book more toward Rebecca, with a +wonderful smile of love and tenderness, which seemed to go right +through Rebecca's heart, though she could not clearly remember ever +having seen her neighbour before. Nor, wonderingly stealing a first +glance around, could she help feeling that the entire congregation was +somewhat strange and unfamiliar, though she could not quite think why +or how. The male worshippers, too, why did they all wear the +shroud-like garments, usually confined on this solemn occasion to the +ministers and a few extra-devout personages? And had not some +transformation come over the synagogue? Was it only the haze before +her tear-worn eyes or did dim perspectives of worshippers stretch away +boundlessly on all sides of the clearly seen area, which still +retained the form of the room she knew so well?</p> + +<p>But the curious undercurrent of undefined wonder lasted but a moment. +In another instant she was reconciled to the scene. All was familiar +and expected; once more she was taking part in divine service with no +sorrowful thoughts of her husband coming to distract her, her whole +soul bathing in and absorbing the Peace of God which passeth all +understanding. Then suddenly she felt a stir of recollection <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span>coming +over her, and a stream of love warming her heart, and looking up at +her neighbour's face she saw with joyous content that it was that of +her mother.</p> + +<p>The service went on, mother and daughter following it in the book they +had in common. After several hours, during which the huge, +far-spreading congregation alternated with the Cantor in intoning the +beautiful poems of the liturgy of the day, the white curtain with its +mystic cabalistic insignia was rolled back from the Ark of the +Covenant and two Scrolls were withdrawn therefrom. Rebecca noted with +joy that the Ark was filled with Scrolls big and little, in rich +mantles, and that those taken out were swathed in satin beautifully +embroidered, and that the ornaments and the musically tinkling bells +were of pure gold.</p> + +<p>Then some of the worshippers were called up in turn to the <i>Al Memor</i> +to be present at the reading of a section of the Law. They were all +well known to Rebecca. First came Moses ben Amram. He walked humbly up +to the <i>Al Memor</i> with bowed head, his long <i>Talith</i> enveloping him +from crown to foot. Rebecca saw his face well, for though it was +covered with a thick veil, it shone luminously through its draping.</p> + +<p>"Bless ye the Lord, who is blessed," said Moses ben Amram, the words +seeming all the sweeter from his lips for the slight stammering with +which they were uttered.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span>"Blessed be the Lord, who is blessed to all eternity and beyond," +responded the endless congregation, in a low murmur that seemed to be +taken up and vibrated away and away into the infinite distances for +ever and ever.</p> + +<p>"Blessed be the Lord, who is blessed to all eternity and beyond," +echoed the melodious voice. Then, in words that seemed to roll and +fill the great gulfs of space with a choral music of sacred joy, Moses +continued, "Blessed be Thou, O Lord, our God, the King of the +Universe, who hath chosen us from all peoples, and given unto us His +Law. Blessed art Thou, O Lord, who givest the Law."</p> + +<p>After him came Aaron ben Amram, whose white beard reached to his +knees. Abraham ben Terah, Isaac ben Abraham, and Jacob ben Isaac—all +venerable figures, with faces which Rebecca felt were radiant with +infinite tenderness and compassion for such poor helpless children as +herself—were also called up, and after the Patriarchs, Elijah the +Prophet. Lastly came a white-haired, stooping figure, whose gait and +whose every gesture told Rebecca that it was her father. How glad she +felt to see him thus honoured! As she listened to his quavering tones +the dusty tombstones of dead years seemed rolled away, and all their +simple joys and griefs to live again, not quite as of yore, but +transfigured by some solemn pathos.</p> + +<p>When the reading of the Law was at an end, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span>David ben Jesse, a +royal-looking graybeard, held up the Scroll to the four corners of +space, and it was rolled up by his son Solomon, the Preacher; the +carrying of it to the Ark being given to Rabbi Akiba, whose features +wore a strange, ecstatic look, as though ennobled by suffering. The +vast multitude rose with a great rustling, the sound whereof reached +afar, and sang a hymn of rejoicing, so that the whole universe was +filled with melody. Rebecca alone could not sing. For the first time +she missed her husband, Moshé. Why was he not here, like all the other +friends of her life, whose beloved faces surrounded her on every side +and made a sweet atmosphere of security for her soul? What was he +doing outside of this mighty assembly? Why was he not there to have +the sacred duty of carrying the Scroll entrusted to him? She felt the +tears pouring down her cheeks. She was ready to sink to the earth with +sudden lassitude. "Mother! dear mother!" she cried, "I feel so faint."</p> + +<p>"You must have some air, my child, my Rivkoly," said the mother, the +dearly remembered voice falling for the first time with ineffable +sweetness on Rebecca's ears. And she put out her hand, and lo! it grew +longer and longer, till it reached up to the skylight, and then +suddenly the whole roof vanished and the free air of heaven blew in +like celestial balm upon Rebecca's hot forehead. Yet she noted with +wonder that the holy candles burnt on steadily, unfluttered <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>by the +refreshing breeze. And then, lo! the starless heavens above her opened +out in indescribable Glory. The Dark budded into ineffable Beauty; a +supernally pure, luminous Splendour, transcendently dazzling, filled +the infinite depths of the Firmament with melodious coruscations of +Infinite Love made visible, and white-winged hosts of radiant Cherubim +sang "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts, the whole earth is full +of His Glory." And all the vast congregation fell upon their faces and +cried "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts, the whole earth is full +of His Glory." And Moses ben Amram arose, and he lifted his hands +toward the Splendour and he cried, "Lord, Lord God, merciful and +gracious, long-suffering and full of kindness and truth. Lo, Thou +sealest the seals before the twilight. Seal Thy People, I pray Thee, +in the Book of Life, though Thou blot me out. Forgive them, and pardon +their transgressions for the sake of the merits of the Patriarchs and +for the sake of the merits of the Martyrs, who have shed their blood +like water and offered their flesh to the flames for the +Sanctification of the Name. Forgive them, and blot out their +transgressions."</p> + +<p>And all the congregation said "Amen."</p> + +<p>Then a surging wave of hope rose within Rebecca's breast, and it +lifted her to her feet and stretched out her arms toward the +Splendour. And she said: "Lord God, forgive Thou my husband, for he is +in the hand of the Tempter. Save him from the power <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span>of the Evil One +by Thine outstretched arm and Thy mighty hand. Save him and pardon +him, Lord, in Thine infinite mercy." Then a strange, dread, anxious +silence fell upon the vast spaces of the Firmament, till from the +heart of the Celestial Splendour there fell a Word that floated +through the Universe like the sweet blended strains of all sweet +instruments, a Word that mingled all the harmonies of winds and waters +and mortal and angelic voices into one divine cadence—<i>Salachti</i>.</p> + +<p>And with the sweet Word of Forgiveness lingering musically in her +charmed ears, and the sweet assurance at her heart that she, the poor, +miserable tailor's wife, despised and trodden under foot by the rich +and by the heathen around, could lean upon the breast of an Almighty +Father, who had prepared for her immortal glories and raptures amid +all her loved ones in a world where He would wipe the tears from off +all eyes, Rebecca Grinwitz awoke to find the bright morning sunshine +streaming in upon her and the fresh morning air blowing in upon her +fevered brow from the skylight which Reb Yitzchok had just opened.</p> + +<br /> + +<div class="block2"><p>"<i>Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the +fowler.</i>"—Psalm xci. 3.</p></div> + +<p>A shroud of newly fallen snow enveloped the dead earth, over which the +dull, murky sky looked drearily down. Within his fireless garret, +which was almost <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span>empty of furniture, Moshé Grinwitz lay, wasted away +to a shadow. His beard was unkempt, his cheek-bones were almost +fleshless, his feverish eyes large and staring, his side-curls tangled +and untended. There did not seem enough strength left in the frame to +resist a babe; yet, when he coughed, the whole skeleton was agitated +as though with galvanic energy.</p> + +<p>"Will he never come back?" he murmured uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Fear not; so far as lies in my power, I shall be with you always," +replied the voice of the hunchback as he entered the room. "But, alas! +I have little comfort to bring you. One pawnbroker after another +refused to advance anything on my waistcoat, and at last I sold it +right out for a few pence. See; here is some milk. It is warm."</p> + +<p>Moshé tried to clutch the jug, but fell back, helpless. A shade of +anxiety passed over his companion's face. "Have I miscalculated?" he +muttered. He held the jug to the sick man's lips, supporting his head +with the other. Moshé drank, then fell back, and pressed his friend's +hand gratefully.</p> + +<p>"Poor Moshé," said the hunchback. "What a shame I tossed into the +gutter the gold my father left me seven months ago! How could I +foresee you would be struck down with this long sickness?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, don't regret it," quavered Moshé, his white face lighting up. +"We had jolly old times, jolly old <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span>times, while the money lasted. Oh, +you've been a good friend to me—a good friend. If I had never known +you, I should have passed away into nothingness, without ever having +known the mad joys of wine and riot. I have had wild, voluptuous +moments of revelry and mirth. No power in heaven or hell can take away +the past. And then the sweet freedom of doing as you will, thinking as +you will, flying with wings unclogged by superstition—to you I owe it +all! And since I have been ill you have watched over me like—like a +woman."</p> + +<p>His words died away in a sob, and then there was silence, except when +his cough sounded strange and hollow in the bare room. Presently he +went on:—</p> + +<p>"How unjust Rivkoly was to you! She once said"—here the speaker +laughed a little melancholy laugh—"that you were the <i>Satan Mekatrig</i> +in person."</p> + +<p>"Poor afflicted woman!" said his friend, with pitying scorn. "In this +nineteenth century, when among the wise the belief in the gods has +died out, there are yet fools alive who believe in the devil. But she +could only have meant it metaphorically."</p> + +<p>The sick man shook his head. "She said the evil influence—of course, +it seemed evil to her—you wielded over her thoughts, and I suppose +mine, too, was more than human—was supernatural."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't say I'm not more strong-minded than most people. Of +course I am, or I should be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span>howling hymns at the present moment. But +why does a soldier catch fire under the eye of his captain? What +magnetism enables one man to bewitch a nation? Why does one friend's +unspoken thought find unuttered echo in another's? Go to Science, +study Mesmerism, Hypnotism, Thought-Transference, and you will learn +all about Me and my influence."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Rivkoly never had any idea of anything outside her prayer-book. +Rivkoly—"</p> + +<p>"Mention not her name to me," interrupted the hunchback harshly. "A +woman who deserts her husband—"</p> + +<p>"She swore to go if I blew out the <i>Yom Kippur</i> light. And I did."</p> + +<p>"A woman who goes out of her wits because her husband gets into his!" +sneered the other. "Doubtless her superstitious fancy conjured up all +sorts of sights in the dark. Ho! ho! ho!" and he laughed a ghastly +laugh. "Happily she will never come back. She's evidently able to get +along without you. Probably she has another husband more to her pious +taste."</p> + +<p>Moshé raised himself convulsively. "Don't say that again!" he +screamed. "<i>My</i> Rivkoly!" Then a violent cough shook him and his white +lips were reddened with blood.</p> + +<p>The cold eyes of the hunchback glittered strangely as he saw the +blood. "At any rate," he said, more gently, "she cannot break the +mighty oath she sware. She will never come back."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span>"No, she will never come back," the sick man groaned hopelessly. "But +it was cruel of me to drive her away. Would to G—"</p> + +<p>The hunchback hastily put his hand on the speaker's mouth, and +tenderly wiped away the blood. "When I am better," said Moshé, with +sudden resolution, "I will seek her out: perhaps she is starving."</p> + +<p>"As you will. You know she can always earn her bread and water at the +cap-making. But you are your own master. When you are rid of this +sickness—which will be soon—you shall go and seek her out and bring +her to abide with you." The words rang sardonically through the +chamber.</p> + +<p>"How good you are!" Moshé murmured, as he sank back relieved.</p> + +<p>The hunchback leaned over the bed till his gigantic brow almost +touched the sick man's, till his wonderful eyes lay almost on his. +"And yet you will not let me hasten on your recovery in the way I +proposed to you."</p> + +<p>"No, no," Moshé said, trembling all over. "What matters if I lie here +a week more or less?"</p> + +<p>"Lie here!" hissed his friend. "In a week you will lie rotting."</p> + +<p>A wild cry broke from the blood-bespattered lips! "I am not dying! I +am not dying! You said just now I should be better soon."</p> + +<p>"So you will; so you will. But only if we have money. Our last +farthing, our last means of raising <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span>a farthing, is gone. Without +proper food, without a spark of fire, how can you hold out a week in +this bitter weather? No, unless you would pass from the light and the +gladness of life to the gloom and the shadow of the tomb, you must be +instantly baptized."</p> + +<p>"<i>Shmad</i> myself! Never!" said the sick man, the very word conjuring up +an intolerable loathing, deeper than reason; and then another violent +fit of coughing shook him.</p> + +<p>"See how this freezing atmosphere tells on you. You must take +Christian gold, I tell you. Thus only shall I be able to get you +fire—to get you fire," repeated the hunchback with horrible emphasis. +"You call yourself a disbeliever. If so, what matters? Why should you +die for a miserable prejudice? But you are no true infidel. So long as +you shrink from professing any religion under the sun, you still +possess a religion. Your unfaith is but foam-drift on the deep sea of +faith; but lip-babble while your heart is still infected with +superstition. Come, bid me fetch the priest with his crucifix and holy +water. Let us fool him to the top of his bent. Rouse yourself; be a +man and live."</p> + +<p>"No, no, brother! I will be a man and die."</p> + +<p>"Fool!" hissed the hunchback. "It fits not one who has lived for +months by Christian gold to be so nice."</p> + +<p>"You lie!" Moshé gasped.</p> + +<p>"The seven months that you and I have known <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span>each other, it is +Christian gold that has warmed you and fed you and rejoiced you, and +that, melted down, has flowed in your veins as wine. Whence, then, +took I the money for our riotings?"</p> + +<p>"From your father, you said."</p> + +<p>"Yes, from my spiritual father," was the grim reply. "No, having that +belief, which <i>you</i> still lack, in the hollowness and mockery of all +save pleasure, I became a Christian. For a time they paid me well, but +as soon as I had been put on the annual report I had served my purpose +and the supplies fell off. I could be converted again in another town +or country, but I dare not leave you. But you are a new man, and +should I drag you into the fold they will reward us both well. Instead +of subsisting on dry bread and milk you will fare on champagne and +turtle-soup once more."</p> + +<p>Moshé sat up and gazed wildly one long second at the Tempter. He +looked at his own fleshless arms, and shuddered. He felt the icy hand +of Death upon him. He knew himself a young man still. Must he go down +into the eternal darkness, and be folded in the freezing clasp of the +King of Terrors, while the warm bosom of Life offered itself to his +embrace? No; give him Life, Life, Life, polluted and stained with +hypocrisy, but still Life, delicious Life.</p> + +<p>The steely eyes of the hunchback watched the contest anxiously. +Suddenly a change came over <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span>the wildly working face—it fell back +chill and rigid on the pillow, the eyes closed. The room seemed to +fill with an impalpable, brooding Vapour, as if a thick fog were +falling outside. The watcher caught madly at his friend's wrist and +sought to detect a pulsation. His eyes glowed with horrible exultant +relief.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, not yet, Brother Azrael," he said mockingly, as if +addressing the impalpable Vapour; "Thou who art wholly woven of Eyes, +canst Thou not see that it is not yet time to throw the fatal pellet +into his throat? Back, back!"</p> + +<p>The Vapour thickened. The minutes passed. The hunchback peered +expectant at the corpse-like face on the dingy pillow. At last the +eyes opened, but in them shone a strange, rapt expression.</p> + +<p>"Thank God, Rivkoly!" the dying lips muttered. "I knew thou wouldst +come."</p> + +<p>As he spoke there was a frantic beating at the door. The hunchback's +face was convulsed.</p> + +<p>"Hasten, hasten, Brother Azrael!" he cried.</p> + +<p>The Vapour lightened a little. Moshé Grinwitz seemed to rally. His +face glowed with eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Open the door! open the door!" he cried. "It's Rivkoly—my Rivkoly!"</p> + +<p>The vain battering at the door grew fiercer, but none noted it in the +house. Since the shadow of the hunchback had first fallen within that +thickly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span>crowded human nest, the doves had become hawks, the hawks +vultures. All was discord and bickering.</p> + +<p>"Lie still," said the hunchback; "'tis but your fevered imagination. +Drink."</p> + +<p>He put the jug to the dying man's lips, but it was dashed violently +from his hand and shattered into a hundred pieces.</p> + +<p>"Give me nothing bought with Christian money!" gasped Moshé hoarsely, +his breath rattling painfully in his throat. "Never will I knowingly +gain by the denial of the Unity of God."</p> + +<p>"Then die like a dog!" roared the hunchback. "Hasten, Brother Azrael!"</p> + +<p>The Vapour folded itself thickly about the room. The rickety door was +shaken frantically, as by a great gale.</p> + +<p>"Moshé! Moshé!" shrieked a voice. "Let me in—me—thy Rivkoly! In +God's name, let me in! I bring thee a precious gift. Or art thou dead, +dead, dead? My God, why didst Thou not cause me to know he was ill +before!"</p> + +<p>"Your husband is dying," said the hunchback. "When he is dead, you +shall look upon his face. But he may not look upon your face again. +You have sworn it."</p> + +<p>"Devil!" cried the fierce voice of the woman. "I swore it on <i>Kol +Nidré</i> night, when I had just asked the Almighty to absolve me from +all rash oaths. Let me in, I tell you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span>"I will not have a sacred oath treated thus lightly," said the +hunchback savagely. "I will keep your soul from sin."</p> + +<p>"Cursed be thou to eternity of eternities!" replied the woman. "Pray, +Moshé, pray for thy soul. Pray, for thou art dying."</p> + +<p>"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one," rose the sonorous +Hebrew.</p> + +<p>"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one," wailed the woman. +The very Vapour seemed to cling round and prolong the vibrations of +the sacred words. Only the hunchback was silent. The mocking words +died on his lips, and as the woman, with one last mighty blow, dashed +in through the flying door, he seemed to glide past her and melt into +the darkness of the staircase.</p> + +<p>Rivkoly heeded not his contorted, malignant visage, crowned with its +serpentine wreath of fiery hair; she flew straight through the heavy +Vapour, stooped and kissed the livid mouth, read in a moment the +decree of Death in the eyes, and then put something small and warm +into her husband's fast chilling arms.</p> + +<p>"Take it, Moshé," she cried, "and comfort thy soul in death. 'Tis thy +child, for God has at last sent us a son. <i>Yom Kippur</i> night—now six +long months ago—I had a dream that God would forgive thee, and I was +glad. But when I thought <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span>to go home to thee in the evening, I learnt +that thou hadst been feasting all that dread Day of Atonement with the +<i>Satan Mekatrig</i>; and my heart fell, for I knew that my dream was but +the vain longing of my breast, and that through thine own misguided +soul thou couldst never be saved from the eternal vengeance. Then I +went away, far from here, and toiled and lived hard and lone; and I +believed not in my dream. But I prayed and prayed for thy soul, and +lo! very soon I was answered; for I knew we should have a child. And +then I entreated that it should be a son, to pray for thee, and +perhaps win thee back to God, and to say the <i>Kaddish</i> after thee when +thou shouldst come to die, though I knew not that thy death was at +hand; and a few weeks back the Almighty was gracious and merciful to +me, and I had my wish."</p> + +<p>She ceased, her wan face radiant. The Shadow of Death could not chill +her sublime faith, her simple, trustful hope. The husband was clasping +the feebly whimpering babe to his frozen breast, and showering +passionate kisses on its unconscious form.</p> + +<p>"Rivkoly!" he whispered, as the tears rolled down his cheeks, "how +pale and thin thou art grown! O God, my sin has been heavy!"</p> + +<p>"No, no," she cried, her loving hand in his. "It was the <i>Satan +Mekatrig</i> that led thee astray. I am well and strong. I will work for +our child, and train <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span>it up to pray for thee and to love thee. I have +named it Jacob, for it shall wrestle with the Recording Angel and +shall prevail."</p> + +<p>The hue of death deepened on Moshé Grinwitz's face, but it was +overspread by a divine calm.</p> + +<p>"Ah, the good old times we had at the <i>Cheder</i> in Poland," he said. +"The rabbi was sometimes cross, but we children were always in good +spirits; and when the Rejoicing of the Law came round it was such fun +carrying the candles stuck in hollowed apples, and gnawing at your +candlestick as you walked. I always loved <i>Simchath Torah</i>, Rivkoly. +How long is it to the Rejoicing?"</p> + +<p>"It will soon be here again, now Passover is over," she said, pressing +his hand.</p> + +<p>"Is <i>Pesach</i> over?" he said mournfully. "I don't remember giving +<i>Seder</i>. Why didst thou not remind me, Rivkoly? It was so wrong of +thee. Thou knowest how I loved the sight of the table—the angels +always seemed to hover about it. <i>Chad Gadyah! Chad Gadyah!</i>" he +commenced to sing in a cracked, hoarse whisper. The child burst into a +wail. "Hush, hush, Yaankely," said the mother, taking it to her +breast.</p> + +<p>"A—a—ah!" A wild scream rose from Moshé Grinwitz's lips. "My +<i>Kaddish</i>! Take not away my <i>Kaddish</i>!" He sat up, with clammy, +ghastly brow, and glared with sightless eyes, his arms groping. A thin +stream of blood oozed from his mouth.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span>"Hear, O Israel!" screamed the woman, as she put her hand to his mouth +to stanch the blood.</p> + +<p>He beat her back wildly. "Not thee! I want not thee! My <i>Kaddish</i>!" +came the mad, hoarse whisper. "I have blasphemed God! Give me my +<i>Kaddish</i>! give me my <i>Kaddish</i>!"</p> + +<p>She put the child into his arms, and he clutched it in his dying +frenzy. As he felt its feeble form, the old divine peace came over his +face. The babe's cries were hushed in fear. The mother was dumb and +stony. And silently the Vapour crawled in sluggish folds through the +heavy air.</p> + +<p>But in a moment the silence was broken by a deep, stertorous rattle. +Moshé Grinwitz's head fell back; his arms relaxed their hold of his +child, which was caught with a wild cry to its mother's bosom. And the +dark Vapour lifted, and showed the three figures to the baleful, +agonized eyes of the hunchback at the open door.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span><br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>IX</h2> + +<h2>DIARY OF A MESHUMAD</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<a name="IX" id="IX"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>IX<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>DIARY OF A MESHUMAD<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h3> +<br /> + +<p><i>Tchemnovosk, Saturday (midnight).</i>—So! The first words have been +written. For the first time in my life I have commenced a diary. Will +it prove the solace I have heard it is? Shall I find these now cold, +blank pages growing more and more familiar, till I shall turn to them +as to a sympathetic friend; till this little book shall become that +loved and trusted confidant for whom my lonely soul longs? Instead of +either Black or White Clergy, this record in black and white shall be +my father confessor. Our village pope, to whom I have so often +confessed everything but the truth, would be indeed shocked, if he +could gossip with this, his new-created brother. What a heap of +roubles it would take to tranquillize him! Ah, God! <i>Ach</i>, God of +Israel! how is it possible that a man who has known the tenderest +human ties should be so friendless, so solitary in his closing years, +that not even in memory can he commune with a fellow-soul? Verily, the +old curse has <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span>wrought itself out, that penalty of apostasy which came +to my mind the other day after nearly forty years of forgetfulness, +that curse which has filled my spirit with shuddering awe, and driven +me to seek daily communion through thee, little book, even with my own +self of yesterday—"<i>And that soul shall be cut off from among its +people.</i>" Yea, and from all others, too! For so many days and years +Caterina was my constant companion; I loved her as my own soul. Yet +was she but a sun that dazzled my eyes so that I could not gaze upon +my own soul; but a veil between me and my dead youth. The sun has sunk +forever below the horizon; the veil is rent. No phantom from the other +world hovers to remind me of our happiness. Those years, with all +their raptures and successes, are a dull blank. It is the years of +boyhood and youth which resurge in my consciousness; their tints are +vivid, their tones are clear.</p> + +<p>Why is this? Is it Caterina's death? Is it old age? Is it returning to +these village scenes after half a lifetime spent in towns? Is it the +sight of the <i>izbas</i>, and their torpid, tow-haired, sheepskin-clad +inhabitants, and the great slushy cabbage gardens, that has rekindled +the ashen past into colours of flame? And yet, except our +vodka-seller, there isn't a Jew in the place. However it be, +Caterina's face is filmy, phantasmal, compared with my mother's. And +mother died forty years <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span>ago; the grass of two short years grows over +my wife's grave. And Paul? He is living—he kissed me but a few +moments back. Yet <i>his</i> face is far-away—elusive. The hues of life +are on my father's—poor, ignorant, narrow-minded, warm-hearted +father, whose heart I broke. Happily I have not to bear the +remembrance of his dying look, but can picture him as I saw him in +those miserable, happy days. My father's kiss is warm upon the lips +which my son's has just left cold. Poor St. Paul, living up there with +your ideals and your theories like a dove in a balloon! And yet, +<i>golubtchik</i>, how I love you, my handsome, gifted boy, fighting the +battle of life so pluckily and well! Ah! it is hard fighting when one +is hampered by a conscience. Is it your fault that the cold iron bar +of a secret lies between our souls; that a bar my own hands have +forged, and which I have not the courage or the strength to break, +keeps you from my inmost heart, and makes us strangers? No; you are +the best of sons, and love me truly. But if your eyes were purged, and +you could see the ugly, hateful thing, and through and beyond it, into +my ugly, hateful soul! Ah, no! That must never be. Your affection, +your reverential affection, is the only sacred and precious thing yet +left to me on earth. If I lost that, if my spirit were cut off even +from the semblance of human sympathy, then might the grave close over +my body, as it would have already <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span>closed over my soul. And yet should +I have the courage to die? Yes; for then Paul would know; Paul would +obey my wishes and see me buried among my people. Paul would hire +mourners (God! hired mourners, when I have a son!) to say the +<i>Kaddish</i>. Paul would do his duty, though his heart broke. Terrible, +ominous words! Break my son's heart as I did my father's! The +saints—<i>voi!</i> I mean God—forfend! And for opposite reasons. <i>Ach</i>, +it is a strange world. Is religion, then, a curse, eternally dividing +man from man? No, I will not think these blasphemous thoughts. My +poor, brave Paul!</p> + +<p>To-morrow will be a hard day.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday Night.</i>—I have just read over my last entry. How cold, how +tame the words seem, compared with the tempest with which I am shaken. +And yet it <i>is</i> a relief to have uttered them; to have given vent to +my passion and pain. Already this scrawl of mine has become sacred to +me; already this study in which I write has become a sanctuary to +which my soul turns with longing. All day long my diary was in my +thoughts. All my turbulent emotions were softened by the knowledge +that I should come here and survey them with calm; by the hope that +the tranquil reflectiveness which writing induces would lead me into +some haven of rest. And first let me confess that I am glad Paul goes +back to St. Petersburg on Tuesday. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span>It is a comfort to have him here +for a few days, and yet, oh, how I dread to meet his clear gaze! How +irksome this close contact, with the rough rubs it gives to all my +sore places! How I abhorred myself to-day as I went through the +ghastly mimicries of prayer, and crossing myself, and genuflexion, in +our little church. How I hate the sight of its sky-blue dome and its +gilt minarets! When the pope brought me the Gospel to kiss, fiery +shame coursed through my veins. And then when I saw the look of humble +reverence on Paul's face as he pressed his lips to the silver-bound +volume, my blood was frozen to ice. Strange, dead memories seemed to +float about the incense-laden air; shadowy scenes; old, far-away +cadences. And when the deacon walked past me with his <i>bougie</i>, there +seemed to flash upon me some childish recollection of a joyous +candle-bearing procession, whereat my eyes grew filled with sudden +tears. The marble altar, the silver candlesticks, the glittering +jewelled scene faded into mist. And then the choir sang, and under the +music I grew calm again. After all, religions were made for men. And +this one was just fitted for the simple muzhiks who dotted the benches +with their stupid, good natured figures. They must have their +gold-bedecked gods in painting and image; and their saints in gold +brocade to kneel before at all hours to solace themselves with visions +of a brocaded Paradise.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span>And yet what had I to do with these childish superstitions?—I whose +race preached the great doctrine of the Unity to a world sunk in vice +and superstition; whose childish lips were taught to utter the +<i>Shemang</i> as soon as they could form the syllables; who <i>know</i> that +the Christian creed is a monstrous delusion! To think that I have lent +the sanction of my manhood to these grotesque beliefs. Grotesque, say +I? when to Paul they are the essence of all lofty feeling and +aspiration! And yet I know that he is blind, or sees things with that +strange perversion of vision of which I have heard him accuse the +Jews—my brethren. He believes what he has been taught. And who taught +him? <i>Bozhe moi!</i> was it not I who have brought him up in these +degrading beliefs, which he imagines I share? God! is this my +punishment, that he is faithful to the creed taught him by a father +who was faithless to his own? And yet there were excuses enough for +me, Thou knowest. Why did these forms and ceremonies, which now loom +beautiful to me through a mist of tears, seem hideous chains on the +free limbs of childhood? Was it my father's fault or my own that the +stereotyped routine of the day; that the being dragged out of bed in +the gray dawn to go to synagogue, or to intone in monotonous sing-song +the weary casuistries of the rabbis; that the endless precepts or +prohibitions, made me conceive religion as the most hateful of +tyrannies? Through the cloud of forty years I can but dimly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span>recall +the violence of the repulsion with which things Jewish inspired me—of +how it galled me to feel that I was one of that detested race, that I +was that mockery and byword, a <i>Zhit</i>; that, with little sympathy with +my people, I was yet destined to partake of its burdens and its +disabilities. Bitter as my soul is within me to-day, I can yet +understand, can yet half excuse, that fatal mistake of ignorant and +ambitious youth.</p> + +<p>It were easy for me now to acknowledge myself a Jew, even with the +risk of Siberia before me. I am rich, I have some of the education for +which I longed, above all, I have <i>lived</i>. Ah, how differently the +world, with its hopes and its fears, and its praise and censure, looks +to the youth who is climbing slowly up the hill, and the man who is +swiftly descending to the valley! But the knowledge of the vanity of +all things comes too late; this, too, is vanity. Enough that I +sacrificed the sincerity and reality of life for unrealities, which +then seemed to me the only things worth having. There was none to +counsel, and none to listen. I fled my home; I was baptized into the +Church. At once all that hampered me was washed away. Before me +stretched the free, open road of culture and well-being. I was no +longer the slave of wanton laws, the laughing-stock of every Muscovite +infant, liable to be kicked and cuffed and spat at by every true +Russian. What mattered a lip-profession of Christianity, when I cared +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span>as little for Judaism as for it? I never looked back; my prior life +faded quickly from my memory. Alone I fought the battle of +life—alone, unaided by man or hope in God. A few lucky speculations +on the Bourse, starting from the risking of the few kopecks amassed by +tuition, rescued me from the need of pursuing my law-studies. I fell +in love and married. Caterina, your lovely face came effectively +between me and what vague visions of my past, what dim uneasiness of +remorse, yet haunted me. You never knew—your family never knew—that +I was not a Slav to the backbone. The new life lay fold on fold over +the old; the primitive writing of the palimpsest was so thickly +written over, that no thought of what I had once been troubled me +during all those years of wedded life, made happier by your birth and +growth, my Paul, my darling Paul; no voice came from those forgotten +shores, save once, when—who knows through what impalpable medium?—I +learnt or divined my father's death, and all the air was filled with +hollow echoes of reproach. During those years I avoided contact with +Jews as much as I could; when it was inevitable, I made the contact +brief. The thought of the men, of their gabardines and their pious +ringlets, of their studious dronings and their devout quiverings and +wailings, of the women with their coarse figures and their unsightly +wigs; the remembrance of their vulgar dialect, and their shuffling +ways, and their accommodating morality, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span>filled me with repulsion. As +if to justify myself to myself, my mind conceived of them only in +their meanest and tawdriest aspects. The black points alone caught my +eye, and linked themselves into a perfect-seeming picture.</p> + +<p><i>Da</i>, I have been a good Russian, a good Christian. I have not stirred +my little finger to help the Jews in their many and grievous +afflictions. They were nothing to me. Over the vodka and the champagne +I have joined in the laugh against them, without even feeling I was of +them. Why, then, these strange sympathies that agitate me now; these +feelings, shadowy, but strong and resistless as the shadow of death? +Am I sane, or is this but incipient madness? Am I sinking into a +literal second childhood, in which all the terrors and the sanctities +that once froze or stirred my soul have come to possess me once more? +Am I dying? I have heard that the scene of half a century ago may be +more vivid to dying eyes than the chamber of death itself. Has +Caterina's death left a blank which these primitive beloved memories +rush in to fill up? Was it the light of her face that blinded me to +the dear homely faces of my father and mother? If I had not met her, +how would things have been? Should I have repented earlier of my +hollow existence? Was it the genuineness of her faith in her heathen +creed that made me acquiesce in its daily profession and its dominance +in our household life? <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span>And are the old currents flowing so strongly +now, only because they were so long artificially dammed up? Of what +avail to ask myself these questions? I asked them yesterday and I +shall be no wiser to-morrow. No man can analyze his own emotions, +least of all I, unskilled to sound the depths of my soul, content if +the surface be unruffled. Perhaps, after all, it is Paul who is the +cause of the troubling of the waters, which yet I am glad have not +been left in their putrid stagnation. For since Caterina's clay-cold +form was laid in the Moscow churchyard, and Paul and I have been +brought the nearer together for the void, my son has opened my eyes to +my baseness. The light that radiates from his own terrible nobleness +has shown me how black and polluted a soul is mine. My whole life has +been shuffled through under false colours. Even if I shared few of the +Jew's beliefs, it should have been my duty—and my proud duty—to +proclaim myself of the race. If, as I fondly believed, I was superior +to my people, then it behoved me to allow that superiority to be +counted to their credit and to the honour of the Jewish flag. My poor +brethren, sore indeed has been your travail, and your cry of pain +pierces the centuries. Perhaps—who knows?—I could have helped a +little if I had been faithful, as faithful as Paul will be to his own +ideals. Ah, if Paul had been a Jew—! My God! <i>is</i> Paul a Jew? Have I +upon my shoulders the guilt of this loss to Judaism, too?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span>Analyze myself, reproach myself, doubt my own sanity how I may, one +thing is clear. From the bottom of my heart I long, I yearn, I burn to +return to the religion of my childhood. I long to say and to sing the +Hebrew words that come scantily and with effort to my lips. I long to +join my brethren at prayer, to sit with them in the synagogue, in the +study, at the table; to join them in their worship and at their meals; +to share with them their joys and sorrows, their wrongs and their +inner delights. Laugh at myself how I will, I long to bind my arm and +brow with the phylacteries of old and to wrap myself in my fringed +shawl, and to abase myself in the dust before the God of Israel; nay, +to don the greasy gabardine at which I have mocked, and to let my hair +grow even as theirs. As yet this is all but a troubled aspiration, but +it is irresistible and must work itself out in deeds. It cannot be +argued with. The wind bloweth as it listeth; who shall say why I am +tempest-tossed?</p> + +<p><i>Monday Night.</i>—Paul has retired to rest to rise early to-morrow for +the journey to Moscow. For something has happened to alter his plans, +and he goes thither instead of to the capital. He is sleeping the +sleep of the young, the hopeful, and the joyous. <i>Ach</i>, that what +gives him joy should be to me—; but let me write down all. This +morning at breakfast Paul received a letter, which he read with a cry +of astonishment and joy. "Look, little father, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span>look," he exclaimed, +handing it to me. I read, trying to disguise my own feelings and to +sympathize with his gladness. It was a letter from a firm of +well-known publishers in Moscow, offering to publish a work on the +Greek Church, the MS. of which he had submitted to them.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nu vot, batiushka</i>," said he, "I will tell you that this book +<i>donnera à penser</i> to the theologians of the bastard forms of +Christianity."</p> + +<p>The ribald remark that rose to my lips did not pass them. "But why did +you not tell me of this before?" I asked instead, endeavouring to +infuse a note of reproach into my indifference.</p> + +<p>"Ah, father, I did not want you to distress yourself. I knew your +affection for me was so great that you might want to stint yourself, +and put yourself to trouble to help me to pay the expenses of +publication myself. You would have shared my disappointments. I wanted +you to share my triumph—as now. It is two years that I have been +trying to get it published. I wrote it in the year before mother, +whose soul is with the saints, left us. But, <i>eka!</i> I am recompensed +at last." And his pale face beamed and his dark eyes flashed with +excitement.</p> + +<p>Yes, Paul was right. As Paul always is. Brought up, I think wisely, to +believe in my comparative poverty, he has become manlier for not +having a crutch to lean upon. Was it not enough that he was devoid +from the start of the dull, dead weight of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span>Judaism which clogged my +own early years? Up to the present, though, he has not done so well as +I. Russian provincial journalism scatters few luxuries to its +votaries. Paul is so stupidly contented with everything that he is not +likely to write anything to make a sensation. He has not invented +gunpowder.</p> + +<p>Paul's voice broke in curiously on my reflections. "It ought to make +some sensation. I have collected a whole series of new arguments, +partly textual, partly historical, to show the absolute want of <i>locus +standi</i> of any other than the Orthodox Church."</p> + +<p>"Indeed," I murmured, "and what <i>is</i> the Orthodox Church?" Paul stared +at me.</p> + +<p>"I mean," I added hastily, "your conception of the Orthodox Church."</p> + +<p>"My conception?" said Paul. "I suppose you mean how do I defend the +conception which is embodied in our ceremonies and ritual?" And before +I could stop him, he had given me a summary of his arguments under +which I would not have kept awake if I had not been thinking of other +things. My poor boy! So this wire-drawn stuff about the Sacrament and +the Lord's Supper is what has cost you toilsome days and sleepless +nights, while to me the thought that I had embraced one variety of +Christianity rather than another had never before occurred. All forms +were the same to me, from Catholicism to Calvinism; the baptismal water +had glided from my back as from a duck's. True, I have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span>lived with all +the conventional surroundings of my Christian fellow-countrymen, as I +have lived with the language of Russia on my lips, and subservient to +Russian customs and manners. But all the while I was neither a Russian +nor a Christian. I was a Jew.</p> + +<p>Every now and again I roused myself to laudatory assent to one of +Paul's arguments when I divined by his tone that it was due. But when +he wound up with a panegyric on "our glorious Russian State," and "our +little father, the Czar, God's Vicegerent on earth, who alone of +European monarchs incarnates and unites in his person Church and +State, so that loyalty and piety are one," I could not refrain from +pointing out that it was a pure fluke that Russia was "orthodox" at +all.</p> + +<p>"Suppose," said I, "Wladimir, when he made his famous choice between +the Creeds of the world, had picked Judaism? It all turned on a single +man's whim."</p> + +<p>"Father," Paul cried in a pained tone, "do not be blasphemous. +Wladimir was divinely inspired to dower his country with the true +faith. Just therein lay the wisdom of Providence in achieving such +great results through the medium of an individual. It is impossible +that God should have permitted him to incline his ear to the infidel +Israelite, who has survived to be at once a link with the past and a +living proof of the sterility of the soul that refuses the living +waters. The millions of holy Russia <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span>perpetuating the stubborn heresy +of the Jews—adopting an unfaith as a faith! The very thought makes +the blood run cold. Nay, then would every Russian deserve to be sunk +in squalor, dishonesty, and rapacity, even as every Jew."</p> + +<p>"Not every Jew, Paul," I remonstrated.</p> + +<p>"No, not perhaps every Jew in squalor," he assented, with a sarcastic +laugh; "for too many of the knaves have feathered their nests very +comfortably. Even the Raskolnik is more tolerable. And many of them +are not even Jews. The Russian Press is infested with these fellows, +who take the bread out of the mouths of honest Christians, and will +even write the leaders in the religious papers. Believe me, little +father, these Jewish scribblers who have planted their flagstaffs +everywhere have cost me many a heartache, many a disappointment."</p> + +<p>I could not help thinking this sentiment somewhat unworthy of my Paul, +though it threw a flood of light on the struggle, whose details he had +never troubled me with. I began to doubt my wisdom in sending so +unpractical a youth out into the battle of life, to hew his way as +best he might. But how was I to foresee that he would become a writing +man, that he would be tripped up at every turn by some clever Hebrew, +and that his aversion from the race would be intensified?</p> + +<p>"But surely," I said, after a moment of silence, "our Slavic +journalists are not all Christians, either."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span>"They are not," he admitted sadly. "The Universities have much to +answer for. Instead of rigidly excluding every vicious book that +unsettles the great social and religious ideals of which God designed +Russia to be the exponent, the works of Spencer and Taine, and Karl +Marx and Tourguénieff, and every literary Antichrist, are allowed to +poison faith in the sap. The censor only bars the superficially +anti-Russian books. But there will come a reaction. A reaction," he +added solemnly, "to which this work of mine may, by the grace of God, +be permitted to contribute."</p> + +<p>I could have laughed at my son if I had not felt so inclined to weep. +Paul's pietism irritated me for the first time. Was it that <i>my</i> +reaction against my past had become stronger than ever, was it that +Paul had never exposed his own narrowness so completely before? I know +not. I only know I felt quite angry with him. "And how do you know +there will ever be a reaction?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Christ never leaves himself without a witness long," he answered +sententiously. "And already there are symptoms enough that the creed +of the materialist does not satisfy the soul. Look at our Tolstoï, who +is coming back to Christianity after ranging at will through the gaudy +pleasure-grounds of science and life; it is true his Christianity is +cast after his own formula, and that he has still much intellectual +pride to conquer, but he is on the right <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span>road to the fountain of +life. But, little father, you are unlike yourself this morning," he +went on, putting his hand to my hot forehead. "You are not well." He +kissed me. "Let me give you another cup of tea," he said, and turned +on the tap of the samovar with an air that disposed of the subject.</p> + +<p>I sipped at my cup to please him, remarking in the interval between +two sips as indifferently as I could, "But what makes you so bitter +against the Jews?"</p> + +<p>"And what makes you so suddenly their champion?" he retorted.</p> + +<p>"When have I championed them?" I asked, backing.</p> + +<p>"Your pardon," he said. "Of course I should have understood you are +only putting in a word for them for argument's sake. But I confess I +have no patience with any one who has any patience with these +bloodsuckers of the State. Every true Russian must abhor them. They +despise the true faith, and are indifferent to our ideals. They sneak +out of the conscription. They live for themselves, and regard us as +their natural prey. Our peasantry are corrupted by their brandy-shops, +squeezed by their money-lenders, and roused to discontent by the +insidious utterances of their peddlers, d——d wandering Jews, who +hate the Government and the Tschinn and everything Russian. When did a +Jew invest his money in Russian industries? They are a filthy, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span>treacherous, swindling set. Believe me, <i>batiushka</i>, pity is wasted +upon them."</p> + +<p>"Pity is never spent upon them," I retorted. "They are what the +Russians—what we Russians—have made them. Who has pent them into +their foul cellars and reeking dens? They work with their brains, and +you—we—abuse them for not working with their hands. They work with +their hands, and the Czar issues a ukase that they are to be driven +off the soil they have tilled. It is Æsop's fable of the wolf and the +lamb."</p> + +<p>"In which the wolf is the Jew," said Paul coolly. "The Jew can always +be trusted to take care of himself. His cunning is devilish. Till his +heart is regenerate, the Jew remains the Ishmael of the modern world, +his hand against every man's, every man's against his."</p> + +<p>"'Love thy neighbour as thyself,'" I quoted bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Even so," said Paul. "The Jew must be cut off, even as the Christian +must pluck out his own eye if it offendeth him. Christ came among us +to bring not peace but a sword. If the Kingdom of Christ is delayed by +these vermin, they must be poisoned off for the sake of Russia and +humanity at large."</p> + +<p>"Vermin, indeed!" I cried hotly, for I could no longer restrain +myself. "And what know you of these vermin of whom you speak with such +assurance? What know you of their inner lives, of their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span>sanctified +homes, of their patient sufferings? Have you penetrated to their +hearths and seen the beautiful <i>naïveté</i> of their lives, their simple +faith in God's protection, though it may well seem illusion, their +unselfish domesticity, their sublime scorn of temptation, their +fidelity to the faith of their ancestors, their touching celebrations +of fast and festival, their stanchness to one another, their humble +living and their high respect for things intellectual, their +unflinching toil from morn till eve for a few kopecks of gain, their +heroic endurance of every form of torment, vilification, contempt—?" +I felt myself bursting into tears and broke from the breakfast table.</p> + +<p>Paul followed me to my room in amazement. In the midst of all my +tempest of emotion I was no less amazed at my own indiscretion.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you?" he said, clasping his arm around my +neck. "Why make yourself so hot over this accursed race, for whom, +from some strange whim or spirit of perverseness, you stand up to-day +for the first time in my recollection?"</p> + +<p>"It is true; why indeed?" I murmured, striving to master myself. After +all, the picture I had drawn was as ideal in its beauty as Paul's in +its ugliness. "<i>Nu</i>, I only wanted you to remember that they were +human beings."</p> + +<p>"<i>Ach</i>, there is the pity of it," persisted Paul; "that human beings +should fall so low. And who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span>has been telling you of all these angelic +qualities you roll so glibly off your tongue?"</p> + +<p>"No one," I answered.</p> + +<p>"Then you have invented them. Ha! ha! ha!" And Paul went off into a +fit of good-humoured laughter. That laughter was a sword between his +life and mine, but I let a responsive smile play across my features, +and Paul went to his own room in higher spirits than ever.</p> + +<p>We met again at dinner, and again at our early supper, but Paul was +too full of his book, and I of my own thoughts to permit of a renewal +of the dispute. Even a saint, I perceive, has his touch of egotism, +and behind all Paul's talk of Russia's ideals, of the misconceptions +of their fatherland's function by feather-brained Nihilists and +Democrats possessed of that devil, the modern spirit, there danced, I +am convinced, a glorified vision of St. Paul floating down the vistas +of the future, with a nimbus of Russian ideals around his head. If he +has only put them as eloquently into his book as he talks of them he +will at least be read.</p> + +<p>But I have bred a bigot.</p> + +<p>And the more bigoted he is, the more my heart faints within me for the +simple, sublime faith of my people. Behind all the tangled network of +ceremony and ritual, the larger mind of the man who has lived and +loved sees the outlines of a creed grand in its simplicity, sublime in +its persistence. The spirit <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span>has clothed itself on with flesh, as it +must do for human eyes to gaze on it and live with it; and if, in +addition, it has swaddled itself with fold on fold of garment, even so +the music has not gone out of its voice, nor the love out of its eyes.</p> + +<p>As soon as Paul is gone to-morrow, I must plan out my future life. His +book will doubtless launch him on the road to fame and fortune. But +what remains for me? To live on as I am doing would be intolerable. To +do nothing for my people, either with voice or purse, to live alone in +this sleepy hamlet, cut off from all human fellowship, alienated from +everything that makes my neighbours' lives endurable—better death +than such a death-in-life. And yet is it possible that I can get into +touch again with my youth, that after a sort of Rip Van Winkle sleep, +I can take up again and retwine the severed strands? How shall my +people receive again a viper into its bosom? Well, come what may, +there must be an end to this. Even at this moment reproachful voices +haunt my ear; and in another moment, when I put down my pen to go to +my sleepless bed, I shall take care to light my bed-room candle before +extinguishing my lamp, for the momentary darkness would be filled with +impalpable solemnity bordering on horror. Flashes and echoes from the +ghostly world of my youth, the faces of my dead parents, strange +fragments of sound and speech, the sough of the wind in the trees of +the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span>"House of the Living," the far-away voice of the Chazan singing +some melancholy tune full of heart-break and weirdness, the little +crowded Cheder where the rabbi intoned the monotonous lesson, the +whizz of the stone little Ivanovitch flung at my forehead because I +had "killed Christ"—. No, my nerves are not strong enough to bear +these visions and voices.</p> + +<p>All my life long I see now I have been reserved and solitary. Never +has any one been admitted to my heart of hearts—not even Caterina. +But now I must unburden my soul to some one ere I die. And to another +living soul. For this dead sheet of paper will not, I perceive, do +after all.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday Night.</i>—Nearly a week has passed since I wrote the above +words, and I am driven to your pages again. I would have come to you +last night, but suddenly I recollected that it was the Sabbath. I have +kept the Sabbath. I have prayed a few broken fragments of prayer, +recovered almost miraculously from the deeps of memory. I have rested +from every toil. I stayed myself from stirring up the fire, though it +was cold and I was shivering. And a new peace has come to me.</p> + +<p>I have heard from Paul; he has completed the negotiations with the +Moscow booksellers. The book is to have every chance. Of course, in a +way I wish it success. It cannot do much harm, and I am proud of Paul, +after all. What a rabbi he would have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span>made! It seems these publishers +are also the owners of a paper, and Paul is to have some work on it, +which will give him enough to live upon. So he will stay in Moscow for +a few months and see his book through the press. He fears the distance +is too great for him to come to and fro, as he would have done had he +been at the capital. Though I know I shall long for his presence +sometimes in my strange reactions, yet on the whole I feel relieved. +To-morrow without Paul will be an easier day. I shall not go to +church, though honest old Clara Petroffskovna may stare and cross +herself in holy horror, and spoil the <i>borsch</i>. As for the +neighbours—let the <i>startchina</i> and the <i>starostas</i> and the retired +major from Courland, and even the bibulous Prince Shoubinoff, gossip +as they will. I cannot remain here now for more than a few weeks. +Besides, I can be unwell. No, on second thoughts, I shall not be +unwell. I have had enough of shuffling and deceit.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday.</i>—A day of horrible <i>ennui</i> and despair. I tried to read the +Old Testament, of course in Russian, for Hebrew books I have none, and +it is doubtful whether I could read them if I had. But the black cloud +remained. It chokes me as I write. My limbs are as lead, my head +aches. And yet I know the ailment is not of the body.</p> + +<p><i>Monday.</i>—The depression persists. I made a little expedition into +the country. I rowed up the stream in a <i>duscehubka</i>. I tried to +forget everything <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span>but the colours of the forest and the sparkle of +the waters. The air was less cold than it has been for the last few +days, but the russet of the pine-leaves spoke to me only of melancholy +and decay. The sun set in blood behind the hills. Once I heard the +howl of the wolves, but they were far away.</p> + +<p><i>Monday.</i>—So. Just a week. Nicholas Alexandrovitch says I must not +write yet, but I <i>must</i> fill up the record, even if in a few lines. It +is strange how every habit—even diary-keeping—enslaves you, till you +think only of your neglected task. Ah, well! if I have been ill, I +have been lucky in my period, for those frightful storms would have +kept me indoors. Nicholas Alexandrovitch says it was a <i>mild</i> attack +of influenza. God preserve me from a severe one! And yet would it not +be better if it had carried me off altogether? But that is a cowardly +thought. I must face the future bravely, for my own hands have forged +my fate. How the writing trembles and contorts itself! I must remember +Nicholas's caution. He is a frank, good-hearted fellow, is our village +doctor, and I have had two or three talks with him from between the +bedclothes. I don't think friend Nicholas is a very devout Christian, +by the by; for he said one or two things which I should have taken +seriously, had I been what he thinks I am; but which had an audacious, +ironical sound to my sympathetic, sceptical ears. How funny was that +story about the Archimandrite of Czernovitch!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span><i>Thursday Afternoon.</i>—My haste to be out of bed precipitated me back +again into it. But the actual pain has been small. I have grown very +friendly with Nicholas Alexandrovitch, and he has promised to spend +the evening with me. I am better now in body, though still troubled in +mind. Paul's silence has brought a new anxiety. He has not written for +twelve days. What can be the matter with him? I suppose he is +overworking himself. And now to hunt up my best cigarettes for +<i>Monsieur le médecin</i>. Strange that illness should perhaps have +brought me a friend. Nothing, alas! can bring me a confidant.</p> + +<p><i>11 p.m.</i>—Astounding discovery! Nicholas Alexandrovitch is a Jew! I +don't know how it was, but suddenly something was said; we looked at +each other, and then a sort of light flashed across our faces; we read +the mutual secret in each other's eyes; a magnetic impulse linked our +hands together in a friendly clasp, and we felt that we were brothers. +And yet Nicholas is a whole world apart from me in feeling and +conviction. How strange and mysterious is this latent brotherhood +which binds our race together through all differences of rank, +country, and even faith! For Nicholas is an agnostic of agnostics; he +is even further removed from sympathy with my new-found faith than the +ordinary Christian, and yet my sympathy with him is not only warmer +than, but different in <i>kind</i> from, that which I feel toward <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span>any +Christian, even Caterina's brother. I have told him all. Yes, little +book, him also have I told all. And he sneers at me. But there lurks +more fraternity in his sneer than in a Christian's applause. We are +knit below the surface like two ocean rocks, whose isolated crests +rise above the waters. Nicholas laughs at there being any Judaism to +survive, or anything in Judaism worth surviving. He declares that the +chosen people have been chosen for the plaything of the fates, fed +with illusions and windy conceit, and rewarded for their fidelity with +torture and persecution. He pities them, as he would pity a dog that +wanders round its master's grave, and will not eat for grief. In fact, +save for this pity, he is even as I was until these new emotions rent +me. He is outwardly a Christian, because he could not live comfortably +otherwise, but he has nothing but contempt for the poor peasants whose +fever-wrung brows he touches with a woman's hand. He looks upon them +only as a superior variety of cattle, and upon the well-to-do people +here as animals with all the vices of the muzhiks, and none of their +virtues. For my Judaic cravings he has a good-natured mockery, and +tells me I was but sickening for this influenza. He says all my +symptoms are physical, not spiritual; that the loss of Caterina +depressed me, that this depression drove me into solitude, and that +this solitude in its turn reacted on my depression. He thinks that +religion is a secretion of morbid <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span>minds, and that my Judaism will +vanish again with the last traces of my influenza. And, indeed, there +is much force in what he says, and much truth in his diagnosis and +analysis of my condition. He advises me to take plenty of outdoor +exercise, and to go back again to one of the great towns. To go back +to Judaism, to ally one's self with an outcast race and a dying +religion is, he thinks, an act of folly only paralleled by its +inutility. The world will outgrow all these forms and prejudices in +time is his confident assurance, as he puffs tranquilly at his +cigarette and sips his Chartreuse. He points out, what is true enough, +that I am not alone in my dissent from the religion I profess; for, as +he epigrammatically puts it, the greatest Raskolniks<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> are the +Orthodox. The religious statistics of the Procurator of the State +Synod are, indeed, a poor index to the facts. Well, there is comfort +in being damned in company. I do not agree with him on any other +point, but he has done me good. The black cloud is partially +lifted—perhaps the trouble was only physical, after all. I feel +brighter and calmer than for months past. Anyhow, if I am to become a +Jew again, I can think it out quietly. Even if I could bear Paul's +contempt, there would always be, as Nicholas points out, great peril +for me in renouncing the Orthodox faith. True, it would be easy enough +to bribe the priest and the authorities, and to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span>continue to receive +my eucharistical certificate. But where is the sacrifice in that? It +is hypocrisy exchanged for hypocrisy. And then what would become of +Paul's prospects if it were known his father was a <i>Zhit</i>? But I +cannot think of all this now. Paul's silence is beginning to fill me +with a frightful uneasiness. A presentiment of evil weighs upon me. My +dear dove, my <i>dusha</i> Paul!</p> + +<p><i>Friday Afternoon.</i>—Still no letter from Paul. Can anything have +happened? I have written to him, briefly informing him that I have +been unwell. I shall ride to Zlotow and telegraph, if I do not hear in +a day or two.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday Morning.</i>—All petty and stupid thoughts of my own spiritual +condition are swallowed up in the thought of Paul. Ever selfish, I +have allowed him to dwell alone in a far-off city, exposed to all the +vicissitudes of life. Perhaps he is ill, perhaps he is half-starved on +his journalistic pittance.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday Night.</i>—A cruel disappointment! A letter came, but it was +only from my man of business, advising investment in some South +American loan. Have given him <i>carte blanche</i>. Of what use is my money +to me? Even Paul couldn't spend it now, with the training I have given +him. He is only fitted for the cowl. He may yet join the Black Clergy. +Why does he not write, my poor St. Paul?</p> + +<p><i>Sunday.</i>—Obedient to the insistent clamour of the bells, I +accompanied Nicholas Alexandrovitch <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span>to <i>church</i>, and mechanically +asked help of the Virgin at the street corner. For I have gone back +into my old indifference, as Nicholas predicted. I have given the +necessary orders. The <i>paracladnoi</i> is ready. To-morrow I go to +Zlotow; thence I take the train for Moscow. He will not tell me the +truth if I wire.... The weather is bitterly cold, and the stoves here +are so small.... I am shivering again, but a glass of vodka will put +me right.... A knock.... Clara Petroffskovna has run to the door. Who +can it be? Paul?</p> + +<p><i>Monday Afternoon.</i>—No, it was not Paul. Only Nicholas +Alexandrovitch. He had heard in the village that I was making +preparations for a journey, and came to inquire about it, and to +reproach me for not telling him. He looked relieved when I told him it +was only to Moscow to look after Paul. I fancy he thought I had had a +fit of remorse for my morning's devotions, and was off to seek +readmission into the fold. Except our innkeeper, there is not a Jew in +this truly God-forsaken place. Of course, I don't reckon myself—or +the doctor. I wonder if our pope is a Jew! I laugh—but who knows? +Anyhow I am here, wrapped in my thickest fur cloak, while it is +Nicholas who is on the road to Moscow. He spoke truly in saying I was +too weak yet to undertake the journey—that springless <i>paracladnoi</i> +alone is enough to knock a healthy man up; though whether he was +equally veracious in professing to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span>have business to transact in +Moscow, I cannot say. <i>Da</i>, he is a good fellow, is my brother +Nicholas. To-morrow I shall know if anything has happened to my son, +to my only child.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday Night.</i>—Thank God! A wire from Nicholas. "Have seen Paul. No +cause for uneasiness. Will write." Blessings on you, my friend, for +the trouble you have taken for me. I feel much better already. Paul +has, I suppose, been throwing himself heart and soul into this new +journalistic work, and has forgotten his loving father. After all, it +is only a fortnight, though it has seemed months. Anyhow, he will +write. I shall hear from him in a day or two now. But a sudden +thought. "Will write." Who will write? Paul or Nicholas? Oh, Paul; +Paul without doubt. Nicholas has told him of my anxiety. Yes. +To-morrow night or the next morning I shall have a letter from Paul. +All is well.</p> + +<p>If I were to tell Paul the truth, I wonder what he would say! I am +afraid I shall never know.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday Noon.</i>—A letter from Nicholas. I cannot do better than +place it here.</p> + +<div class="block"><p>"<span class="sc">My dear Demetrius</span>,—I hope you got my telegram and are +at ease again. I had a lively journey up here, travelling in +company with a Government <i>employé</i>, who is very proud of his +country, and of the Stanislaus cross round his neck. Such a +pompous ass I have never met; he beats even our friend, Prince +Shoubinoff, in his Sunday clothes, with the <i>barina</i> on his arm. +As you may imagine, I drew him out like a telescope. I have many +a droll story for you when I return. To come to Paul. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span>made it +my business at once to call upon the publishers—it is one of +the largest firms here—and from them I learnt that your son was +still at the same address, in the <i>Kitai-Gorod</i>, as that given +in the first and only letter you have had from him. I did not +care about going there direct, for I thought it best that he +should be unaware of my presence, in case there should be +anything which it would be advisable for me to find out for your +information. However, by haunting the neighbourhood of the +offices of his newspaper, I caught sight of him within a couple +of hours. He has a somewhat over-wrought expression in his +countenance, and does not look particularly well. I fancy he is +exciting himself about the production of his book. He has not +seen me yet, nor shall I let him see me till I ascertain that he +is not in any trouble. It is only his silence to you that makes +me fancy something may be the matter; otherwise I should +unhesitatingly put down his pallor and intensity of expression +to over-work and, perhaps, religious fervour. He went straight +to the Petrovski Cathedral on leaving the offices. I am here for +a few days longer, and will write again. It is frightfully cold. +The thermometer is at freezing point. I sit in my <i>shuba</i> and +shiver. <i>Au revoir.</i></p> + +<p class="right sc">"Nicholas Alexandrovitch."</p> +</div> + +<p>There is something not quite satisfying about this letter. It looks as +if there was more beneath the surface. Paul is evidently looking ill +or ecstatic, or both. But, at any rate, my main anxiety is allayed. I +can wait with more composure for Nicholas's second letter. But why +does not the boy write himself? He must have got the letter telling +him I had been unwell. And yet not a word of sympathy! I don't half +like Nicholas's idea of playing the spy, though, as if my son is not +to be trusted. What can he suspect? But Nicholas <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span>Alexandrovitch +dearly loves to invent a mystery for the sake of ferreting it out. +These scientific men are so sharp that they often cut themselves.</p> + +<p><i>Friday Afternoon.</i>—At last Paul has written.</p> + +<div class="block"><p>"<span class="sc">My Darling Papasha</span>,—I am surprised you should be +anxious about me. I am quite comfortable here, and have now +conquered all the difficulties that beset me at the first. How +came you to allow yourself to be unwell? I hope Nicholas +Alexandrovitch is taking care of you. By the by, I almost +thought I saw him here this morning on the bridge, looking over +into the <i>reka</i>, but there was a church procession, and I had +hurried past the man before the thought struck me, and the odds +were so much against its being our <i>zemski-doktor</i>, that I would +not trouble to turn back. I have already corrected the proofs of +several sheets of my book. It will be dedicated, by special +permission, to Archbishop Varenkin. My articles in the <i>Courier</i> +are attracting considerable attention. I have left orders for +the publishers to send you my last, which will appear to-morrow. +May the holy Mother and the saints watch over you.</p> + +<p>—Your devoted son,</p> +<p class="right sc">Paul.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—I am making more money than I want, and I shall be glad +to send you some, if you have any wants unsupplied."</p></div> + +<p>My darling boy! How could I ever have felt myself alienated from you? +I will come to you and live with you and share your triumphs. No +miserable scruples shall divide our lives any more. The past is +ineradicable; the future is its inevitable fruit. So be it. My +spiritual yearnings and wrestlings were but the outcome of a morbid +physical condition. Nicholas was right. And now to read my son's +article, which I have here, marked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span>with a blue border. Why should I, +with my superficial ponderings, be right and he wrong?</p> + +<p><i>Saturday Night.</i>—I have a vague remembrance that three stars marked +the close of the Sabbath. And here in the frosty sky I see a whole +host scintillating in the immeasurable depths. The Sabbath is over and +once more I drag myself to my writing desk to pour out the anguish of +a tortured spirit. All day I have sat as in a dumb trance gazing out +beyond the <i>izbas</i> and the cabbage fields toward the eternal hills. +How beautiful and peaceful everything is! God, wilt Thou not impart to +me the secret of peace?</p> + +<p>Little did I divine what awaited my eyes when they rested fondly on +the first sentence of Paul's article. <i>Voi</i>, it was a pronouncement on +the Jewish question, venomous, scathing, mordant, terrific. It was an +indictment of the race, lit up with all the glow of moral indignation; +cruel and slanderous, yet noble and righteous in its tone and ideals; +base as hell, yet pure as heaven; breathing a savagery as of +Torquemada, and a saintliness as of Tolstoï. Paul in every line, my +own noble, bigoted, wrong-headed Paul. As I read it, my whole frame +trembled. A corresponding passion and indignation stirred my blood to +fever-heat. All my slumbering Jewish instincts woke again to fresh +life; and I knew myself for the weak, miserable wretch that I am. To +think that a son of mine should thus vilify his own race. What can I +do? <i>Bozhe moi</i>, what can <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span>I do? How can I stop this horrible, +unnatural thing? I dare not open Paul's eyes to what he is doing. And +yet it is my duty.... It is my duty. By that token I know I shall not +do it. Heaven have pity on me!</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—Heaven have pity on Paul! Here is Nicholas's promised +letter.</p> + +<div class="block"><p>"<span class="sc">Dear Demetrius</span>,—I have strange news for you. It is +quite providential (I use the word without prejudice, as the +lawyers say) that I came here. But all is well now, so you may +read what follows without alarm. Last Thursday morning, during +my purposeful wanderings within Paul's usual circuit, I came +face to face with our young gentleman. His eyes stared straight +at me without seeing me. His face was ghastly white, and the +lines were rigid as if with some stern determination. His lips +were moving, but I could not catch his mutterings. He held a +sealed letter in his hand. I saw the superscription. It was +addressed to you. Instantly the dread came to my mind that he +was about to commit suicide, and that this was his farewell to +you. I followed him. He posted the letter at the post-office, +turned back, threaded his way like a somnambulist across the +bridge, without, however, approaching the parapet, walked +mechanically onward to his own apartments, put the latch-key +into the house-door, and then fell back in a dead faint—into my +arms. I took him upstairs, explained what had happened, put him +to bed, and—I write this from the bedside. For the crisis is +over now; the brain fever has abated, and he has now nothing to +do but to get well, though he will be longer about it than a +young fellow of his age has a right to be. His body is emaciated +with fasts and vigils and penances. I curse religion when I look +at him. As if the struggle for life were not hard enough without +humanity being hampered by these miserable superstitions. But +you will be wanting to know what is the matter. Well, +<i>batiushka</i>, what should be the matter but the old, old matter? +<i>La femme</i> is, strange to relate, a fine specimen of our own +race <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</a></span>of lovely women, my dear Demetrius. She is a Jewess of the +most orthodox family in Moscow, and therein lies the crux of the +situation. (I am not playing upon words, but the phrase is +doubly significant here.) Of course Paul has not the slightest +idea I know all this; but of course I have had it from his hot +lips all the same. As far as I have been able to piece his +broken utterances together, they have had some stolen love +passages, each followed by swift remorse on both sides, +and—another furtive love passage. Paul has been comparing +himself to St. Anthony, and even to Jesus, when Satan, <i>ce chef +admirable</i>, spread a first-class dinner in the wilderness. But +the poor lad must have suffered much behind all his heroics. And +what his final resolution to give her up cost him is pretty +evident. I suppose he must have told you of it in that letter. +Isn't it the oddest thing in the world? Rachel Jacobvina is the +girl's name, and her people keep a clothes' store round the +corner, and her father is the Parnass (you will remember what +that means) of his synagogue. She is a sweet little thing; and +Paul evidently has a taste for other <i>belles</i> than +<i>belles-lettres</i>. From what you told me of him I fully expected +this sort of thing. The poor fellow is looking at me now from +among his iced bandages with a piteous air of resignation to the +will of Nicholas Alexandrovitch in bringing him back to this +world of trouble when he already felt his wings sprouting. Poor +Paul! He little dreams what I am writing; but he will get over +this, and marry some fair, blue-eyed Circassian with +corresponding tastes in fasting, and an enthusiastic longing for +the Kingdom of God, when the year shall be a perpetual Lent. In +his failure to realize history, he thinks it a crime to adore a +Jewish virgin, though he spends half his time in adoring the +Madonna. How shocked he would be if I pointed this out! People +who look through ecclesiastical spectacles so rarely realize +that the Holy Family was a Jewish one. But my pen is running +away with me, and our patient looks thirsty. <i>Proshchaï</i>.</p> + +<p class="right sc">"Nicholas."</p> + +<p>"P.S.—There is not the slightest danger of a relapse unless the +image of this diabolical girl comes before him again. And I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</a></span>keep his attention distracted. Besides, he had finally conquered +his passion. This illness was at once the seal and the witness +of his unchangeable resolve. I have heard him repeat the terms +of the letter of farewell he sent her. It was final."</p></div> + +<p>So this was the meaning of your silence; this the tragedy that lay +behind your simple sentence, "I have now conquered all the +difficulties which beset me at the first." This was the motive that +guided your hand to write those bitter lines about our race, so that +you might henceforth cut yourself off from the possibility of allying +yourself with it even in thought. I understand all now, my poor +high-mettled boy. How you must have suffered! How your pride must have +rebelled at the idea that you might have to make such a confession to +me—little knowing I should have hailed it with delight. That +temptation should have assailed you, too, at such a period—when you +were publishing your great work on the ideals of Holy Russia! +Mysterious, indeed, are the ways of Providence. And yet why may not +all be well after all, and Heaven grant me such grace as I would +willingly sacrifice my life to deserve? It is impossible that my son's +passion can be utterly dead. Such fires are only covered up. I will go +to him and tell him all. The news that he is a Jew will revolutionize +him. His love will flame up afresh and take on the guise and glamour +of duty. Love, posing as logic, will whisper in his ear that no bars +of early training can avail to keep him from the race <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</a></span>to which he +belongs by blood and by his father's faith. In this girl's eyes he +will read God's message of command, and I, God's message of Peace and +Reconciliation. The tears are in my eyes; I can hardly see to write. +The happiness I foresee is too great. Blessings on your sweet face, +Rachel Jacobvina, my own darling daughter that is to be. To you is +allotted the blessed task of solving a fearful problem, of rescuing +and reuniting two human lives. Yes, Heaven is indeed merciful. +To-morrow I start for Moscow.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—How can I write it? No, there is no pity in Heaven. The +sky smiles in steely blankness. The air cuts like a knife. Paul is +well, or as well as a convalescent can be. He must have had a heart of +ice. But it is fortunate he had, seeing what the icy fates have +wrought. I arrived at Moscow, and hurried in a <i>droshky</i> across the +well-known bridge to Paul's lodgings. A ghastly procession stopped me. +Some <i>burlaks</i> were bearing the corpse of a young girl who had thrown +herself into the ice-laden river. A clammy foreboding gathered at my +heart, but ere I had time to say a word, an old, caftan-clad man, with +agonized eyes and a white, streaming beard, dashed up, pulled off the +face-cloth, revealing a strange, weird loveliness, uttered a scream +which yet rings in my ears, threw himself passionately on the body, +rose up again, murmured something solemnly and resignedly in Hebrew, +rent his garments, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</a></span>readjusted the face-cloth, and followed weeping in +the rear. And from lip to lip, that for once forgot to curl in scorn, +flew the murmur: "Rachel Jacobvina."</p> + +<p><i>Saturday Night.</i>—I slouched into the synagogue this morning, the +cynosure of suspicious eyes. I nearly uncovered my head in +forgetfulness. Somebody offered me a <i>Talith</i>, which I wrapped round +myself with marked awkwardness. The service moved me beyond measure. I +have neither the pen nor the will to describe my sensations. I was a +youth again. The intervening decades faded away. Rachel's father said +the <i>Kaddish</i>. The peace of God has touched my soul. Paul is asleep. I +have made Nicholas take his much-needed rest. I am reading the Hebrew +Psalms. The language comes back to me bit by bit.</p> + +<p><i>Monday.</i>—Paul is sitting up reading—proofs. I have been to condole +with Rachel's father, as he sat mourning upon the ground. I explained +that I was a stranger in the town, and had heard of the accident. I +have given five hundred roubles to the synagogue. The whole +congregation is buzzing with the generosity of the rich Jewish farmer +from the country. Fortunately there is no danger of Paul hearing +anything of my doings. He is a prisoner; and Nicholas and myself keep +watch over him by turns.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—I have just come from a meeting of the Palestine +Colonization Society. Heavens, what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</a></span>ideals burn in these breasts +supposed to throb only with cupidity and cunning! Their souls still +turn to the Orient, as the needle turns to the pole. And how the +better-off among them pity their weaker brethren! With what enthusiasm +they plot and plan to get them beyond the frontier into freer +countries, but chiefly into the centre of all Jewish aspiration, the +Holy Land! How they wept when I doubled their finances at a stroke. My +poor, much-wronged brethren!</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<p><i>Odessa, Monday.</i>—It is almost a year since I closed this book, and +now, after a period of peace, I am driven to it again. Paul has made +an irruption into my tranquil household. For eleven months now I have +lived in this little two-storied house overlooking the roadstead, with +Isaac and the <i>ekonomka</i> for my sole companions. So long as I could +pour my troubles into the ear of the venerable old rabbi (who was +starving for material sustenance when I took him, as I was for +spiritual), so long I had no need of you, my old confidant. But this +visit of Paul has reopened all my sores. I have smuggled the rabbi out +of the way; but even if he were here, he could not understand the +terrible situation. The God of Israel alone knows what I feel at +having to deny Him, at having to hide my faith from my own son. He +must not stay. The New Year is nigh, with its feasts and fasts. +Moreover, surrounded as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442]</a></span>one is by spies, Paul's presence here may +lead to discoveries that I am not what the authorities imagine. +Perhaps it would have been better if I had gone back to the village. +But no. There was that church-going. A village is so small. In this +great and bustling seaport I am lost, or comparatively so. A few +roubles in the ecclesiastical palm, and complete oblivion settles on +me.</p> + +<p>To-night I shall know to what I owe this sudden visit. Paul is +radiant. He plays with his untold news like a child with a new toy. He +drops all sorts of mysterious hints. He frisks around me like a fond +spaniel. But he reserves his tit-bit for to-night, when the tramp of +the sailors and the perambulating peasantry shall have died away, and +we shall be seated cosily in my study, smoking our cigarettes, and +looking out toward the quiet lights of the shipping. Of course it is +good news—Heaven help me, I fear Paul's good news. Good news that +Paul has come all the way from St. Petersburg to tell me, which only +his own lips may tell me, must, if past omens speak truly, be +terrible. God grant I may survive the telling.</p> + +<p>What a coward I am! Have I not long since made up my mind that Paul +must go his way and I mine? What difference, then, can his news make +to me? He will never know now that I am a <i>Zhit</i> unless he hears it +from my dying lips as I utter the declaration of the Unity. I made up +my mind to that when I came here. Paul threatens to make his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[443]</a></span>mark as +a writer on theological subjects. To tell him the truth would only +sadden him and do him no good; while to reveal my own Judaism to the +world would but serve to damage him and injure his prospects. This may +seem but a cover for my cowardice, for my fear of State reprisals; but +it is true for all that. <i>Bozhe moi</i>, is it not punishment enough not +to be able to join my brethren in their worship? I must remain here, +where I am unknown, practising my religion unostentatiously and in +secret. The sense of being in a Jewish city satisfies my soul. We are +here more than a fourth of the population. House-rent and fuel are +very dear, but we thrive and prosper, thanks to God. I give to our +poor, through Isaac, but they hardly want my help. I rejoice in the +handsome synagogues, though I dare not enter them. Yes, I am best +here. Why be upset by my boy's visit? Paul will tell me his news, I +shall congratulate him, he will go back to the capital, and all will +be as before.</p> + +<p><i>Monday Midnight.</i>—No, all can never be as before. One last step +remained to divide our lives to all eternity. <i>Voi</i>, Paul has taken +it.</p> + +<p>All came off as arranged. We sat together at my window. It was a +glorious night, and a faint, fresh wind blew in from the sea. The +lights in the harbour twinkled, the stars glistened in the sky. But as +Paul told me his good news, the whole horizon was one great flame +before my eyes. He began by recapitulating, though with fuller details +than was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</a></span>possible by letter, what I knew pretty well already; the +story of the great success of his book, which had been reviewed in all +the theological magazines of Europe, and had gone through four +editions in the year, and been translated into German and Italian; the +story of how he had been encouraged to come to St. Petersburg, and how +he had prospered on the press there. And then came the grand news—he +was offered the editorship of the <i>Novoe Vremia</i>, the great St. +Petersburg paper!</p> + +<p>In an instant I realized all it meant, and in my horror I almost +fainted. Paul would direct this famous Government and anti-Semitic +organ, Paul would pen day after day those envenomed leaders, goading +on the mob to turn and rend their Jewish fellow-citizens, denying them +the rights of human beings. Paul would direct the flood of sarcasm and +misrepresentation poured forth day after day upon my inoffensive +brethren. The old anguish with which I had read that article a year +ago returned to me; but not the old tempest of wrath. By sheer force +of will I kept myself calm. A great issue was at stake, and I nerved +myself for the contest.</p> + +<p>"Paul," said I, "you are a lucky fellow." I kissed him on the brow +with icy lips. He saw my great emotion, but felt it was but natural.</p> + +<p>"<i>Da</i>," said he, "I am a lucky fellow. It is a great thing. Few men +have had such an opportunity at twenty-five."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</a></span>"<i>Nutchozh?</i> And how do you propose to utilize it?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"<i>Och</i>, I must conduct the paper on the same general lines," he said; +"of course, with improvements."</p> + +<p>"Amongst the latter the omission of the anti-Semitic bias, I hope."</p> + +<p>He stared at me. "Certainly not. The proprietors make its continuance +on the same general lines a condition. They are very good. They even +guard me against possible prosecutions by paying a handsome salary to +a man of straw. <i>Ish-lui</i>, it is a fine berth that I've got."</p> + +<p>Should I tell him the thing was impossible—that he was a Jew? No; +time for that when all other means had failed. "<i>Och</i>, you have +accepted it?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have, father. Why should I give them time to change their +minds?"</p> + +<p>"I should have thought you would have consulted me first."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nu, uzh</i>, I have never consulted you yet about accepting work," he +said in a wondering, disappointed tone.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nuka</i>, but this puts you finally into a career, does it not?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. That is why I accepted it, and I thought you would be +glad."</p> + +<p>"That is why you should have refused it. But I <i>am</i> glad all the +same."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</a></span>"I do not understand you, father."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nuka</i>, <i>golubtchik</i>, listen," I said in my most endearing tone, +drawing my arm round his neck. "Your struggles for existence were but +struggles for the sake of the struggle. You are not as other young +men. You have succeeded; and the moment you win the prize is the +moment for retiring gracefully, leaving it in the hands of him who +needs it. Your fight was but a game I allowed you to play. You are +rich."</p> + +<p>"Rich?"</p> + +<p>"Rich! Nearly all my life I have been a wealthy man. I own land in +every part of Russia; I hold shares in all the most successful +companies. I have kept this knowledge from you so that you might enjoy +your riches more when you knew the truth."</p> + +<p>"Rich?" He repeated the word again in a dazed tone. "<i>Ach</i>, why did I +not know this before?"</p> + +<p>"You had not succeeded. You had not had your experience, my son, my +dearest Paul. But now your work is over, or rather your true work +begins. Freed from the detestable routine of a newspaper office, you +shall write your books and work out your ideas at leisure, and +relieved from all material considerations."</p> + +<p>"<i>Da</i>, it would have been a beautiful ideal—once," he said; then +added fiercely: "Rich? And I did not know it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</a></span>"But you were the happier for your ignorance."</p> + +<p>"No, father. The struggle is too terrible. Often have I sat and wept. +<i>Ish-lui</i>, time after time my book—destined as it was to +success—came back to me from the publishers. And I could have +produced it myself all along!"</p> + +<p>Pangs of remorse agitated me. Had my plan been, indeed, a failure? +"But you have the pride of unhelped success."</p> + +<p>"And the bitter memories. And once—" He paused.</p> + +<p>"Once?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Once I loved a girl. She is dead now, so it doesn't matter. There +were many and complicated obstacles to our union. With money they +would have been overcome."</p> + +<p>"Poor boy!" I said wonderingly, for I knew nothing of this apparently +new love episode. "Forgive me, my son, if I have acted mistakenly. +Anyhow, from this moment your happiness is my sole care."</p> + +<p>"No," he said, with sudden determination. "It is too late now. You +meant it for the best, <i>papasha</i>. But I do not want the money now. I +have money of my own—and glory. Why should I give up what my own +hands have won?"</p> + +<p>"Because I ask it of you, Paul; because I ask you to allow me to make +reparation for the mischief I have done."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[448]</a></span>"The truest reparation will be to let things go unrepaired," he said, +with a touch of sarcasm. "I shall be happier as editor of this paper. +What finer medium for my ideas than a great newspaper? What more +potent lever to my hand for raising Holy Russia to a yet higher plane? +No, father. Let bygones be bygones. Give my share of your wealth to a +society for helping struggling talent. I struggle no longer. Leave me +to go on in the path my pen has carved out."</p> + +<p>I fell at his feet and begged him to let me have my way, but some +obstinate demon seemed to have taken possession of his breast. I +opened my desk and showered bank-notes upon him. He spurned them, and +one flew out into the night. Neither of us put out a hand to arrest +its flight.</p> + +<p>I saw that nothing but the truth had any chance to alter his resolve. +But I played one more card before resorting to this dangerous weapon.</p> + +<p>"Listen, my own dearest Paul," I burst out. "If money will not tempt +you, let a father's petition persuade you. Learn, then, that I dread +your taking this position because you will perpetually have to attack +the Jews—"</p> + +<p>"As they deserve," he put in.</p> + +<p>"Be it so. But I—I have a kindness for this oppressed race."</p> + +<p>He looked at me in silence, as if awaiting further <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[449]</a></span>explanation. I +gave it, blurting out the shameful lie with ill-concealed confusion.</p> + +<p>"Once upon a time I—I loved a Jewess. I could not marry her, of +course. But ever since that time I have had a soft place in my heart +for her unhappy race."</p> + +<p>A look of surprise flashed into Paul's eyes. Then his face grew +tender. He took my hand in his.</p> + +<p>"Father, we have a common sorrow," he said. "The girl I spoke of was a +Jewess."</p> + +<p>"How?" I exclaimed, surprised in my turn. It was the same affair, +then.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she was a Jewess. But I taught her the truth. Christ was +revealed to her prisoned soul. She would have fled with me if we had +had the means, and if I had been able to support her in some other +country. But she did not dare be baptized and stay in Moscow or +anywhere near. She said her father would have killed her. The only +alternative was for me to embrace Judaism. Impossible as you may think +it, father, and I confess it to my eternal shame, at the very period I +was correcting the proofs of my book, I was wrestling with a +temptation to embrace this Satanic heresy. But I conquered the +temptation. It was easy to conquer. To renounce the faith which was my +blessed birthright would, as you know, have cost me dear. Selfishness +warred for once on the side of salvation. Rachel wished to fly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[450]</a></span>with +me. I knew she would have been poor and unhappy. I refused to take +advantage of her girlish impetuousness. I heard afterward that she had +drowned herself." The tears rained down his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"We had arranged to wait till I could save a stock of money. <i>Voi</i>, +the delay undid us. One day Rachel's father called on me. He had got +wind of our secret. He fell at my feet and tore his hair, and wept and +conjured me not to darken his home and his life. A Jewess could only +wed a Jew, he said. If I had only been born a Jew all would have been +well. But his Rachel had, perhaps, talked of becoming a Christian. Did +I not know that was impossible? As well expect the sheep to howl like +the wolf. Blood was thicker than baptismal water. Her heart would +always cleave to her own religion. And was my love so blind as not to +see that even if she spoke of Christianity it was only to please me? +that she only kissed the crucifix that I might kiss her, and knelt to +the Virgin that I might kneel to her? At home, he swore it with +fearful oaths, she was always bitterly sarcastic at the expense of the +true faith. I believed him. My God, I believed him! For at times I had +feared it myself. I would be no party to such carnal blasphemy, and +charged him with a note of farewell. When he went I felt as if I had +escaped from a terrible temptation. I fell on my knees and thanked the +saints."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[451]</a></span>"But why did you not tell me this at the time?" I cried in intolerable +anguish.</p> + +<p>"<i>Nu</i>; to what end? It would only have worried you. I did not know you +were rich."</p> + +<p>"And at this time you offered to send <i>me</i> money!" I said, with sudden +recollection.</p> + +<p>"Since I had not enough, you might as well have some of it. Anyhow, +father, you see all this has made no difference to me. I shall never +marry now, of course; but it hasn't altered the opinion I have always +had of the Jews—rather corroborated it. Rachel told me enough of the +superstitious slavery amid which she was forced to live. I have no +doubt now that her father lied. But for his pigheaded tribalism, +Rachel would have been alive to-day. So why your love for a Jewish +girl should make you tender to the race I do not see, dearest father. +There are always exceptions to everything—Rachel was one; the woman +you loved was another. And now it is very late; I think I will go to +bed."</p> + +<p>He kissed me and went out at the door. Then he came back and put his +head inside again. A sweet, sad, winning smile lit up his pale, +thoughtful face.</p> + +<p>"I will put you on the free list of the <i>Novoe Vremia</i>, father," he +said. "Good-night, <i>papasha</i>."</p> + +<p>What could I say? What could I do? I called up a smile to my trembling +lips.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Paul," I said.</p> + +<p>I shall never tell him now.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[452]</a></span><i>Tuesday, 3 a.m.</i>—I reopen these pages to note an ironic climax to +this bitter day. Through the excitement of Paul's coming I had not +read my letters. After sitting here in a numb trance for hours, I +suddenly bethought me of them. One is from my business man, informing +me that he has just sold the South American stock, respecting which I +gave him <i>carte blanche</i>. I go to bed richer by five thousand roubles.</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<p><i>Odessa, Wednesday Night.</i>—Six months have passed. I am on the free +list of the <i>Novoe Vremia</i>. Almost every day brings me a fresh stab as +I read. But I am a "constant reader." It is my penance, and I bear it +as such. After a long silence, I have just had a letter from Nicholas +Alexandrovitch, and I reopen my diary to note it. He is about to marry +a prosperous widow, and is going over to Catholicism. He writes he is +very happy. Lucky, soulless being. He does not know he will be a +richer man when I die. Happily, I am ready, though it were to-day. My +peace is made, I hope, with God and man, though Paul knows nothing +even now. He could not fail to learn it, though, if he came to Odessa +again. I have bribed the spies and the clergy heavily. Thanks to their +silence, I am one of the most prominent Jews of the town, and nobody +dreams of connecting me with the trenchant editor of the <i>Novoe +Vremia</i>. I see now that I could have acted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[453]</a></span>so all along, if I had not +been such a coward. But I keep Paul away. It is my last cowardice. In +a postscript Nicholas writes that Paul's articles are causing a great +sensation in the remotest parts of Russia. Alas, I know it. Are there +not anti-Jewish riots in all parts, encouraged by cruel Government +measures? Do not the local newspapers everywhere reproduce Paul's +printed firebrands? Have I not the pleasure of coming across them +again in our own Odessa papers, in the <i>Wiertnik</i> and the <i>Listok</i>? I +should not wonder if we had an outbreak here. There was a little +affray yesterday in the <i>pereouloks</i> of the Jewish quarter, though we +are quiet enough down this way.... Great God! What is that noise I +hear?... Yes! it is! it is! "Down with the <i>Zhits</i>! Down with the +<i>Zhits</i>!" There is red on the horizon. <i>Bozhe moi!</i> It is flame! +<i>Voi!</i> They are pillaging the Jewish quarter. The sun sinks in blood, +as on that unhappy day among the village hills.... <i>Ach!</i> Paul, Paul! +Why did I not stop your murderous pen?... But if not you, another +would have written.... No, that is no excuse.... Forgive me, O God, I +have been weak. Ever weak and cowardly from the day I first deserted +Thee, even unto this day.... I am not worthy of my blood, of my +race.... They are coming this way. It goes through me like a knife. +"Down with the <i>Zhits</i>! Down with the <i>Zhits</i>!" And now I see them. +They are mad, drunk with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[454]</a></span>the vodka they have stolen from the Jewish +inns. Great God! They have knives and guns. And their leader is +flourishing a newspaper and shouting out something from it. There are +soldiers among them, and sailors, native and foreign, and mad muzhiks. +Where are the police?... The mob is passing under my window. <i>God pity +me, it is Paul's words they are shouting.</i>... They have passed. No +one thinks of me. Thank God, I am safe. I am safe from these demons. +What a narrow escape!... Ah, God, they have captured Rabbi Isaac and +are dragging him along by his white beard toward the barracks. My +place is by his side. I will rouse my brethren. We are not a few. We +will turn on these dogs and rend them. <i>Proshchaï</i>, my loved diary. +Farewell! I go to proclaim the Unity.</p> + +<br /> +<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4> +<br /> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In order to preserve the local colour, the Translator has +occasionally left a word or phrase of the MS. in the original +Russian.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p class="noin"><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Dissenters.</p></div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[455]</a></span><br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>X</h2> + +<h2>"INCURABLE"</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[456]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<a name="X" id="X"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[457]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>X<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>"INCURABLE"</h3> + +<div class="block"><p>"<i>Cast off among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave. +Whom Thou rememberest no more, and they are cut off from Thy +hand. Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in dark places, in +the deeps. Thy wrath lieth hard upon me and Thou hast afflicted +me with all Thy waves. Thou hast put mine acquaintance far from +me; Thou hast made me an abomination unto them; I am shut up and +I cannot come forth. Mine eye wasteth away by reason of +affliction. I have called daily upon Thee, O Lord, I have spread +forth my hands unto Thee.</i>"—Eighty-eighth Psalm.</p></div> + +<br /> + +<p>There was a restless air about the Refuge. In a few minutes the +friends of the patients would be admitted. The Incurables would hear +the latest gossip of the Ghetto, for the world was still very much +with these abortive lives, avid of sensations, Jewish to the end. It +was an unpretentious institution—two corner houses knocked +together—near the east lung of London; supported mainly by the poor +at a penny a week, and scarcely recognized by the rich; so that +paraplegia and vertigo and rachitis and a dozen other hopeless +diseases knocked hopelessly at its narrow portals. But it was a model +institution all the same, and the patients lacked for nothing except +freedom from pain. There was even <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[458]</a></span>a miniature synagogue for their +spiritual needs, with the women's compartment religiously railed off +from the men's, as if these grotesque ruins of sex might still +distract each other's devotions.</p> + +<p>Yet the Rabbis knew human nature. The sprightly, hydrocephalous, +paralytic Leah had had the chair she inhabited carried down into the +men's sitting-room to beguile the moments, and was smiling +fascinatingly upon the deaf blind man, who had the Braille Bible at +his fingers' ends, and read on as stolidly as St. Anthony. Mad Mo had +strolled vacuously into the ladies' ward, and, indifferent to the +pretty white-aproned Christian nurses, was loitering by the side of a +weird, hatchet-faced cripple with a stiletto-shaped nose supporting +big spectacles. Like most of the patients she was up and dressed; only +a few of the white pallets ranged along the walls were occupied.</p> + +<p>"Leah says she'd be quite happy if she could walk like you," said Mad +Mo in complimentary tones. "She always says Milly walks so beautiful. +She says you can walk the whole length of the garden." Milly, huddled +in her chair, smiled miserably.</p> + +<p>"You're crying again, Rebecca," protested a dark-eyed, bright-faced +dwarf in excellent English, as she touched her friend's withered hand. +"You are in the blues again. Why, that page is all blistered."</p> + +<p>"No—I feel so nice," said the sad-eyed Russian in her quaint musical +accent. "You sall not tink <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[459]</a></span>I cry because I am not happy. Ven I read +sad tings—like my life—den only I am happy."</p> + +<p>The dwarf gave a short laugh that made her pendent earrings oscillate. +"I thought you were brooding over your love affairs," she said.</p> + +<p>"Me!" cried Rebecca. "I lost too young my leg to be in love. No, it is +Psalm eighty-eight dat I brood over. 'I am afflicted and ready to die +from my yout' up.' Yes, I vas only a girl ven I had to go to +Königsberg to find a doctor to cut off my leg. 'Lover and friend hast +dou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness!'"</p> + +<p>Her face shone ecstatic.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" whispered the dwarf, with a warning nudge and a slight nod in +the direction of a neighbouring waterbed on which a pale, rigid, +middle-aged woman lay, with shut sleepless eyes.</p> + +<p>"Se cannot understand Englis'," said the Russian girl proudly.</p> + +<p>"Don't be so sure, look how the nurses here have picked up Yiddish!"</p> + +<p>Rebecca shook her head incredulously. "Sarah is a Polis' woman," she +said. "For years dey are in England and dey learn noting."</p> + +<p>"<i>Ick bin krank! Krank! Krank!</i>" suddenly moaned a shrivelled Polish +grandmother—an advanced centenarian—as if to corroborate the girl's +contention. She was squatting monkey-like on her bed, every now and +again murmuring her querulous <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[460]</a></span>burden of sickness, and jabbering at +the nurses to shut all the windows. Fresh air she objected to as +vehemently as if it were butter or some other heterodox dainty.</p> + +<p>Hard upon her crooning came bloodcurdling screams from the room above, +sounds that reminded the visitor he was not in a "Barnum" show, that +the monstrosities were genuine. Pretty Sister Margaret—not yet +indurated—thrilled with pity, as before her inner vision rose the +ashen perspiring face of the palsied sufferer, who sat quivering all +the long day in an easy-chair, her swollen jelly-like hands resting on +cotton-wool pads, an air-pillow between her knees, her whole frame +racked at frequent intervals by fierce spasms of pain, her only +diversion faint blurred reflections of episodes of the street in the +glass of a framed picture; yet morbidly suspicious of slow poison in +her drink, and cursed with an incurable vitality.</p> + +<p>Meantime Sarah lay silent, bitter thoughts moving beneath her white, +impassive face like salt tides below a frozen surface. It was a +strong, stern face, telling of a present of pain, and faintly hinting +at a past of prettiness. She seemed alone in the populated ward, and +indeed the world was bare for her. Most of her life had been spent in +the Warsaw Ghetto, where she was married at sixteen, nineteen years +before. Her only surviving son—a youth whom the English atmosphere +had not improved—had sailed away to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[461]</a></span>trade with the Kaffirs. And her +husband had not been to see her for a fortnight!</p> + +<p>When the visitors began to arrive, her torpor vanished. She eagerly +raised the half of her that was not paralyzed, partially sitting up. +But gradually expectation died out of her large gray eyes. There was a +buzz of talk in the room—the hydrocephalous girl was the gay centre +of a group; the Polish grandmother who cursed her grandchildren when +they didn't come and when they did, was denouncing their neglect of +her to their faces; everybody had somebody to kiss or quarrel with. +One or two acquaintances approached the bed-ridden wife, too, but she +would speak no word, too proud to ask after her husband, and wincing +under the significant glances occasionally cast in her direction. By +and by she had the red screen placed round her bed, which gave her +artificial walls and a quasi-privacy. Her husband would know where to +look for her—</p> + +<p>"Woe is me!" wailed her centenarian country-woman, rocking to and fro. +"What sin have I committed to get such grandchildren? You only come to +see if the old grandmother isn't dead yet. So sick! So sick! So sick!"</p> + +<p>Twilight filled the wards. The white beds looked ghostly in the +darkness. The last visitor departed. Sarah's husband had not yet come.</p> + +<p>"He is not well, Mrs. Kretznow," Sister Margaret ventured to say in +her best Yiddish. "Or he is busy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[462]</a></span>working. Work is not so slack any +more." Alone in the institution she shared Sarah's ignorance of the +Kretznow scandal. Talk of it died before her youth and sweetness.</p> + +<p>"He would have written," said Sarah sternly. "He is awearied of me. I +have lain here a year. Job's curse is on me."</p> + +<p>"Shall I to him"—Sister Margaret paused to excogitate the Yiddish +word—"write?"</p> + +<p>"No! He hears me knocking at his heart."</p> + +<p>They had flashes of strange savage poetry, these crude yet complex +souls. Sister Margaret, who was still liable to be startled, murmured +feebly, "But—"</p> + +<p>"Leave me in peace!" with a cry like that of a wounded animal.</p> + +<p>The matron gently touched the novice's arm and drew her away. "<i>I</i> +will write to him," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Night fell, but sleep fell only for some. Sarah Kretznow tossed in a +hell of loneliness. Ah, surely her husband had not forgotten +her—surely she would not lie thus till death—that far-off death her +strong religious instinct would forbid her hastening! She had gone +into the Refuge to save him the constant sight of her helplessness and +the cost of her keep. Was she now to be cut off forever from the sight +of his strength?</p> + +<p>The next day he came—by special invitation. His face was sallow, +rimmed with swarthy hair; his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[463]</a></span>under lip was sensuous. He hung his +head, half veiling the shifty eyes.</p> + +<p>Sister Margaret ran to tell his wife. Sarah's face sparkled.</p> + +<p>"Put up the screen!" she murmured, and in its shelter drew her +husband's head to her bosom and pressed her lips to his hair.</p> + +<p>But he, surprised into indiscretion, murmured: "I thought thou wast +dying."</p> + +<p>A beautiful light came into the gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"Thy heart told thee right, Herzel, my life. I <i>was</i> dying—for a +sight of thee."</p> + +<p>"But the matron wrote to me pressingly," he blurted out. He felt her +breast heave convulsively under his face; with her hands she thrust +him away.</p> + +<p>"God's fool that I am—I should have known; to-day is not visiting +day. They have compassion on me—they see my sorrows—it is public +talk."</p> + +<p>His pulse seemed to stop. "They have talked to thee of me," he +faltered.</p> + +<p>"I did not ask their pity. But they saw how I suffered—one cannot +hide one's heart."</p> + +<p>"They have no right to talk," he muttered in sulky trepidation.</p> + +<p>"They have every right," she rejoined sharply. "If thou hadst come to +see me even once—why hast thou not?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—have been travelling in the country with cheap jewellery. The +tailoring is so slack."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[464]</a></span>"Look me in the eyes! Law of Moses? No, it is a lie. God shall forgive +thee. Why hast thou not come?"</p> + +<p>"I have told thee."</p> + +<p>"Tell that to the Sabbath Fire-Woman! Why hast thou not come? Is it so +very much to spare me an hour or two a week? If I could go out like +some of the patients, I would come to thee. But I have tired thee out +utterly—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Sarah," he murmured uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Then why—?"</p> + +<p>He was covered with shame and confusion. His face was turned away. "I +did not like to come," he said desperately.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Crimson patches came and went on her white cheeks; her +heart beat madly.</p> + +<p>"Surely thou canst understand!"</p> + +<p>"Understand what? I speak of green and thou answerest of blue!"</p> + +<p>"I answer as thou askest."</p> + +<p>"Thou answerest not at all."</p> + +<p>"No answer is also an answer," he snarled, driven to bay. "Thou +understandest well enough. Thyself saidst it was public talk."</p> + +<p>"Ah—h—h!" in a stifled shriek of despair. Her intuition divined +everything. The shadowy, sinister suggestions she had so long beat +back by force of will took form and substance. Her head fell back on +the pillow, the eyes closed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[465]</a></span>He stayed on, bending awkwardly over her.</p> + +<p>"So sick! So sick! So sick!" moaned the wizened grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Thou sayest they have compassion on thee in their talk," he murmured +at last, half deprecatingly, half resentfully; "have they none on me?"</p> + +<p>Her silence chilled him. "But <i>thou</i> hast compassion, Sarah," he +urged. "<i>Thou</i> understandest."</p> + +<p>Presently she reopened her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Thou art not gone?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"No—thou seest I am not tired of thee, Sarah, my life! Only—"</p> + +<p>"Wilt thou wash my skin, and not make me wet?" she interrupted +bitterly. "Go home. Go home to her!"</p> + +<p>"I will not go home."</p> + +<p>"Then go under like Korah."</p> + +<p>He shuffled out. That night her lonely hell was made lonelier by the +opening of a peep-hole into Paradise—a paradise of Adam and Eve and +forbidden fruit. For days she preserved a stony silence toward the +sympathy of the inmates. Of what avail words against the flames of +jealousy in which she writhed?</p> + +<p>He lingered about the passage on the next visiting day, vaguely +remorseful, but she would not see him. So he went away, vaguely +indignant, and his new housemate comforted him, and he came no more.</p> + +<p>When you lie on your back all day and all night <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[466]</a></span>you have time to +think, especially if you do not sleep. A situation presents itself in +many lights from dawn to dusk and from dusk to dawn. One such light +flashed on the paradise, and showed it to her as but the portico of +purgatory. Her husband would be damned in the next world, even as she +was in this. His soul would be cut off from among its people.</p> + +<p>On this thought she brooded till it loomed horribly in her darkness. +And at last she dictated a letter to the matron, asking Herzel to come +and see her.</p> + +<p>He obeyed, and stood shame-faced at her side, fidgeting with his +peaked cap. Her hard face softened momentarily at the sight of him, +her bosom heaved, suppressed sobs swelled her throat.</p> + +<p>"Thou hast sent for me?" he murmured.</p> + +<p>"Yes—perhaps thou didst again imagine I was on my death-bed!" she +replied, with bitter irony.</p> + +<p>"It is not so, Sarah. I would have come of myself—only thou wouldst +not see my face."</p> + +<p>"I have seen it for twenty years—it is another's turn now."</p> + +<p>He was silent.</p> + +<p>"It is true all the same—I am on my death-bed."</p> + +<p>He started. A pang shot through his breast. He darted an agitated +glance at her face.</p> + +<p>"Is it not so? In this bed I shall die. But God knows how many years I +shall lie in it."</p> + +<p>Her calm gave him an uncanny shudder.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[467]</a></span>"And till the Holy One, blessed be He, takes me, thou wilt live a +daily sinner."</p> + +<p>"I am not to blame. God has stricken me. I am a young man."</p> + +<p>"Thou art to blame!" Her eyes flashed fire. "Blasphemer! Life is sweet +to thee—yet perchance thou wilt die before me."</p> + +<p>His face grew livid. "I am a young man," he repeated tremulously.</p> + +<p>"Dost thou forget what Rabbi Eliezer said? 'Repent one day before thy +death'—that is to-day, for who knows?"</p> + +<p>"What wouldst thou have me do?"</p> + +<p>"Give up—"</p> + +<p>"No, no," he interrupted. "It is useless. I cannot. I am so lonely."</p> + +<p>"Give up," she repeated inexorably, "thy wife."</p> + +<p>"What sayest thou? My wife! But she is not my wife. Thou art my wife."</p> + +<p>"Even so. Give me up. Give me <i>Get</i> (divorce)."</p> + +<p>His breath failed, his heart thumped at the suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Give thee <i>Get</i>!" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why didst thou not send me a bill of divorcement when I left thy +home for this?"</p> + +<p>He averted his face. "I thought of it," he stammered. "And then—"</p> + +<p>"And then?" He seemed to see a sardonic glitter in the gray eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[468]</a></span>"I—I was afraid."</p> + +<p>"Afraid!" She laughed in grim mirthlessness. "Afraid of a bed-ridden +woman!"</p> + +<p>"I was afraid it would make thee unhappy." The sardonic gleam melted +into softness, then became more terrible than before.</p> + +<p>"And so thou hast made me happy instead!"</p> + +<p>"Stab me not more than I merit. I did not think people would be cruel +enough to tell thee."</p> + +<p>"Thine own lips told me."</p> + +<p>"Nay—by my soul," he cried, startled.</p> + +<p>"Thine eyes told me, then."</p> + +<p>"I feared so," he said, turning them away. "When she came into my +house, I—I dared not go to see thee—that was why I did not come, +though I always meant to, Sarah, my life. I feared to look thee in the +eyes. I foresaw they would read the secret in mine—so I was afraid."</p> + +<p>"Afraid!" she repeated bitterly. "Afraid I would scratch them out! +Nay, they are good eyes. Have they not seen my heart? For twenty years +they have been my light.... Those eyes and mine have seen our children +die."</p> + +<p>Spasmodic sobs came thickly now. Swallowing them down, she said, "And +she—did she not ask thee to give me <i>Get</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, she was willing to go without. She said thou wast as one +dead—look not thus at me. It is the will of God. It was for thy sake, +too, Sarah, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[469]</a></span>that she did not become my wife by law. She, too, would +have spared thee the knowledge of her."</p> + +<p>"Yes; ye have both tender hearts! She is a mother in Israel, and thou +art a spark of our father Abraham."</p> + +<p>"Thou dost not believe what I say?"</p> + +<p>"I can disbelieve it, and still remain a Jewess."</p> + +<p>Then, satire boiling over into passion, she cried vehemently, "We are +threshing empty ears. Thinkest thou I am not aware of the +Judgments—I, the granddaughter of Reb Shloumi (the memory of the +righteous for a blessing)? Thinkest thou I am ignorant thou couldst +not obtain a <i>Get</i> against me—me who have borne thee children, who have +wrought no evil? I speak not of the <i>Beth-Din</i>, for in this impious +country they are loath to follow the Judgments, and from the English +<i>Beth-Din</i> thou wouldst find it impossible to obtain the <i>Get</i> in any +case, even though thou didst not marry me in this country, nor +according to its laws. I speak of our own <i>Rabbonim</i>—thou knowest +even the Maggid would not give thee <i>Get</i> merely because thy wife is +bed-ridden. That—that is what thou wast afraid of."</p> + +<p>"But if thou art willing,—" he replied eagerly, ignoring her scornful +scepticism.</p> + +<p>His readiness to accept the sacrifice was salt upon her wounds.</p> + +<p>"Thou deservest I should let thee burn in the lowest Gehenna," she +cried.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[470]</a></span>"The Almighty is more merciful than thou," he answered. "It is He that +hath ordained it is not good for man to live alone. And yet men shun +me—people talk—and she—she may leave me to my loneliness again." +His voice faltered with self-pity. "Here thou hast friends, nurses, +visitors. I—I have nothing. True, thou didst bear me children, but +they withered as by the evil eye. My only son is across the ocean; he +hath no love for me or thee."</p> + +<p>The recital of their common griefs softened her toward him.</p> + +<p>"Go!" she whispered. "Go and send me the <i>Get</i>. Go to the Maggid, he +knew my grandfather. He is the man to arrange it for thee with his +friends. Tell him it is my wish."</p> + +<p>"God shall reward thee. How can I thank thee for giving thy consent?"</p> + +<p>"What else have I to give thee, my Herzel, I who eat the bread of +strangers? Truly says the Proverb, 'When one begs of a beggar the Herr +God laughs!'"</p> + +<p>"I will send thee the <i>Get</i> as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>"Thou art right, I am a thorn in thine eye. Pluck me out quickly."</p> + +<p>"Thou wilt not refuse the <i>Get</i>, when it comes?" he replied +apprehensively.</p> + +<p>"Is it not a wife's duty to submit?" she asked with grim irony. "Nay, +have no fear. Thou shalt have no difficulty in serving the <i>Get</i> upon +me. I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[471]</a></span>will not throw it in the messenger's face.... And thou wilt +marry her?"</p> + +<p>"Assuredly. People will no longer talk. And she must needs bide with +me. It is my one desire."</p> + +<p>"It is mine likewise. Thou must atone and save thy soul."</p> + +<p>He lingered uncertainly.</p> + +<p>"And thy dowry?" he said at last. "Thou wilt not make claim for +compensation?"</p> + +<p>"Be easy—I scarce know where my <i>Cesubah</i> (marriage certificate) is. +What need have I of money? As thou sayest, I have all I want. I do not +even desire to purchase a grave—lying already so long in a +charity-grave. The bitterness is over."</p> + +<p>He shivered. "Thou art very good to me," he said. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p>He stooped down—she drew the bedclothes frenziedly over her face.</p> + +<p>"Kiss me not!"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, then," he stammered. "God be good to thee!" He moved away.</p> + +<p>"Herzel!" She had uncovered her face with a despairing cry. He +slouched back toward her, perturbed, dreading she would retract.</p> + +<p>"Do not send it—bring it thyself. Let me take it from thy hand."</p> + +<p>A lump rose in his throat. "I will bring it," he said brokenly.</p> + +<p>The long days of pain grew longer—the summer <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[472]</a></span>was coming, harbingered +by sunny days that flooded the wards with golden mockery. The evening +Herzel brought the <i>Get</i>, Sarah could have read every word on the +parchment plainly, if her eyes had not been blinded by tears.</p> + +<p>She put out her hand toward her husband, groping for the document he +bore. He placed it in her burning palm. The fingers closed +automatically upon it, then relaxed, and the paper fluttered to the +floor. But Sarah was no longer a wife.</p> + +<p>Herzel was glad to hide his burning face by stooping for the fallen +bill of divorcement. He was long picking it up. When his eyes met hers +again, she had propped herself up in her bed. Two big round tears +trickled down her cheeks, but she received the parchment calmly and +thrust it into her bosom.</p> + +<p>"Let it lie there," she said stonily, "there where thy head hath lain. +Blessed be the true Judge."</p> + +<p>"Thou art not angry with me, Sarah?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I be angry? She was right—I am but a dead woman. Only no +one may say <i>Kaddish</i> for me, no one may pray for the repose of my +soul. I am not angry, Herzel. A wife should light the Sabbath candles, +and throw in the fire the morsel of dough. But thy home was desolate, +there was none to do these things. Here I have all I need. Now thou +wilt be happy, too."</p> + +<p>"Thou hast been a good wife, Sarah," he murmured, touched.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[473]</a></span>"Recall not the past; we are strangers now," she said, with recurrent +harshness.</p> + +<p>"But I may come and see thee—sometimes." He had stirrings of remorse +as the moment of final parting came.</p> + +<p>"Wouldst thou reopen my wounds?"</p> + +<p>"Farewell, then."</p> + +<p>He put out his hand timidly; she seized it and held it passionately.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, Herzel! Do not leave me! Come and see me here—as a friend, +an acquaintance, a man I used to know. The others are thoughtless—they +forget me—I shall lie here—perhaps the Angel of Death will forget me, +too." Her grasp tightened till it hurt him acutely.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will come—I will come often," he said, with a sob of physical +pain.</p> + +<p>Her clasp loosened, she dropped his hand.</p> + +<p>"But not till thou art married," she said.</p> + +<p>"Be it so."</p> + +<p>"Of course thou must have a 'still wedding.' The English synagogue +will not marry thee."</p> + +<p>"The Maggid will marry me."</p> + +<p>"Thou wilt show me her <i>Cesubah</i> when thou comest next?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—I will contrive to get it from her."</p> + +<p>A week passed—he brought the marriage certificate.</p> + +<p>Outwardly she was calm. She glanced through <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[474]</a></span>it. "God be thanked," she +said, and handed it back. They chatted of indifferent things, of the +doings of the neighbours. When he was going, she said, "Thou wilt come +again?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will come again."</p> + +<p>"Thou art so good to spend thy time on me thus. But thy wife—will she +not be jealous?"</p> + +<p>He stared, bewildered by her strange, eerie moments.</p> + +<p>"Jealous of thee?" he murmured.</p> + +<p>She took it in its contemptuous sense and her white lips twitched. But +she only said, "Is she aware thou hast come here?"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders. "Do I know? I have not told her."</p> + +<p>"Tell her."</p> + +<p>"As thou wishest."</p> + +<p>There was a pause. Presently the woman spoke.</p> + +<p>"Wilt thou not bring her to see me? Then she will know that thou hast +no love left for me—"</p> + +<p>He flinched as at a stab. After a painful moment he said: "Art thou in +earnest?"</p> + +<p>"I am no marriage-jester. Bring her to me—will she not come to see an +invalid? It is a <i>mitzvah</i> (good deed) to visit the sick. It will wipe +out her trespass."</p> + +<p>"She shall come."</p> + +<p>She came. Sarah stared at her for an instant with poignant curiosity, +then her eyelids drooped to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[475]</a></span>shut out the dazzle of her youth and +freshness. Herzel's wife moved awkwardly and sheepishly. But she was +beautiful—a buxom, comely country girl from a Russian village, with a +swelling bust and a cheek rosy with health and confusion.</p> + +<p>Sarah's breast was racked by a thousand needles. But she found breath +at last.</p> + +<p>"God bless—thee, Mrs.—Kretznow," she said gaspingly.</p> + +<p>She took the girl's hand.</p> + +<p>"How good thou art to come and see a sick creature."</p> + +<p>"My husband willed it," the new wife said in deprecation. She had a +simple, stupid air that did not seem wholly due to the constraint of +the strange situation.</p> + +<p>"Thou wast right to obey. Be good to him, my child. For three years he +waited on me, when I lay helpless. He has suffered much. Be good to +him!"</p> + +<p>With an impulsive movement she drew the girl's head down to her and +kissed her on the lips. Then with an anguished cry of "Leave me for +to-day," she jerked the blanket over her face and burst into tears. +She heard the couple move hesitatingly away. The girl's beauty shone +on her through the opaque coverings.</p> + +<p>"O God!" she wailed. "God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, let me die +now. For the merits of the Patriarchs take me soon, take me soon."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[476]</a></span>Her vain passionate prayer, muffled by the bedclothes, was wholly +drowned by ear-piercing shrieks from the ward above—screams of agony +mingled with half-articulate accusations of attempted poisoning—the +familiar paroxysm of the palsied woman who clung to life.</p> + +<p>The thrill passed again through Sister Margaret. She uplifted her +sweet humid eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Christ!" she whispered. "If I could die for her!"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[477]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>XI</h2> + +<h2>THE SABBATH-BREAKER</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[478]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<a name="XI" id="XI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[479]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>XI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> + +<h3>THE SABBATH-BREAKER</h3> +<br /> + +<p>The moment came near for the Polish centenarian grandmother to die. +From the doctor's statement it appeared she had only a bad quarter of +an hour to live. Her attack had been sudden, and the grandchildren she +loved to scold could not be present.</p> + +<p>She had already battled through the great wave of pain, and was +drifting beyond the boundaries of her earthly Refuge. The nurses, +forgetting the trouble her querulousness and her overweening dietary +scruples had cost them, hung over the bed on which the shrivelled +entity lay. They did not know she was living again through the one +great episode of her life.</p> + +<p>Nearly forty years back, when (though already hard upon seventy and a +widow) a Polish village was all her horizon, she received a letter. It +arrived on the eve of Sabbath on a day of rainy summer. It was from +her little boy—her only boy—who kept a country inn seven-and-thirty +miles away, and had a family. She opened the letter with feverish +anxiety. Her son—her <i>Kaddish</i>—was the apple of her eye. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[480]</a></span>The old +woman eagerly perused the Hebrew script, from right to left. Then +weakness overcame her and she nearly fell.</p> + +<p>Embedded casually enough in the four pages was a passage that stood +out for her in letters of blood. "I am not feeling very well lately; +the weather is so oppressive and the nights are misty. But it is +nothing serious; my digestion is a little out of order, that's all." +There were roubles for her in the letter, but she let them fall to the +floor unheeded. Panic fear, travelling quicker than the tardy post of +those days, had brought rumour of a sudden outbreak of cholera in her +son's district. Already alarm for her boy had surged about her heart +all day; the letter confirmed her worst apprehensions. Even if the +first touch of the cholera-fiend was not actually on him when he +wrote, still he was by his own confession in that condition in which +the disease takes easiest grip. By this time he was on a bed of +sickness—nay, perhaps on his death-bed, if not dead. Even in those +days the little grandmother had lived beyond the common span; she had +seen many people die, and knew that the Angel of Death does not always +go about his work leisurely. In an epidemic his hands are too full to +enable him to devote much attention to each case. Maternal instinct +tugged at her heart-strings, drawing her toward her boy. The end of +the letter seemed impregnated with special omen—"Come and see me +soon, dear little mother. I shall be unable to get to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[481]</a></span>see you for +some time." Yes, she must go at once—who knew but that it would be +the last time she would look upon his face?</p> + +<p>But then came a terrible thought to give her pause. The Sabbath was +just "in"—a moment ago. Driving, riding, or any manner of journeying +was prohibited during the next twenty-four hours. Frantically she +reviewed the situation. Religion permitted the violation of the +Sabbath on one condition—if life was to be saved. By no stretch of +logic could she delude herself into the belief her son's recovery +hinged upon her presence—nay, analyzing the case with the cruel +remorselessness of a scrupulous conscience, she saw his very illness +was only a plausible hypothesis. No; to go to him now were beyond +question to profane the Sabbath.</p> + +<p>And yet beneath all the reasoning, her conviction that he was sick +unto death, her resolve to set out at once, never wavered. After an +agonizing struggle she compromised. She could not go by cart—that +would be to make others work into the bargain, and would moreover +involve a financial transaction. She must walk! Sinful as it was to +transgress the limit of two thousand yards beyond her village—the +distance fixed by Rabbinical law—there was no help for it. And of all +the forms of travelling, walking was surely the least sinful. The Holy +One, blessed be He, would know she did not mean to work; perhaps in +His mercy He would make allowance for an <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[482]</a></span>old woman who had never +profaned His rest-day before.</p> + +<p>And so, that very evening, having made a hasty meal, and lodged the +precious letter in her bosom, the little grandmother girded up her +loins to walk the seven-and-thirty miles. No staff took she with her, +for to carry such came under the Talmudical definition of work. +Neither could she carry an umbrella, though it was a season of rain. +Mile after mile she strode briskly on, toward that pallid face that +lay so far beyond the horizon, and yet ever shone before her eyes like +a guiding star. "I am coming, my lamb," she muttered. "The little +mother is on the way."</p> + +<p>It was a muggy night. The sky, flushed with a weird, hectic glamour, +seemed to hang over the earth like a pall. The trees that lined the +roadway were shrouded in a draggling vapour. At midnight the mist +blotted out the stars. But the little grandmother knew the road ran +straight. All night she walked through the forest, fearless as Una, +meeting neither man nor beast, though the wolf and the bear haunted +its recesses, and snakes lurked in the bushes. But only the innocent +squirrels darted across her path. The morning found her spent, and +almost lame. But she walked on. Almost half the journey was yet to do.</p> + +<p>She had nothing to eat with her; food, too, was an illegal burden, nor +could she buy any on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[483]</a></span>holy day. She said her Sabbath morning prayer +walking, hoping God would forgive the disrespect. The recital gave her +partial oblivion of her pains. As she passed through a village the +dreadful rumour of cholera was confirmed; it gave wings to her feet for +ten minutes, then bodily weakness was stronger than everything else, +and she had to lean against the hedges on the outskirts of the village. +It was nearly noon. A passing beggar gave her a piece of bread. +Fortunately it was unbuttered, so she could eat it with only minor +qualms lest it had touched any unclean thing. She resumed her journey, +but the rest had only made her feet move more painfully and +reluctantly. She would have liked to bathe them in a brook, but that, +too, was forbidden. She took the letter from her bosom and reperused +it, and whipped up her flagging strength with a cry of "Courage, my +lamb! the little mother is on the way." Then the leaden clouds melted +into sharp lines of rain, which beat into her face, refreshing her for +the first few moments, but soon wetting her to the skin, making her +sopped garments a heavier burden, and reducing the pathway to mud, that +clogged still further her feeble footsteps. In the teeth of the wind +and the driving shower she limped on. A fresh anxiety consumed her +now—would she have strength to hold out? Every moment her pace +lessened, she was moving like a snail. And the slower she went the more +vivid grew her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[484]</a></span>prescience of what awaited her at the journey's end. +Would she even hear his dying word? Perhaps—terrible thought!—she +would only be in time to look upon his dead face! Mayhap that was how +God would punish her for her desecration of the holy day. "Take heart, +my lamb!" she wailed. "Do not die yet. The little mother comes."</p> + +<p>The rain stopped. The sun came out, hot and fierce, and dried her +hands and face, then made them stream again with perspiration. Every +inch won was torture now, but the brave feet toiled on. Bruised and +swollen and crippled, they toiled on. There was a dying voice—very +far off yet, alas!—that called to her, and as she dragged herself +along, she replied: "I am coming, my lamb. Take heart! the little +mother is on the way. Courage! I shall look upon thy face, I shall +find thee alive."</p> + +<p>Once a wagoner observed her plight and offered her a lift, but she +shook her head steadfastly. The endless afternoon wore on—she crawled +along the forest-way, stumbling every now and then from sheer +faintness, and tearing her hands and face in the brambles of the +roadside. At last the cruel sun waned, and reeking mists rose from the +forest pools. And still the long miles stretched away, and still she +plodded on, torpid from over-exhaustion, scarcely conscious, and +taking each step only because she had taken the preceding. From time +to time her lips mumbled: "Take heart, my lamb! I am <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[485]</a></span>coming." The +Sabbath was "out" ere, broken and bleeding, and all but swooning, the +little grandmother crawled up to her son's inn, on the border of the +forest. Her heart was cold with fatal foreboding. There was none of +the usual Saturday night litter of Polish peasantry about the door. +The sound of many voices weirdly intoning a Hebrew hymn floated out +into the night. A man in a caftan opened the door, and mechanically +raised his forefinger to bid her enter without noise. The little +grandmother saw into the room behind. Her daughter-in-law and her +grandchildren were seated on the floor—the seat of mourners.</p> + +<p>"Blessed be the true Judge!" she said, and rent the skirt of her +dress. "When did he die?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday. We had to bury him hastily ere the Sabbath came in."</p> + +<p>The little, grandmother lifted up her quavering voice, and joined the +hymn, "I will sing a new song unto Thee, O God; upon a harp of ten +strings will I sing praises unto Thee."</p> + +<br /> +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<br /> + +<p>The nurses could not understand what sudden inflow of strength and +impulse raised the mummified figure into a sitting posture. The little +grandmother thrust a shrivelled claw into her peaked, shrunken bosom, +and drew out a paper, crumpled and yellow as herself, covered with +strange crabbed hieroglyphics, whose hue had long since faded. She +held it close <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[486]</a></span>to her bleared eyes—a beautiful light came into them, +and illumined the million-puckered face. The lips moved faintly; "I am +coming, my lamb," she mumbled. "Courage! The little mother is on the +way. I shall look on thy face. I shall find thee alive."</p> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h5>Printed in the United States of America.</h5> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen"><a name="TN" id="TN"></a>Typographical errors corrected in text:</p> +<br /> +Page 421: stanchness is a legitimate spelling variant of staunchness<br /> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ghetto Tragedies, by Israel Zangwill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GHETTO TRAGEDIES *** + +***** This file should be named 35076-h.htm or 35076-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/0/7/35076/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/35076.txt b/35076.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..db991d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/35076.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13379 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ghetto Tragedies, by Israel Zangwill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ghetto Tragedies + +Author: Israel Zangwill + +Release Date: January 26, 2011 [EBook #35076] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GHETTO TRAGEDIES *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + * * * * * + + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + | Transcriber's Note: | + | | + | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has | + | been preserved. | + | | + | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For | + | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | + | | + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + + * * * * * + + + + +GHETTO TRAGEDIES + + + + +The MM Co. + + + + +Ghetto Tragedies + +BY + +I. ZANGWILL + +AUTHOR OF "CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO," +"THE KING OF SCHNORRERS," ETC. + + + + +PHILADELPHIA +THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1899, +BY I. ZANGWILL + + +Norwood Press +J.S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith +Norwood Mass. U.S.A. + + + + +PREFACE + + +The "Ghetto Tragedies" collected in a little volume in 1893 have been +so submerged in the present collection that I have relegated the +original name to the sub-title. "Satan Mekatrig" was written in 1889, +"Bethulah" this year. Anyone who should wish to measure the progress +or decay of my imagination during the ten years has therefore +materials to hand. "Noah's Ark" stands on the firmer Ararat of +history, my invention being confined to the figure of Peloni (the +Hebrew for "nobody"). The other stories have also a basis in life. But +neither in pathos nor heroic stimulation can they vie with the literal +tragedy with which the whole book is in a sense involved. Mrs. N.S. +Joseph, the great-hearted lady to whom "Ghetto Tragedies" was +inscribed, herself walked in darkness, yet was not dismayed: in the +prime of life she went down into the valley of the shadow, with no +word save of consideration for others. I trust the new stories would +not have been disapproved by my friend, to whose memory they must now, +alas! be dedicated. + + I.Z. + + OCTOBER, 1899. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I + PAGE +"THEY THAT WALK IN DARKNESS" 1 + +II + +TRANSITIONAL 41 + +III + +NOAH'S ARK 79 + +IV + +THE LAND OF PROMISE 127 + +V + +TO DIE IN JERUSALEM 159 + +VI + +BETHULAH 185 + +VII + +THE KEEPER OF CONSCIENCE 249 + +VIII + +SATAN MEKATRIG 345 + +IX + +DIARY OF A MESHUMAD 403 + +X + +INCURABLE 457 + +XI + +THE SABBATH-BREAKER 479 + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +"THEY THAT WALK IN DARKNESS" + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +"THEY THAT WALK IN DARKNESS" + + +I + +It was not till she had fasted every Monday and Thursday for a +twelvemonth, that Zillah's long yearning for a child was gratified. +She gave birth--O more than fair-dealing God!--to a boy. + +Jossel, who had years ago abandoned the hope of an heir to pray for +his soul, was as delighted as he was astonished. His wife had kept him +in ignorance of the fasts by which she was appealing to Heaven; and +when of a Monday or Thursday evening on his return from his boot +factory in Bethnal Green, he had sat down to his dinner in Dalston, no +suspicion had crossed his mind that it was Zillah's breakfast. He +himself was a prosaic person, incapable of imagining such +spontaneities of religion, though he kept every fast which it behoves +an orthodox Jew to endure who makes no speciality of sainthood. There +was a touch of the fantastic in Zillah's character which he had only +appreciated in its manifestation as girlish liveliness, and which +Zillah knew would find no response from him in its religious +expression. + +Not that her spiritual innovations were original inventions. From some +pious old crone, after whom (as she could read Hebrew) a cluster of +neighbouring dames repeated what they could catch of the New Year +prayers in the women's synagogue, Zillah had learnt that certain holy +men were accustomed to afflict their souls on Mondays and Thursdays. +From her unsuspecting husband himself she had further elicited that +these days were marked out from the ordinary, even for the man of the +world, by a special prayer dubbed "the long 'He being merciful.'" +Surely on Mondays and Thursdays, then, He would indeed be merciful. To +make sure of His good-will she continued to be unmerciful to herself +long after it became certain that her prayer had been granted. + + +II + +Both Zillah and Jossel lived in happy ignorance of most things, +especially of their ignorance. The manufacture of boots and all that +appertained thereto, the synagogue and religion, misunderstood +reminiscences of early days in Russia, the doings and misdoings of a +petty social circle, and such particular narrowness with general +muddle as is produced by stumbling through a Sabbath paper and a +Sunday paper: these were the main items in their intellectual +inventory. Separate Zillah from her husband and she became even +poorer, for she could not read at all. + +Yet they prospered. The pavements of the East End resounded with their +hob-nailed boots, and even in many a West End drawing-room their +patent-leather shoes creaked. But they themselves had no wish to stand +in such shoes; the dingy perspectives of Dalston villadom limited +their ambition, already sufficiently gratified by migration from +Whitechapel. The profits went to enlarge their factory and to buy +houses, a favourite form of investment in their set. Zillah could cook +fish to perfection, both fried and stewed, and the latter variety both +sweet and sour. Nothing, in fine, had been wanting to their +happiness--save a son, heir, and mourner. + +When he came at last, little that religion or superstition could do +for him was left undone. An amulet on the bedpost scared off Lilith, +Adam's first wife, who, perhaps because she missed being the mother of +the human race, hankers after babes and sucklings. The initiation into +the Abrahamic covenant was graced by a pious godfather with pendent +ear-locks, and in the ceremony of the Redemption of the First-Born the +five silver shekels to the priest were supplemented by golden +sovereigns for the poor. Nor, though Zillah spoke the passable English +of her circle, did she fail to rock her Brum's cradle to the old +"Yiddish" nursery-songs:-- + + "Sleep, my birdie, shut your eyes, + O sleep, my little one; + Too soon from cradle you'll arise + To work that must be done. + + "Almonds and raisins you shall sell, + And holy scrolls shall write; + So sleep, dear child, sleep sound and well, + Your future beckons bright. + + "Brum shall learn of ancient days, + And love good folk of this; + So sleep, dear babe, your mother prays, + And God will send you bliss." + +Alas, that with all this, Brum should have grown up a weakling, sickly +and anaemic, with a look that in the child of poorer parents would have +said starvation. + + +III + +Yet through all the vicissitudes of his infantile career, Zillah's +faith in his survival never faltered. He was emphatically a child from +Heaven, and Providence would surely not fly in its own face. Jossel, +not being aware of this, had a burden of perpetual solicitude, which +Zillah often itched to lighten. Only, not having done so at first, she +found it more and more difficult to confess her negotiation with the +celestial powers. She went as near as she dared. + +"If the Highest One has sent us a son after so many years," she said +in the "Yiddish" which was still natural to her for intimate domestic +discussion, "He will not take him away again." + +"As well say," Jossel replied gloomily, "that because He has sent us +luck and blessing after all these years, He may not take away our +prosperity." + +"Hush! don't beshrew the child!" And Zillah spat out carefully. She +was tremulously afraid of words of ill-omen and of the Evil Eye, +against which, she felt vaguely, even Heaven's protection was not +potent. Secretly she became more and more convinced that some woman, +envious of all this "luck and blessing," was withering Brum with her +Evil Eye. And certainly the poor child was peaking and pining away. +"Marasmus," a physician had once murmured, wondering that so well +dressed a child should appear so ill nourished. "Take him to the +seaside often, and feed him well," was the universal cry of the +doctors; and so Zillah often deserted her husband for a _kosher_ +boarding-house at Brighton or Ramsgate, where the food was voluminous, +and where Brum wrote schoolboy verses to the strange, fascinating sea. + +For there were compensations in the premature flowering of his +intellect. Even other mothers gradually came round to admitting he was +a prodigy. The black eyes seemed to burn in the white face as they +looked out on the palpitating universe, or devoured every and any +scrap of print! A pity they had so soon to be dulled behind +spectacles. But Zillah found consolation in the thought that the +glasses would go well with the high black waistcoat and white tie of +the British Rabbi. He had been given to her by Heaven, and to Heaven +must be returned. Besides, that might divert it from any more sinister +methods of taking him back. + +In his twelfth year Brum began to have more trouble with his eyes, and +renewed his early acquaintance with the drab ante-rooms of eye +hospitals that led, at the long-expected ting-ting of the doctor's +bell, into a delectable chamber of quaint instruments. But it was not +till he was on the point of _Bar-Mitzvah_ (confirmation at thirteen) +that the blow fell. Unwarned explicitly by any physician, Brum went +blind. + +"Oh, mother," was his first anguished cry, "I shall never be able to +read again." + + +IV + +The prepared festivities added ironic complications to the horror. +After Brum should have read in the Law from the synagogue platform, +there was to have been a reception at the house. Brum himself had +written out the invitations with conscious grammar. "Present their +compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Solomon and shall be glad to see _them_" +(not _you_, as was the fashion of their set). It was after writing out +so many notes in a fine schoolboy hand, that Brum began to be +conscious of thickening blurs and dancing specks and colours. Now +that the blind boy was crouching in hopeless misery by the glowing +fire, where he had so often recklessly pored over books in the +delicious dusk, there was no one handy to write out the countermands. +As yet the wretched parents had kept the catastrophe secret, as though +it reflected on themselves. And by every post the Confirmation +presents came pouring in. + +Brum refused even to feel these shining objects. He had hoped to have +a majority of books, but now the preponderance of watches, rings, and +penknives, left him apathetic. To his parents each present brought a +fresh feeling of dishonesty. + +"We must let them know," they kept saying. But the tiny difficulty of +writing to so many prevented action. + +"Perhaps he'll be all right by Sabbath," Zillah persisted frenziedly. +She clung to the faith that this was but a cloud: for that the glory +of the Confirmation of a future Rabbi could be so dimmed would argue +an incomprehensible Providence. Brum's performance was to be so +splendid--he was to recite not only his own portion of the Law but the +entire Sabbath _Sedrah_ (section). + +"He will never be all right," said Jossel, who, in the utter breakdown +of Zillah, had for the first time made the round of the doctors with +Brum. "None of the physicians, not even the most expensive, hold out +any hope. And the dearest of all said the case puzzled him. It was +like the blindness that often breaks out in Russia after the great +fasts, and specially affects delicate children." + +"Yes, I remember," said Zillah; "but that was only among the +Christians." + +"We have so many Christian customs nowadays," said Jossel grimly; and +he thought of the pestilent heretic in his own synagogue who advocated +that ladies should be added to the choir. + +"Then what shall we do about the people?" moaned Zillah, wringing her +hands in temporary discouragement. + +"You can advertise in the Jewish papers," came suddenly from the +brooding Brum. He had a flash of pleasure in the thought of composing +something that would be published. + +"Yes, then everybody will read it on the Friday," said Jossel eagerly. + +Then Brum remembered that he would not be among the readers, and +despair reconquered him. But Zillah was shaking her head. + +"Yes, but if we tell people not to come, and then when Brum opens his +eyes on the Sabbath morning, he can see to read the _Sedrah_--" + +"But I don't want to see to read the _Sedrah_," said the boy +petulantly; "I know it all by heart." + +"My blessed boy!" cried Zillah. + +"There's nothing wonderful," said the boy; "even if you read the +scroll, there are no vowels nor musical signs." + +"But do you feel strong enough to do it all?" said the father +anxiously. + +"God will give him strength," put in the mother. "And he will make his +speech, too, won't you, my Brum?" + +The blind face kindled. Yes, he would give his learned address. He had +saved his father the expense of hiring one, and had departed in +original rhetorical ways from the conventional methods of expressing +filial gratitude to the parents who had brought him to manhood. And +was this eloquence to remain entombed in his own breast? + +His courageous resolution lightened the gloom. His parents opened +parcels they had not had the heart to touch. They brought him his new +suit, they placed the high hat of manhood on his head, and told him +how fine and tall he looked; they wrapped the new silk praying-shawl +round his shoulders. + +"Are the stripes blue or black?" he asked. + +"Blue--a beautiful blue," said Jossel, striving to steady his voice. + +"It feels very nice," said Brum, smoothing the silk wistfully. "Yes, I +can almost feel the blue." + +Later on, when his father, a little brightened, had gone off to the +exigent boot factory, Brum even asked to see the presents. The blind +retain these visual phrases. + +Zillah described them to him one by one as he handled them. When it +came to the books it dawned on her that she could not tell him the +titles. + +"They have such beautiful pictures," she gushed evasively. + +The boy burst into tears. + +"Yes, but I shall never be able to read them," he sobbed. + +"Yes, you will." + +"No, I won't." + +"Then I'll read them to you," she cried, with sudden resolution. + +"But you can't read." + +"I can learn." + +"But you will be so long. I ought to have taught you myself. And now +it is too late!" + + +V + +In order to insure perfection, and prevent stage fright, so to speak, +it had been arranged that Brum should rehearse his reading of the +_Sedrah_ on Friday in the synagogue itself, at an hour when it was +free from worshippers. This rehearsal, his mother thought, was now all +the more necessary to screw up Brum's confidence, but the father +argued that as all places were now alike to the blind boy, the +prominence of a public platform and a large staring audience could no +longer unnerve him. + +"But he will _feel_ them there!" Zillah protested. + +"But since they are not there on the Friday--?" + +"All the more reason. Since he cannot see that they are _not_ there, +he can fancy they _are_ there. On Saturday he will be quite used to +them." + + * * * * * + +But when Jossel, yielding, brought Brum to the synagogue appointment, +the fusty old Beadle who was faithfully in attendance held up his +hands in holy and secular horror at the blasphemy and the blindness +respectively. + +"A blind man may not read the Law to the congregation!" he explained. + +"No?" said Jossel. + +"Why not?" asked Brum sharply. + +"Because it stands that the Law shall be read. And a blind man cannot +read. He can only recite." + +"But I know every word of it," protested Brum. + +The Beadle shook his head. "But suppose you make a mistake! Shall the +congregation hear a word or a syllable that God did not write? It +would be playing into Satan's hands." + +"I shall say every word as God wrote it. Give me a trial." + +But the fusty Beadle's piety was invincible. He was highly sympathetic +toward the human affliction, but he refused to open the Ark and +produce the Scroll. + +"I'll let the _Chazan_ (cantor) know he must read to-morrow, as +usual," he said conclusively. + +Jossel went home, sighing, but silenced. Zillah however, was not so +easily subdued. "But my Brum will read it as truly as an angel!" she +cried, pressing the boy's head to her breast. "And suppose he does +make a mistake! Haven't I heard the congregation correct Winkelstein +scores of times?" + +"Hush!" said Jossel, "you talk like an Epicurean. Satan makes us all +err at times, but we must not play into his hands. The _Din_ +(judgment) is that only those who see may read the Law to the +congregation." + +"Brum will read it much better than that snuffling old Winkelstein." + +"Sha! Enough! The _Din_ is the _Din_!" + +"It was never meant to stop my poor Brum from--" + +"The _Din_ is the _Din_. It won't let you dance on its head or chop +wood on its back. Besides, the synagogue refuses, so make an end." + +"I _will_ make an end. I'll have _Minyan_ (congregation) here, in our +own house." + +"What!" and the poor man stared in amaze. "Always she falls from +heaven with a new idea!" + +"Brum shall not be disappointed." And she gave the silent boy a +passionate hug. + +"But we have no Scroll of the Law," Brum said, speaking at last, and +to the point. + +"Ah, that's you all over, Zillah," cried Jossel, relieved,--"loud +drumming in front and no soldiers behind!" + +"We can borrow a Scroll," said Zillah. + +Jossel gasped again. "But the iniquity is just the same," he said. + +"As if Brum made mistakes!" + +"If you were a Rabbi, the congregation would baptize itself!" Jossel +quoted. + +Zillah writhed under the proverb. "It isn't as if you went to the +Rabbi; you took the word of the Beadle." + +"He is a learned man." + +Zillah donned her bonnet and shawl. + +"Where are you going?" + +"To the minister." + +Jossel shrugged his shoulders, but did not stop her. + +The minister, one of the new school of Rabbis who preach sermons in +English and dress like Christian clergymen, as befitted the dignity of +Dalston villadom, was taken aback by the ritual problem, so new and so +tragic. His acquaintance with the vast casuistic literature of his +race was of the shallowest. "No doubt the Beadle is right," he +observed profoundly. + +"He cannot be right; he doesn't know my Brum." + +Worn out by Zillah's persistency, the minister suggested going to the +Beadle's together. Aware of the Beadle's prodigious lore, he had too +much regard for his own position to risk congregational odium by +flying in the face of an exhumable _Din_. + +At the Beadle's, the _Din_ was duly unearthed from worm-eaten folios, +but Zillah remaining unappeased, further searching of these Rabbinic +scriptures revealed a possible compromise. + +If the portion the boy recited was read over again by a reader not +blind, so that the first congregational reading did not count, it +might perhaps be permitted. + +It would be of course too tedious to treat the whole _Sedrah_ thus, +but if Brum were content to recite his own particular seventh thereof, +he should be summoned to the Rostrum. + +So Zillah returned to Jossel, sufficiently triumphant. + + +VI + +"Abraham, the son of Jossel, shall stand." + +In obedience to the Cantor's summons, the blind boy, in his high hat +and silken praying-shawl with the blue stripes, rose, and guided by +his father's hand ascended the platform, amid the emotion of the +synagogue. His brave boyish treble, pursuing its faultless way, +thrilled the listeners to tears, and inflamed Zillah's breast, as she +craned down from the gallery, with the mad hope that the miracle had +happened, after all. + +The house-gathering afterward savoured of the grewsome conviviality of +a funeral assemblage. But the praises of Brum, especially after his +great speech, were sung more honestly than those of the buried; than +whom the white-faced dull-eyed boy, cut off from the gaily coloured +spectacle in the sunlit room, was a more tragic figure. + +But Zillah, in her fineries and forced smiles, offered the most tragic +image of all. Every congratulation was a rose-wreathed dagger, every +eulogy of Brum's eloquence a reminder of the Rabbi God had thrown away +in him. + + +VII + +Amid the endless babble of suggestions made to her for Brum's cure, +one--repeated several times by different persons--hooked itself to her +distracted brain. Germany! There was a great eye-doctor in Germany, +who could do anything and everything. Yes, she would go to Germany. + +This resolution, at which Jossel shrugged his shoulders in despairing +scepticism, was received with rapture by Brum. How he had longed to +see foreign countries, to pass over that shining sea which whispered +and beckoned so, at Brighton and Ramsgate! He almost forgot he would +not _see_ Germany, unless the eye-doctor were a miracle-monger indeed. + +But he was doomed to a double disappointment; for instead of his going +to Germany, Germany came to him, so to speak, in the shape of the +specialist's annual visit to London; and the great man had nothing +soothing to say, only a compassionate head to shake, with ominous +warnings to make the best of a bad job and fatten up the poor boy. + +Nor did Zillah's attempts to read take her out of the infant primers, +despite long hours of knitted brow and puckered lips, and laborious +triumphs over the childish sentences, by patient addition of syllable +to syllable. She also tried to write, but got no further than her own +name, imitated from the envelopes. + +To occupy Brum's days, Jossel, gaining enlightenment in the ways of +darkness, procured Braille books. But the boy had read most of the +stock works thus printed for the blind, and his impatient brain +fretted at the tardiness of finger-reading. Jossel's one consolation +was that the boy would not have to earn his living. The thought, +however, of how his blind heir would be cheated by agents and +rent-collectors was a touch of bitter even in this solitary sweet. + + +VIII + +It was the Sabbath Fire-Woman who, appropriately enough, kindled the +next glimmer of hope in Zillah's bosom. The one maid-of-all-work, who +had supplied all the help and grandeur Zillah needed in her +establishment, having transferred her services to a husband, Zillah +was left searching for an angel at thirteen pounds a year. In the +interim the old Irishwoman who made a few pence a week by attending to +the Sabbath fires of the poor Jews of the neighbourhood, became +necessary on Friday nights and Saturdays, to save the household from +cold or sin. + +"Och, the quare little brat!" she muttered, when she first came upon +the pale, gnome-like figure by the fender, tapping the big book, for +all the world like the Leprechaun cobbling. + +"And can't he see at all, at all?" she asked Zillah confidentially one +Sabbath, when the boy was out of the room. + +Zillah shook her head, unable to speak. + +"_Nebbich!_" compassionately sighed the Fire-Woman, who had corrupted +her native brogue with "Yiddish." "And wud he be borrun dark?" + +"No, it came only a few months ago," faltered Zillah. + +The Fire-Woman crossed herself. + +"Sure, and who'll have been puttin' the Evil Oi on him?" she asked. + +Zillah's face was convulsed. + +"I always said so!" she cried; "I always said so!" + +"The divil burrun thim all!" cried the Fire-Woman, poking the coals +viciously. + +"Yes, but I don't know who it is. They envied me my beautiful child, +my lamb, my only one. And nothing can be done." She burst into tears. + +"Nothin' is a harrd wurrd! If he was _my_ bhoy, the darlint, I'd cure +him, aisy enough, so I wud." + +Zillah's sobs ceased. "How?" she asked, her eyes gleaming strangely. + +"I'd take him to the Pope, av course." + +"The Pope!" repeated Zillah vaguely. + +"Ay, the Holy Father! The ownly man in this wurruld that can take away +the Evil Oi." + +Zillah gasped. "Do you mean the Pope of Rome?" + +She knew the phrase somehow, but what it connoted was very shadowy and +sinister: some strange, mighty chief of hostile heathendom. + +"Who else wud I be manin'? The Holy Mother I'd be for prayin' to +meself; but as ye're a Jewess, I dursn't tell ye to do that. But the +Pope, he's a gintleman, an' so he is, an' sorra a bit he'll moind that +ye don't go to mass, whin he shpies that poor, weeshy, pale shrimp o' +yours. He'll just wave his hand, shpake a wurrd, an' whisht! in the +twinklin' of a bedposht ye'll be praisin' the Holy Mother." + +Zillah's brain was whirling. "Go to Rome!" she said. + +The Fire-Woman poised the poker. + +"Well, ye can't expect the Pope to come to Dalston!" + +"No, no; I don't mean that," said Zillah, in hasty apology. "Only it's +so far off, and I shouldn't know how to go." + +"It's not so far off as Ameriky, an' it's two broths of bhoys I've got +there." + +"Isn't it?" asked Zillah. + +"No, Lord love ye: an' sure gold carries ye anywhere nowadays, ixcept +to Heaven." + +"But if I got to Rome, would the Pope see the child?" + +"As sartin as the child wud see him," the Fire-Woman replied +emphatically. + +"He can do miracles, then?" inquired Zillah. + +"What else wud he be for? Not that 'tis much of a miracle to take away +the Evil Oi, bad scran to the witch!" + +"Then perhaps our Rabbi can do it, too?" cried Zillah, with a sudden +hope. + +The Fire-Woman shook her head. "Did ye ever hear he could?" + +"No," admitted Zillah. + +"Thrue for you, mum. Divil a wurrd wud I say aginst your +Priesht--wan's as good as another, maybe, for ivery-day use; but whin +it comes to throuble and heart-scaldin', I pity the poor craythurs who +can't put up a candle to the blessed saints--an' so I do. Niver a bhoy +o' mine has crassed the ocean without the Virgin havin' her candle." + +"And did they arrive safe?" + +"They did so; ivery mother's son av 'em." + + +IX + +The more the distracted mother pondered over this sensational +suggestion, the more it tugged at her. Science and Judaism had failed +her: perhaps this unknown power, this heathen Pope, had indeed +mastery over things diabolical. Perhaps the strange religion he +professed had verily a saving efficacy denied to her own. Why should +she not go to Rome? + +True, the journey loomed before her as fearfully as a Polar Expedition +to an ordinary mortal. Germany she had been prepared to set out for: +it lay on the great route of Jewish migration westwards. But Rome? She +did not even know where it was. But her new skill in reading would, +she felt, help her through the perils. She would be able to make out +the names of the railway stations, if the train waited long enough. + +But with the cunning of the distracted she did not betray her +heretical ferment. + +"P--o--p--e, Pope," she spelt out of her infants' primer in Brum's +hearing. "Pope? What's that, Brum?" + +"Oh, haven't you ever heard of the Pope, mother?" + +"No," said Zillah, crimsoning in conscious invisibility. + +"He's a sort of Chief Rabbi of the Roman Catholics. He wears a tiara. +Kings and emperors used to tremble before him." + +"And don't they now?" she asked apprehensively. + +"No; that was in the Middle Ages--hundreds of years ago. He only had +power over the Dark Ages." + +"Over the Dark Ages?" repeated Zillah, with a fresh, vague hope. + +"When all the world was sunk in superstition and ignorance, mother. +Then everybody believed in him." + +Zillah felt chilled and rebuked. "Then he no longer works miracles?" +she said faintly. + +Brum laughed. "Oh, I daresay he works as many miracles as ever. Of +course thousands of pilgrims still go to kiss his toe. I meant his +temporal power is gone--that is, his earthly power. He doesn't rule +over any countries; all he possesses is the Vatican, but that is full +of the greatest pictures by Michael Angelo and Raphael." + +Zillah gazed open-mouthed at the prodigy she had brought into the +world. + +"Raphael--that sounds Jewish," she murmured. She longed to ask in what +country Rome was, but feared to betray herself. + +Brum laughed again. "Raphael Jewish! Why--so it is! It's a Hebrew word +meaning 'God's healing.'" + +"God's healing!" repeated Zillah, awestruck. + +Her mind was made up. + + +X + +"Knowest thou what, Jossel?" she said in "Yiddish," as they sat by the +Friday-night fireside when Brum had been put to bed. "I have heard of +a new doctor, better than all the others!" After all it was the +doctor, the healer, the exorcist of the Evil Eye, that she was seeking +in the Pope, not the Rabbi of an alien religion. + +Jossel shook his head. "You will only throw more money away." + +"Better than throwing hope away." + +"Well, who is it now?" + +"He lives far away." + +"In Germany again?" + +"No, in Rome." + +"In Rome? Why, that's at the end of the world--in Italy!" + +"I know it's in Italy!" said Zillah, rejoiced at the information. "But +what then? If organ-grinders can travel the distance, why can't I?" + +"But you can't speak Italian!" + +"And they can't speak English!" + +"Madness! Work, but not wisdom! I could not trust you alone in such a +strange country, and the season is too busy for me to leave the +factory." + +"I don't need you with me," she said, vastly relieved. "Brum will be +with me." + +He stared at her. "Brum!" + +"Brum knows everything. Believe me, Jossel, in two days he will speak +Italian." + +"Let be! Let be! Let me rest!" + +"And on the way back he will be able to see! He will show me +everything, and Mr. Raphael's pictures. 'God's healing,'" she murmured +to herself. + +"But you'd be away for Passover! Enough!" + +"No, we shall be easily back by Passover." + +"O these women! The Almighty could not have rested on the seventh day +if he had not left woman still uncreated." + +"You don't care whether Brum lives or dies!" Zillah burst into sobs. + +"It is just because I do that I ask how are you going to live on the +journey? And there are no _kosher_ hotels in Italy." + +"We shall manage on eggs and fish. God will forgive us if the hotel +plates are unclean." + +"But you won't be properly nourished without meat." + +"Nonsense; when we were poor we _had_ to do without it." To herself +she thought, "If he only knew I did without food altogether on Mondays +and Thursdays!" + + +XI + +And so Brum passed at last over the shining, wonderful sea, feeling +only the wind on his forehead and the salt in his nostrils. It was a +beautiful day at the dawn of spring; the far-stretching sea sparkled +with molten diamonds, and Zillah felt that the highest God's blessing +rested like a blue sky over this strange pilgrimage. She was dressed +with great taste, and few would have divined the ignorance under her +silks. + +"Mother, can you see France yet?" Brum asked very soon. + +"No, my lamb." + +"Mother, can you see France yet?" he persisted later. + +"I see white cliffs," she said at last. + +"Ah! that's only the white cliffs of Old England. Look the other way." + +"I _am_ looking the other way. I see white cliffs coming to meet us." + +"Has France got white cliffs, too?" cried Brum, disappointed. + +On the journey to Paris he wearied her to describe France. In vain she +tried: her untrained vision and poor vocabulary could give him no new +elements to weave into a mental picture. There were trees and +sometimes houses and churches. And again trees. What kind of trees? +Green! Brum was in despair. France was, then, only like England; white +cliffs without, trees and houses within. He demanded the Seine at +least. + +"Yes, I see a great water," his mother admitted at last. + +"That's it! It rises in the Cote d'Or, flows N.N.W. then W., and N.W. +into the English Channel. It is more than twice as long as the Thames. +Perhaps you'll see the tributaries flowing into it--the little +rivers, the Oise, the Marne, the Yonne." + +"No wonder the angels envy me him!" thought Zillah proudly. + +They halted at Paris, putting up for the night, by the advice of a +friendly fellow-traveller, at a hotel by the Gare de Lyon, where, to +Zillah's joy and amazement, everybody spoke English to her and +accepted her English gold--a pleasant experience which was destined to +be renewed at each stage, and which increased her hope of a happy +issue. + +"How loud Paris sounds!" said Brum, as they drove across it. He had to +construct it from its noises, for in answer to his feverish +interrogations his mother could only explain that some streets were +lined with trees and some foolish unrespectable people sat out in the +cold air, drinking at little tables. + +"Oh, how jolly!" said Brum. "But can't you see Notre Dame?" + +"What's that?" + +"A splendid cathedral, mother--very old. Do look for two towers. We +must go there the first thing to-morrow." + +"The first thing to-morrow we take the train. The quicker we get to +the doctor, the better." + +"Oh, but we can't leave Paris without seeing Notre Dame, and the +gargoyles, and perhaps Quasimodo, and all that Victor Hugo describes. +I wonder if we shall see a devil-fish in Italy," he added +irrelevantly. + +"You'll see the devil if you go to such places," said Zillah, who, +besides shirking the labor of description, was anxious not to provoke +unnecessarily the God of Israel. + +"But I've often been to St. Paul's with the boys," said Brum. + +"Have you?" She was vaguely alarmed. + +"Yes, it's lovely--the stained windows and the organ. Yes, and the +Abbey's glorious, too; it almost makes me cry. I always liked to hear +the music with my eyes shut," he added, with forced cheeriness, "and +now that'll be all right." + +"But your father wouldn't like it," said Zillah feebly. + +"Father wouldn't like me to read the _Pilgrim's Progress_," retorted +Brum. "He doesn't understand these things. There's no harm in our +going to Notre Dame." + +"No, no; it'll be much better to save all these places for the way +back, when you'll be able to see for yourself." + +Too late it struck her she had missed an opportunity of breaking to +Brum the real object of the expedition. + +"But the Seine, anyhow!" he persisted. "We can go there to-night." + +"But what can you see at night?" cried Zillah, unthinkingly. + +"Oh, mother! how beautiful it used to be to look over London Bridge at +night when we came back from the Crystal Palace!" + +In the end Zillah accepted the compromise, and after their dinner of +fish and vegetables--for which Brum had scant appetite--they were +confided by the hotel porter to a bulbous-nosed cabman, who had +instructions to restore them to the hotel. Zillah thought wistfully of +her warm parlour in Dalston, with the firelight reflected in the glass +cases of the wax flowers. + +The cab stopped on a quay. + +"Well?" said Brum breathlessly. + +"Little fool!" said Zillah good-humouredly. "There is nothing but +water--the same water as in London." + +"But there are lights, aren't there?" + +"Yes, there are lights," she admitted cheerfully. + +"Where is the moon?" + +"Where she always is--in the sky." + +"Doesn't she make a silver path on the water?" he said, with a sob in +his voice. + +"What are you crying at? The mother didn't mean to make you cry." + +She strained him contritely to her bosom, and kissed away his tears. + + +XII + +The train for Switzerland started so early that Brum had no time to +say his morning prayers; so, the carriage being to themselves, he +donned his phylacteries and his praying-shawl with the blue stripes. + +Zillah sat listening to the hour-long recitative with admiration of +his memory. + +Early in the hour she interrupted him to say: "How lucky I haven't to +say all that! I should get tired." + +"That's curious!" replied Brum. "I was just saying, 'Blessed art Thou, +O Lord our God, who hath not made me a woman.' But a woman _has_ to +pray, too, mother. Else why is there given a special form for the +women to substitute?--'Who hath made me according to His will.'" + +"Ah, that's only for learned women. Only learned women pray." + +"Well, you'd like to pray the Benediction that comes next, mother, I +know. Say it with me--do." + +She repeated the Hebrew obediently, then asked: "What does it mean?" + +"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the +blind.'" + +"Oh, my poor Brum! Teach it me! Say the Hebrew again." + +She repeated it till she could say it unprompted. And then throughout +the journey her lips moved with it at odd times. It became a +talisman--a compromise with the God who had failed her. + +"Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the blind." + + +XIII + +Mountains were the great sensation of the passage through Switzerland. +Brum had never seen a mountain, and the thought of being among the +highest mountains in Europe was thrilling. Even Zillah's eyes could +scarcely miss the mountains. She painted them in broad strokes. But +they did not at all correspond to Brum's expectations of the Alps. + +"Don't you see glaciers?" he asked anxiously. + +"No," replied Zillah, but kept a sharp eye on the windows of passing +chalets till the boy discovered that she was looking for glaziers at +work. + +"Great masses of ice," he explained, "sliding down very slowly, and +glittering like the bergs in the Polar regions." + +"No, I see none," she said, blushing. + +"Ah! wait till we come to Mont Blanc." + +Mont Blanc was an obsession; his geography was not minute enough to +know that the route did not pass within sight of it. He had expected +it to dominate Switzerland as a cathedral spire dominates a little +town. + +"Mont Blanc is 15,784 feet above the sea," he said voluptuously. +"Eternal snow is on its top, but you will not see that, because it is +above the clouds." + +"It is, then, in Heaven," said Zillah. + +"God is there," replied Brum gravely, and burst out with Coleridge's +lines from his school-book:-- + + "'God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, + Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God! + God! sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice! + Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! + And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow, + And in their perilous fall shall thunder God!'" + +"Who openest the eyes of the blind," murmured Zillah. + +"There are five torrents rushing down, also," added Brum. "'And you, +ye five wild torrents fiercely glad.' You'll recognize Mont Blanc by +that. Don't you see them yet, mother?" + +"Wait, I think I see them coming." + +Presently she announced Mont Blanc definitely; described it with +glaciers and torrents and its top reaching to God. + +Brum's face shone. + +"Poor lamb! I may as well give him Mont Blanc," she thought tenderly. + + +XIV + +Endless other quaint dialogues passed between mother and son on that +tedious and harassing journey southwards. + +"There'll be no more snow when we get to Italy," Brum explained. +"Italy's the land of beauty--always sunshine and blue sky. It's the +country of the old Gods--Venus, the goddess of beauty; Juno, with her +peacocks; Jupiter, with his thunderbolts, and lots of others." + +"But I thought the Pope was a Christian," said Zillah. + +"So he is. It was long ago, before people believed in Christianity." + +"But then they were all Jews." + +"Oh no, mother. There were Pagan gods that people used to believe in +at Rome and in Greece. In Greece, though, these gods changed their +names." + +"So!" said Zillah scornfully; "I suppose they wanted to have a fresh +chance. And what's become of them now?" + +"They weren't ever there, not really." + +"And yet people believed in them? Is it possible?" Zillah clucked her +tongue with contemptuous surprise. Then she murmured mechanically, +"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the +blind.'" + +"Well, and what do people believe in now? The Pope!" Brum reminded +her. "And yet _he's_ not true." + +Zillah's heart sank. "But he's really there," she protested feebly. + +"Oh yes, he's there, because pilgrims come from all parts of the world +to get his blessing." + +Her hopes revived. + +"But they wouldn't come unless he really did them good." + +"Well, if you argue like that, mother, you might as well say we ought +to believe in Christ." + +"Hush! hush!" The forbidden word jarred on Zillah. She felt chilled +and silenced. She had to call up the image of the Irish Fire-Woman to +restore herself to confidence. It was clear Brum must not be told; his +unfaith might spoil all. No, the deception must be kept up till his +eyes were opened--in more than one sense. + + +XV + +After Mont Blanc, Brum's great interest was the leaning tower of Pisa. +"It is one of the wonders of the world," he said; "there are seven +altogether." + +"Yes, it is a wonderful world," said Zillah; "I never thought about it +before." + +And in truth Italy was beginning to touch sleeping chords. The +cypresses, the sunset on the mountains, the white towns dozing on the +hills under the magical blue sky,--all these broad manifestations of +an obvious beauty, under the spur of Brum's incessant interrogatory, +began to penetrate. Nature in unusual combinations spoke to her as its +habitual phenomena had never done. Her replies to Brum did rough +justice to Italy. + +Florence recalled "Romola" to the boy. He told his mother about +Savonarola. "He was burnt!" + +"What!" cried Zillah. "Burn a Christian! No wonder, then, they burnt +Jews. But why?" + +"He wanted the people to be good. All good people suffer." + +"Oh, nonsense, Brum! It is the bad who suffer." + +Then she looked at his wasted, white face, grown thinner with the +weariness of the long journey through perpetual night, and wonder at +her own words struck her silent. + + +XVI + +They arrived at last in the Eternal City, having taken a final run of +many hours without a break. But the Pope was still to seek. + +Leaving the exhausted Brum in bed, Zillah drove the first morning to +the Vatican, where Brum said he lived, and asked to see him. + +A glittering Swiss Guard stared blankly at her, and directed her by +dumb show to follow the stream of people--the pilgrims, Zillah told +herself. She was made to scrawl her name, and, thanking God that she +had acquired that accomplishment, she went softly up a gorgeous flight +of steps, and past awe-inspiring creatures in tufted helmets, into the +Sistine Chapel, where she wondered at people staring ceilingwards +through opera-glasses, or looking downwards into little mirrors. +Zillah also stared up through the gloom till she had a crick in the +neck, but saw no sign of the Pope. She inquired of the janitor whether +he was the Pope, and realized that English was, after all, not the +universal language. She returned gloomily to see after Brum, and to +consider her plan of campaign. + +"The great doctor was not at home," she said. "We must wait a little." + +"And yet you made us hurry so through everything," grumbled Brum. + +Brum remained in bed while Zillah went to get some lunch in the +dining-room. A richly dressed old lady who sat near her noticed that +she was eating Lenten fare, like herself, and, assuming her a +fellow-Catholic, spoke to her, in foreign-sounding English, about the +blind boy whose arrival she had observed. + +Zillah asked her how one could get to see the Pope, and the old lady +told her it was very difficult. + +"Ah, those blessed old times before 1870!--ah, the splendid ceremonies +in St. Peter's! Do you remember them?" + +Zillah shook her head. The old lady's assumption of spiritual +fellowship made her uneasy. + +But St. Peter's stuck in her mind. Brum had already told her it was +the Pope's house of prayer. Clearly, therefore, it was only necessary +to loiter about there with Brum to chance upon him and extort his +compassionate withdrawal of the spell of the Evil Eye. With a +culminating inspiration she bought a photograph of the Pope, and +overcoming the first shock of hereditary repulsion at the sight of the +large pendent crucifix at his breast, she studied carefully the +Pontiff's face and the Papal robes. + +Then, when Brum declared himself strong enough to get up, they drove +to St. Peter's, the instruction being given quietly to the driver so +that Brum should not overhear it. + +It was the first time Zillah had ever been in a cathedral; and the +vastness and glory of it swept over her almost as a reassuring sense +of a greater God than she had worshipped in dingy synagogues. She +walked about solemnly, leading Brum by the hand, her breast swelling +with suppressed sobs of hope. Her eyes roved everywhere, searching for +the Pope; but at moments she well-nigh forgot her disappointment at +his absence in the wonder and ghostly comfort of the great dim spaces, +and the mysterious twinkle of the countless lights before the bronze +canopy with its golden-flashing columns. + +"Where are we, mother?" said Brum at last. + +"We are waiting for the doctor." + +"But where?" + +"In the waiting-room." + +"It seems very large, mother." + +"No, I am walking round and round." + +"There is a strange smell, mother,--I don't know what--something +religious." + +"Oh, nonsense!" She laughed uneasily. + +"I know what it smells like: cold marble pillars and warm coloured +windows." + +Her blood froze at such uncanny sensibility. + +"It is the smell of the medicines," she murmured. Somehow his +divination made it more difficult to confess to him. + +"It feels like being in St. Paul's or the Abbey," he persisted, "when +I used to shut my eyes to hear the organ better." He had scarcely +ceased speaking, when a soft, slow music began to thrill with life the +great stone spaces. + +Brum's grasp tightened convulsively: a light leapt into the blind +face. Both came to a standstill, silent. In Zillah's breast rapture +made confusion more confounded; and as this pealing grandeur, swelling +more passionately, uplifted her high as the mighty Dome, she forgot +everything--even the need of explanation to Brum--in this wonderful +sense of a Power that could heal, and her Hebrew benediction flowed +out into sobbing speech:-- + +"'Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, who openest the eyes of the +blind.'" + +But Brum had fainted, and hung heavy on her arm. + + +XVII + +When Brum awoke, in bed again, after his long fainting-fit, he related +with surprise his vivid dream of St. Paul's, and Zillah weakly +acquiesced in the new deception, especially as the doctor warned her +against exciting the boy. But her hopes were brighter than ever; for +the old lady had beneficently appeared from behind a pillar in St. +Peter's to offer eau de Cologne for the unconscious Brum, and had +then, interesting herself in the couple, promised to procure for her +fellow-Catholics admission to the next Papal reception. Being a very +rich and fashionable old lady, she kept her word; but unfortunately, +when the day came round, Brum was terribly low and forbidden to leave +his bed. + +Zillah was distracted. If she should miss the great chance after all! +It might never recur again. + +"Brum," she said at last, "this is the only day for a long time that +the great eye-doctor receives patients. Do you think you could go, my +lamb?" + +"Why won't he come here--like the other doctors?" + +"He is too great." + +"Well, I daresay I can manage. It's miserable lying in bed. Fancy +coming to Rome and seeing nothing!" + +With infinite care Brum was dressed and wrapped up, and placed in a +specially comfortable brougham; and thus at last mother and son stood +waiting in one of the ante-chambers of the Vatican, amid twenty other +pilgrims whispering in strange languages. Zillah was radiantly +assured: the mighty Power, whatever it was, that spoke in music and in +mountains, would never permit such weary journeyings and waitings to +end in the old darkness; the malice of witches could not prevail +against this great spirit of sunshine. For Brum, too, the long +pilgrimage had enveloped the doctor with a miraculous glamour as of an +eighth wonder of the world. + +Drooping wearily on his mother's arm, but wrought up to joyous +anticipation, Brum had an undoubting sense of the patient crowd around +him waiting, as in his old hospital days, for admission to the +doctor's sanctum. His ear was strung for the ting-ting of the bell +summoning the sufferers one by one. + +At last a wave of awe swept over the little fashionable gathering, and +set Zillah's heart thumping and the room fading in mist, through which +the tall, venerable, robed figure, the eagle features softened in +benediction, gleamed like a god's. Then she found herself on her +knees, with Brum at her side, and the wonderful figure passing between +two rows of reverent pilgrims. + +"Why must I kneel, mother?" murmured Brum feebly. + +"Hush! hush!" she whispered. "The great doc--" she hesitated in awe of +the venerable figure--"the great healer is here." + +"The great healer!" breathed Brum. His face was transfigured with +ecstatic forevision. "'Who openeth the eyes of the blind,'" he +murmured, as he fell forward in death. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +II + +TRANSITIONAL + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +II + +TRANSITIONAL + + +I + +The day came when old Daniel Peyser could no longer withstand his +wife's desire for a wider social sphere and a horizon blacker with +advancing bachelors. For there were seven daughters, and not a man to +the pack. Indeed, there had been only one marriage in the whole +Portsmouth congregation during the last five years, and the Christian +papers had had reports of the novel ceremony, with the ritual bathing +of the bride and the breaking of the glass under the bridegroom's +heel. To Mrs. Peyser, brought up amid the facile pairing of the +Russian pale, this congestion of celibacy approached immorality. + +Portsmouth with its careless soldiers and sailors might be an +excellent town for pawnbroking, especially when one was not too +punctiliously acceptant of the ethics of the heathen, but as a market +for maidens--even with dowries and pretty faces--it was hopeless. But +it was not wholly as an emporium for bachelors that London appealed. +It was the natural goal of the provincial Jew, the reward of his +industry. The best people had all drifted to the mighty magic city, +whose fascination survived even cheap excursions to it. + +Would father deny that they had now made enough to warrant the +migration? No, father would not deny it. Ever since he had left +Germany as a boy he had been saving money, and his surplus he had +shrewdly invested in the neighbouring soil of Southsea, fast growing +into a watering-place. Even allowing three thousand pounds for each +daughter's dowry, he would still have a goodly estate. + +Was there any social reason why they should not cut as great a dash as +the Benjamins or the Rosenweilers? No, father would not deny that his +girls were prettier and more polished than the daughters of these +pioneers, especially when six of them crowded around the stern granite +figure, arguing, imploring, cajoling, kissing. + +"But I don't see why we should waste the money," he urged, with the +cautious instincts of early poverty. + +"Waste!" and the pretty lips made reproachful "Oh's!" + +"Yes, waste!" he retorted. "In India one treads on diamonds and gold, +but in London the land one treads on costs diamonds and gold." + +"But are we never to have a grandson?" cried Mrs. Peyser. + +The Indian item was left unquestioned, so that little Schnapsie, whose +childish imagination was greatly impressed by these eventful family +debates, had for years a vivid picture of picking her way with bare +feet over sharp-pointed diamonds and pebbly gold. Indeed, long after +she had learned to wonder at her father's naive geography the word +"India" always shone for her with barbaric splendour. + +Environed by so much persistent femininity, the rugged elderly toiler +was at last nagged into accepting a leisured life in London. + + +II + +And so the family spread its wings joyfully and migrated to the +wonder-town. Only its head and tail--old Daniel and little +Schnapsie--felt the least sentiment for the things left behind. Old +Daniel left the dingy synagogue to whose presidency he had mounted +with the fattening of his purse, and in which he bought for himself, +or those he delighted to honour, the choicest privileges of +ark-opening or scroll-bearing; left the cronies who dropped in to play +"Klabberjagd" on Sunday afternoons; left the bustling lucrative +Saturday nights in the shop when the heathen housewives came to redeem +their Sabbath finery. + +And little Schnapsie--who was only eleven, and not keen about +husbands--left the twinkling tarry harbour, with its heroic hulks and +modern men-of-war amid which the half-penny steamer plied; left the +great waves that smashed on the pebbly beach, and the friendly moon +that threw shimmering paths across their tranquillity; left the narrow +lively streets in which she had played, and the school in which she +had always headed her class, and the salt wind that blew over all. + +Little Schnapsie was only Schnapsie to her father. Her real name was +Florence. The four younger girls all bore pagan names--Sylvia, Lily, +Daisy, Florence--symbolic of the influence upon the family councils of +the three elder girls, grown to years of discretion and disgust with +their own Leah, Rachael, and Rebecca. Between these two strata of +girls--Jewish and pagan--two boys had intervened, but their stay was +brief and pitiful, so that all this plethora of progeny had not +provided the father with a male mourner to say the _Kaddish_. But it +seemed likely a grandson would not long be a-wanting, for the eldest +girl was twenty-five, and all were good-looking. As if in irony, the +Jewish group was blond, almost Christian, in colouring (for they took +after the Teuton father), while the pagan group had characteristically +Oriental traits. In little Schnapsie these Eastern charms--a whit +heavy in her sisters--were repeated in a key of exquisite refinement. +The thick black eyebrows and hair were soft as silk, dark dreamy eyes +suffused her oval face with poetry, and her skin was like dead ivory +flushing into life. + + +III + +The first year at Highbury, that genteel suburb in the north of +London, was an enchanted ecstasy for the mother and the Jewish group +of girls, taken at once to the bosom of a great German clan, and +admitted to a new world of dances and dinners, of "at homes" and +theatres and card parties. The eldest of the pagan group, +Sylvia--tyrannically kept young in the interests of her sisters--was +the only one who grumbled at the change, for Lily and Daisy found +sufficient gain in the prospect of replacing the elder group when it +should have passed away in an odour of orange blossom. The scent of +that was always in the air, and Mrs. Peyser and her three hopefuls +sniffed it night and day. + +"No, no; Rebecca shall have him." + +"Not me! I am not going to marry a man with carroty hair. Leah's the +eldest; it's her turn first." + +"Thank you, my dear. Don't give away what you haven't got." + +Every new young man who showed the faintest signs of liking to drop +in, provoked a similar semi-facetious but also semi-serious +canvassing--his person, his income, and the girl to whom he should be +allotted supplying the sauce of every meal at which he--or his +fellow--was not present. + +Thus, whether in the flesh or the spirit, the Young Man--for so many +of him appeared on the scene that he hovered in the air rather as a +type than an individual--was a permanent guest at the Peyser table. + +But all this new domestic excitement did not compensate little +Schnapsie for her moonlit waters and the strange ships that came and +went with their cargo of mystery. + +And poor old Daniel found no cronies to appeal to him like the old, +nothing in the roar of London to compensate for the Saturday night +bustle of the pawn-shop, no dingy little synagogue desirous of his +presidential pomp. He sat inconspicuously in a handsome half-empty +edifice, and knew himself a superfluous atom in a vast lonely +wilderness. + +He was not, indeed, an imposing figure, with his ragged graying +whiskers and his boyish blue eyes. In the street he had the stoop and +shuffle of the Ghetto, and forgot to hide his coarse red hands with +gloves; in the house he persisted in wearing a pious skull-cap. At +first his more adaptable wife and his English-bred daughters tried to +fit him for decent society, and to make him feel at home during their +"at homes." But he was soon relegated to the background of these +brilliant social tableaux; for he was either too silent or too +talkative, with old-fashioned Jewish jokes which disconcerted the +smart young men, and with Hebrew quotations which they could not even +understand. And sometimes there thrilled through the small-talk the +trumpet-note of his nose, as he blew it into a coloured handkerchief. +Gradually he was eliminated from the drawing-room altogether. + +But for some years longer he reigned supreme in the dining-room--when +there was no company. Old habit kept the girls at table when he +intoned with noisy unction the Hebrew grace after meals; they even +joined in the melodious morceaux that diversified the plain-chant. But +little by little their contributions dwindled to silence. And when +they had smart company to dinner, the old man himself was hushed by +rows of blond and bugle eyebrows; especially after he had once or +twice put young men to shame by offering them the honour of reciting +the grace they did not know. + +Daniel's prayer on such occasions was at length reduced to a pious +mumbling, which went unobserved amid the joyous clatter of dessert, +even as his pious skull-cap passed as a preventive against cold. + +Last stage of all, the mumbling of his company manners passed over +into the domestic circle; and this humble whispering to God became +symbolic of his suppression. + + +IV + +"I don't think he means Rachael at all." + +"Oh, how can you say so, Leah? It was me he took down to supper." + +"Nonsense! it isn't either of you he's after; that's only his +politeness to my sisters. Didn't he say the bouquet was for me?" + +"Don't be silly, Rebecca. You know you can't have him. The eldest must +take precedence." + +This changed tone indicated their humbler attitude toward the Young +Man as the years went by. For the first young man did not propose, +either to the sisterhood _en bloc_ or to a particular sister. And his +example was followed by his successors. In fact, a procession of young +men passed and repassed through the house, or danced with the girls at +balls, without a single application for any of these many hands. And +the first season passed into the second, and the second into the +third, with tantalizing mirages of marriage. Balls, dances, dinners, a +universe of nebulous matrimonial matter on the whirl, but never the +shot-off star of an engagement! Mrs. Peyser's hair began to whiten +faster. She even surreptitiously called in the Shadchan, or rather +surrendered to his solicitations. + +"Pooh! Not find any one suitable?" he declared, rubbing his hands. "I +have hundreds of young men on my books, just your sort, real +gentlemen." + +At first the girls refused to consider applications from such a +source. It was not done in their set, they said. + +Mrs. Peyser snorted sceptically. "Oh, indeed! and pray how did those +Rosenweiler girls find husbands?" + +"Oh, yes, the Rosenweilers!" They shrugged their shoulders; they knew +they had not that disadvantage of hideousness. + +Nevertheless they lent an ear to the agent's suggestions as filtered +through the mother, though under pretence of deriding them. + +But the day came when even that pretence was dropped, and with broken +spirit they waited eagerly for each new possibility. And with the +passing of the years the Young Man aged. He grew balder, less +gentlemanly, poorer. + +Once indeed, he turned up as a handsome and wealthy Christian, but +this time it was he that was rejected in a unanimous sisterly shudder. +Five slow years wore by, then of a sudden the luck changed. A +water-proof manufacturer on the sunny side of forty appeared, the long +glacial epoch was broken up, and the first orange blossom ripened for +the Peyser household. + +It was Rebecca, the youngest of the Jewish group, who proved the +pioneer to the canopy, but her marriage gave a new lease of youth even +to the oldest. And miraculously, mysteriously, within a few months two +other girls flew off Mrs. Peyser's shoulders--a Jewish and a +pagan--though Sylvia was not yet formally "out." + +And though Leah, the first born, still remained unchosen, yet Sylvia's +marriage to a Bayswater household had raised the family status, and +provided a better field for operations. The Shadchan was frozen off. + +But he returned. For despite all these auguries and auspices another +arctic winter set in. No orange blossoms, only desolate lichens of +fruitless flirtation. + +Gradually the pagan group pushed its way into unconcealable womanhood. +The problem darkened all the horizon. The Young Man grew middle-aged +again. He lost all his money; he wanted old Daniel to set him up in +business. Even this seemed better than a barren fine ladyhood, and +Leah might have even harked back to the parental pawn-shop had not +another sudden epidemic of felicity married off all save little +Schnapsie within eighteen months. Mrs. Peyser was knocked breathless +by all these shocks. First a rich German banker, then a prosperous +solicitor (for Leah), then a Cape financier--any one in himself catch +enough to "gouge out the eyes" of the neighbours. + +"I told you so," she said, her portly bosom swelling portlier with +exultation as the sixth bride was whirled off in a rice shower from +the Highbury villa, while the other five sat around in radiant +matronhood. "I told you to come to London." + +Daniel pressed her hand in gratitude for all the happiness she had +given herself and the girls. + +"If it were not for Florence," she went on wistfully. + +"Ah, little Schnapsie!" sighed Daniel. Somehow he felt he would have +preferred her hymeneal felicity to all these marvellous marriages. +For there had grown up a strange sympathy between the poor lonely old +man, now nearly seventy, and his little girl, now twenty-four. They +never conversed except about commonplaces, but somehow he felt that +her presence warmed the air. And she--she divined his solitude, albeit +dimly; had an intuition of what life had been for him in the days +before she was born: the long days behind the counter, the risings in +the gray dawn to chant orisons and don phylacteries ere the pawn-shop +opened, the lengthy prayer and the swift supper when the shutters were +at last put up--all the bare rock on which this floriage of prosperity +had been sown. And long after the others had dropped kissing him +good-night, she would tender her lips, partly because of the necessary +domestic fiction that she was still a baby, but also because she felt +instinctively that the kiss counted in his life. + +Through all these years of sordid squabbles and canvassings and weary +waiting, all those endless scenes of hysteria engendered by the mutual +friction of all that close-packed femininity, poor Schnapsie had +lived, shuddering. Sometimes a sense of the pathos of it all, of the +tragedy of women's lives, swept over her. She regretted every inch she +grew, it seemed to shame her celibate sisters so. She clung willingly +to short skirts until she was of age, wore her long raven hair in a +plait with a red ribbon. + +"Well, Florence," said Leah genially, when the last outsider at +Daisy's wedding had departed, "it's your turn next. You'd better hurry +up." + +"Thank you," said Florence coldly. "I shall take my own time; +fortunately there is no one behind me." + +"Humph!" said Leah, playing with her diamond rings. "It don't do to be +too particular. Why don't you come round and see me sometimes?" + +"There are so many of you now," murmured Florence. She was not +attracted by the solicitors and traders in whose society and carriages +her mother lolled luxuriously, and she resented the matronly airs of +her sisters. With Leah, however, she was conscious of a different and +more paradoxical provocation. Leah had an incredible air of +juvenility. All those unthinkable, innumerable years little Schnapsie +had conceived of her eldest sister as an old maid, hopeless, +senescent, despite the wonderful belt that had kept her figure +dashing; but now that she was married she had become the girlish +bride, kittenish, irresistible, while little Schnapsie was the old +maid, the sister in peril of being passed by. And indeed she felt +herself appallingly ancient, prematurely aged by her long stay at +seventeen. + +"Yes, you are right, Leah," she said pensively, with a touch of +malice. "To-morrow I shall be twenty-four." + +"What?" shrieked Leah. + +"Yes," Florence said obstinately. "And oh, how glad I shall be!" She +raised her arms exultingly and stretched herself, as if shooting up +seven years as soon as the pressure of her sisters was removed. + +"Do you hear, mother?" whispered Leah. "That fool of a Florence is +going to celebrate her twenty-fourth birthday. Not the slightest +consideration for _us_!" + +"I didn't say I would celebrate it publicly," said Florence. +"Besides," she suggested, smiling, "very soon people will forget that +I am _not_ the eldest." + +"Then your folly will recoil on your own head," said Leah. + +Little Schnapsie gave a devil-may-care shrug--a Ghetto trait that +still clung to all the sisters. + +"Yes," added Mrs. Peyser. "Think what it will be in ten years' time!" + +"I shall be thirty-four," said Florence imperturbably. Another little +smile lit up the dreamy eyes. "Then I _shall_ be the eldest." + +"Madness!" cried Mrs. Peyser, aloud, forgetting that her daughters' +husbands were about. "God forbid I should live to see any girl of mine +thirty-four!" + +"Hush, mother!" said Florence quietly. "I hope you will; indeed, I am +sure you will, for I shall _never_ marry. So don't bother to put me on +the books--I'm not on the market. Good-night." + +She sought out poor Daniel, who, awed by the culture and standing of +his five sons-in-law, not to speak of the guests, was hanging about +the deserted supper-room, smoking cigar after cigar, much to the +disgust of the caterer's men, who were waiting to spirit away the box. + +Having duly kissed her father, little Schnapsie retired to bed to read +Browning's love-poems. Her mother had to take a glass of champagne to +restore her ruffled nerves to the appropriate ecstasy. + + +V + +Poor portly Mrs. Peyser was not destined to enjoy her harvest of +happiness for more than a few years. But these years were an +overbrimming cup, with only the bitter drop of Florence's heretical +indifference to the Young Man. Environed by the six households which +she had begotten, Mrs. Peyser breathed that atmosphere of ebullient +babyhood which was the breath of her Jewish nostrils; babies appeared +almost every other month. It was a seething well-spring of healthy +life. Religious ceremonies connected with these chubby new-comers, or +medical recipes for their bodily salvation, absorbed her. But her +exuberant grandmotherliness usually received a check in the summer, +when the babies were deported to scattered sea-shores; and thus it +came to pass that the summer of her death found her still lingering in +London with a bad cold, with only Daniel and little Schnapsie at +hand. And before the others could be called, Mrs. Peyser passed away +in peace, in the old Portsmouth bed, overlooked by the old Hebrew +picture exiled from the London dining-room. + +It was a curious end. She did not know she was dying, but Daniel was +anxious she should not be reft into silence before she had made the +immemorial proclamation of the Unity. At the same time he hesitated to +appall her with the grim knowledge. + +He was blubbering piteously, yet striving to hide his sobs. The early +days of his struggle came back, the first weeks of wedded happiness, +then the long years of progressive prosperity and godly cheerfulness +in Portsmouth ere she had grown fashionable and he unimportant; and a +vast self-pity mingled with his pitiful sense of her excellencies--the +children she had borne him in agony, the economy of her house +management, the good bargains she had driven with the clod-pated +soldiers and sailors, the later splendour of her social achievement. + +And little Schnapsie wept with a sense of the vanity of these dual +existences to which she owed her own empty life. + +Suddenly Mrs. Peyser, over whose black eyes a glaze had been stealing, +let the long dark eyelashes fall over them. + +"Sarah!" whispered Daniel frantically. "Say the Shemang!" + +"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one," said the sensuous +lips obediently. + +Little Schnapsie shrugged her shoulders rebelliously. The dogma seemed +so irrelevant. + +Mrs. Peyser opened her eyes, and a beautiful mother-light came into +them as she saw the weeping girl. + +"Ah, Florrie, do not fret," she said reassuringly, in her long-lapsed +Yiddish. "I will find thee a bridegroom." + +Her eyes closed, and little Schnapsie shuddered with a weird image of +a lover fetched from the shrouded dead. + + +VI + +After his Sarah had been lowered into "The House of Life," and the +excitement of the tombstone recording her virtues had subsided, Daniel +would have withered away in an empty world but for little Schnapsie. +The two kept house together; the same big house that had reeked with +so much feminine life, and about which the odours of perfumes and +powders still seemed to linger. But father and daughter only met at +meals. He spent hours over the morning paper, with the old quaint +delusions about India and other things he read of, and he pottered +about the streets, or wandered into the Beth-Hamidrash, which a local +fanatic had just instituted in North London, and in which, under the +guidance of a Polish sage, Daniel strove to concentrate his aged wits +on the ritual problems of Babylon. At long intervals he brushed his +old-fashioned high hat carefully, and timidly rang the bell of one of +his daughters' mansions, and was permitted to caress a loudly +remonstrating baby; but they all lived so far from him and one another +in this mighty London. From Sylvia's, where there was a boy with +buttons, he had always been frightened off, and when the others began +to emulate her, his visits ceased altogether. As for the sisters +coming to see him, all pleaded overwhelming domestic duty, and the +frigidity of Florence's reception of them. "Now if you lived alone--or +with one of us!" But somehow Daniel felt the latter alternative would +be as desolate as the former. And though he knew some wide vague river +flowed between even his present housemate's life and his own, yet he +felt far more clearly the bridge of love over which their souls passed +to each other. + +Figure then the septuagenarian's amaze when, one fine morning, as he +was shuffling about in his carpet slippers, the servant brought him +word that his six daughters demanded his instantaneous presence in the +drawing-room. + +The shock drove out all thoughts of toilet; his heart beat quicker +with a painful premonition of he knew not what. This simultaneous +visit recalled funerals, weddings. He looked out of a window and saw +four carriages drawn up, and that completed his sense of something +elemental. He tottered into the drawing-room--grown dingy now that it +had no more daughters to dispose of--and shrank before the +resplendence with which their presence reinvested it. They rustled +with silks, shone with gold necklaces, and impregnated the air with +its ancient aroma of powders and perfumes. He felt himself dwindling +before all this pungent prosperity, like some more creative +Frankenstein before a congress of his own monsters. + +They did not rise as he entered. The Jewish group and the pagan group +were promiscuously seated--marriage had broken down all the ancient +landmarks. They all looked about the same agelessness--a standstill +buxom matronhood. + +Daniel stood at the door, glancing from one to another. Some coughed; +others fidgeted with muffs. + +"Sit down, sit down, father," said Rachael kindly, though she retained +the arm-chair,--and there was a general air of relief at her voice. +But the old embarrassment returned as the silence reestablished itself +when Daniel had drooped into a stiff chair. + +At last Leah took the word: "We have come while Florrie is at her +slumming--" + +"At her slumming!" repeated Sylvia, with more significance, and a +meaning smile spread over the six faces. + +"Yes?" Daniel murmured. + +"--Because we did not want her to know of our coming." + +"It concerns Schnapsie?" he murmured. + +"Yes, your little Schnapsie," said Daisy viciously. + +"Yes; she has no time to come and see _us_," cried Rebecca. "But she +has plenty of time for her--_slumming_." + +"Well, she does good," he murmured apologetically. + +"A fat lot of good!" sniggered Rachael. + +"To herself!" corrected Lily. + +"I do not understand," he muttered uneasily. + +"Well--" began Lily. "You tell him, Leah; you know more about it." + +"You know as much as I do." + +He looked appealingly from one to the other. + +"I always said the slums were dangerous places for people of our +class," said Sylvia. "She doesn't even confine herself to her own +people." + +The faces began to lighten--evidently they felt the ice broken. + +"Dangerous!" he repeated, catching at the ominous word. + +"Dreadful!" in a common shudder. + +He half rose. "You have bad news?" he cried. + +The faces gloomed over, the heads nodded. + +"About Schnapsie?" he shrieked, jumping up. + +"Sit down, sit down; she's not dead," said Leah contemptuously. + +He sat down. + +"Well, what is it? What has happened?" + +"She's engaged!" In Leah's mouth the word sounded like a death-bell. + +"Engaged!" he breathed, with a glimmering foreboding of the horror. + +"To a Christian!" said Daisy brutally. + +He sank back, pale and trembling. A tense silence fell on the room. + +"But how? Who?" he murmured at last. + +The girls recovered themselves. Now they were all speaking at once. + +"Another slummer." + +"He's the son of an archdeacon." + +"An awful Christian crank." + +"And that's your pet Schnapsie." + +"If _we_ had wanted Christians, we could have been married twenty +years ago." + +"It's a terrible disgrace for us." + +"She doesn't consider us in the least." + +"She'll be miserable, anyhow. When they quarrel, he'll always throw it +up to her that she's a Jewess." + +"And wouldn't join our Daughters of Mercy committee--had no time." + +"Wasn't going to marry--turned up her nose at all the Jewish young +men!" + +"But she would have told me!" he murmured hopelessly. "I don't believe +it. My little Schnapsie!" + +"Don't believe it?" snorted Leah. "Why, she didn't even deny it." + +"Have you spoken to her, then?" + +"Have we spoken to her! Why, she says Judaism is all nonsense! She +will disgrace us all." + +The blind racial instinct spoke through them--the twenty-five +centuries of tested separateness. But Daniel felt in super-addition +the conscious religious horror. + +"But is she to be married in a Christian church?" he breathed. + +"Oh, she isn't going to marry--yet." + +His poor heart fluttered at the reprieve. + +"She doesn't care a pin for _our_ feelings," went on Leah. "But of +course she won't marry while _you_ are alive." + +Lily took up the thread. "We all told her if she'd only marry a Jew, +we'd all be glad to have you--in turn. But she said it wasn't that. +She could have you herself; her Alfred wouldn't mind. It's the shock +to your religious feelings that keeps her back. She doesn't want to +hurt you." + +"God bless her, my good little Schnapsie!" he murmured. His dazed +brain did not grasp all the bearings, was only conscious of a vast +relief. + +Disgust darkened all the faces. + +He groped to understand it, putting his hand over the white hairs that +straggled from his skull-cap. + +"But then--then it's all right." + +"Yes, all right," said Leah brutally. "But for how long?" + +Her meaning seized him like an icy claw upon his heart. For the first +time in his life he realized the certainty of death, and +simultaneously with the certainty its imminence. + +"We want you to put a stop to it _now_," said Sylvia. "For our sakes +make her promise that even when-- You're the only one who has any +influence over her." + +She rose, as if to wind up the painful interview, and the others rose, +too, with a multiplex rustling of silken skirts. He shook the six +jewelled hands as in a dream, and promised to do his best; and as he +watched the little procession of carriages roll off, it seemed to him +indeed a funeral, and his own. + + +VII + +Ah God, that it should have come to this. Little Schnapsie could not +be happy till he was dead. Well, why should he keep her waiting? What +mattered the few odd years or months? He was already dead. There was +his funeral going down the street. + +To speak to Schnapsie he had never intended, even while he was +promising it. Those years of silent life together had made real +conversation impossible. The bridge on which his soul passed over to +hers was a bridge over which hung a sacred silence. Under the weight +of words, especially of angry parental words, it might break down +forever. And that would be worse than death. + +No; little Schnapsie had her own life, and he somehow knew he had not +the right to question it, even though it seemed on the verge of deadly +sin. He could not have expressed it in logical speech, was not even +clearly conscious of it; but his tender relation with her had educated +him to a sense of her moral rightness, which now survived and +subsisted with his conviction that she was hopelessly astray. No, he +had not the right to interfere with her life, with her prospect of +happiness in her own way. He must give up living. Little Schnapsie +must be nearly thirty; the best of her youth was gone. She should be +happy with this strange man. + +But if he killed himself, that would bring disgrace on the family--and +little Schnapsie. Perhaps, too, Alfred would not marry her. Was there +no way of slipping quietly out of existence? But then suicide was +another deadly sin. If only that had really been his funeral +procession! + +"O God, God of Israel, tell me what to do!" + + +VIII + +A sudden inspiration leapt to his heart. She should not have to wait +for his death to be happy; he would _live_ to see her happy. He would +pretend that her marriage cost him no pang; indeed, would not truly +the pang be swallowed up in the thought of her happiness? But _would_ +she be happy? _Could_ she be happy with this alien? Ah, there was the +chilling doubt! If a quarrel came, would not the man always throw it +in her face that she was a Jewess? Well, that must be left to herself. +She was old enough not to rush into misery. Through all these years he +had taken her pensive brow as the seat of all wisdom, her tender eyes +as the glow of all goodness, and he could not suddenly readjust +himself to a contradictory conception. By the time she came in he had +composed himself for his task. + +"Ah, my dear," he said, with a beaming smile, "I have heard the good +news." + +The answering smile died out of her eyes. She looked frightened. + +"It's all right, little Schnapsie," he said roguishly. "So now I shall +have seven sons-in-law. And Alfred the Second, eh?" + +"You have heard?" + +"Yes," he said, pinching her ear. "Thinks she can keep anything from +her old father, does she?" + +"But do you know that he is a--a--" + +"A Christian? Of course. What's the difference, as long as he's a good +man, eh?" He laughed noisily. + +Little Schnapsie looked more frightened than ever. Were her father's +wits wandering at last? + +"But I thought--" + +"Thought I would want you to sacrifice yourself! No, no, my dear; we +are not in India, where women are burnt alive to please their dead +husbands." + +Little Schnapsie had an irrelevant vision of herself treading on +diamonds and gold. She murmured, "Who told you?" + +"Leah." + +"Leah! But Leah is angry about it!" + +"So she is. She came to me in a tantrum, but I told her whatever +little Schnapsie did was right." + +"Father!" With a sudden cry of belief and affection she fell on his +neck and kissed him. "But isn't the darling old Jew shocked?" she +said, half smiling, half weeping. + +Cunning lent him clairvoyance. "How much Judaism is there in your +sisters' husbands?" he said. "And without the religion, what is the +use of the race?" + +"Why, father, that's what I'm always preaching!" she cried, in +astonishment. "Think what our Judaism was in the dear old Portsmouth +days. What is the Sabbath here? A mockery. Not one of your sons-in-law +closes his business. But there, when the Sabbath came in, how +beautiful! Gradually it glided, glided; you heard the angel's wings. +Then its shining presence was upon you, and a holy peace settled over +the house." + +"Yes, yes." His eyes filled with tears. He saw the row of innocent +girl faces at the white Sabbath table. What had London and prosperity +brought him instead? + +"And then the Atonement days, when the ram's horn thrilled us with a +sense of sin and judgment, when we thought the heavenly scrolls were +being signed and sealed. Who feels that here, father? Some of us don't +even fast." + +"True, true." He forgot his part. "Then you are a good Jewess still?" + +She shook her head sadly. "We have outlived our destiny. Our isolation +is a meaningless relic." + +But she had kindled a new spark of hope. + +"Can't you bring him over to us?" + +"To what? To our empty synagogues?" + +"Then you are going over to him?" He tried to keep his voice steady. + +"I must; his father is an archdeacon." + +"I know, I know," he said, though she might as well have said an +archangel. + +"But you do not believe in--in--" + +"I believe in self-sacrifice; that is Christianity." + +"Is it? I thought it was three Gods." + +"That is not the essential." + +"Thank God!" he said. Then he added hurriedly: "But will you be happy +with him? Such different bringing up! You can't really feel close to +him." + +She laughed and blushed. "There are deeper things than one's bringing +up, father." + +"But if after marriage you should have a quarrel, he would always +throw up to you that you are a Jewess." + +"No, Alfred will never do that." + +"Then make haste, little Schnapsie, or your old father won't live to +see you under the canopy." + +She smiled happily, believing him. "But there won't be any canopy," +she said. + +"Well, well, whatever it is," he laughed back, with horrid imagining +that it might be a Cross. + + +IX + +It was agreed between them that, to avoid endless family councils, the +sisters should not be told, and that the ceremony should be conducted +as privately as possible. The archdeacon himself was coming up to town +to perform the ceremony in the church of another of his sons in Chalk +Farm. After the short honeymoon, Daniel was to come and live with the +couple in Whitechapel, for they were to live in the centre of their +labours. Poor Daniel tried to find some comfort in the thought that +Whitechapel was a more Jewish and a homelier quarter than Highbury. +But the unhomely impression produced upon him by his latest son-in-law +neutralized everything. All his other sons-in-law had more or less +awed him, but beneath the awe ran a tunnel of brotherhood. With this +Alfred, however, he was conscious of a glacial current, which not all +the young man's cordiality could tepefy. + +"Are you sure you will be happy with him, little Schnapsie?" he asked +anxiously. + +"You dear worrying old thing!" + +"But if after marriage you quarrel, he will always throw it up to you +that you are--" + +"And I'll throw it up to him that he is a Christian, and oughtn't to +quarrel." + +He was silenced. But his heart thanked God that his dear old wife had +been spared the coming ordeal. + +"This too was for good," he murmured, in the Hebrew proverb. + +And so the tragic day drew nigh. + + +X + +One short week before, Daniel was wandering about, dazed by the near +prospect. An unholy fascination drew him toward Chalk Farm, to gaze on +the church in which the profane union would be perpetrated. Perhaps he +ought even to go inside; to get over his first horror at being in such +a building, so as not to betray himself during the actual ceremony. + +As he drew near the heathen edifice he saw a striped awning, +carriages, a bustle of people entering, a pressing, peeping crowd. A +wedding! + +Ah, good! There was no doubt now he must go in; he would see what this +unknown ceremony in this unknown building was like. It would be a sort +of rehearsal; it would help to steel him at the tragic moment. He was +passing through the central doors with some other men, but a policeman +motioned them to a side door. He shuffled timidly within. + +Full as the church was, the chill stone spaces struck cold to his +heart; all the vast alien life they typified froze his soul. The dread +word _Meshumad_--apostate--seemed echoing and reechoing from the cold +pillars. He perceived his companions had bared their heads, and he +hastily snatched off his rusty beaver. The unaccustomed sensation in +his scalp completed his sense of unholiness. + +Nothing seemed going on yet, but as he slipped into a seat in the +aisle he became aware of an organ playing joyous preludes, almost +jiggish. For a moment he wondered dully what there was to be gay +about, and his eyes filled with bitter tears. + +A craning forward in the nondescript congregation made the old man +peer forward. + +He saw, at the far end of the church, a sort of platform upon which +four men, in strange, flowing robes, stood under a cross. He hid his +eyes from the sight of the symbol that had overshadowed his ancestors' +lives. When he opened his eyes again the men were kneeling. Would _he_ +have to kneel, he wondered. Would his old joints have to assume that +pagan posture? Presently four bridesmaids, shielded by great glowing +bouquets, appeared on the platform, and descending, passed with +measured theatric pace down the farther avenue, too remote for his +clear vision. His neighbours stood up to stare at them, and he rose, +too. And throughout the organ bubbled out its playful cadenzas. + +A stir and a buzz swept through the church. A procession began to file +in. At its head was a pale, severe young man, supported by a cheerful +young man. Other young men followed; then the bridesmaids reappeared. +And finally--target of every glance--there passed a glory of white +veil supported by an old military looking man in a satin waistcoat. + +Ah, that would be he and Schnapsie, then. Up that long avenue, beneath +all these curious Christian eyes, he, Daniel Peyser, would have to +walk. He tried to rehearse it mentally now, so that he might not shame +her; he paced pompously and stiffly, with beautiful Schnapsie on his +arm, a glory of white veil. He saw himself slowly reaching the +platform, under the chilling cross; then everything swam before him, +and he sank shuddering into his seat. His little Schnapsie! She was +being sucked up into all this hateful heathendom, to the seductive +music of satanic orchestras. + +He sat in a strange daze, vaguely conscious that the organ had ceased, +and that some preacher's recitative had begun instead. When he looked +up again, the bridal party before the altar loomed vague, as through +a mist. He passed his hand over his clouded brow. Of a sudden a +sentence of the recitative pierced sharply to his brain:-- + +"Therefore if any man can show any just cause why they may not +lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter +forever hold his peace." + +O God of Israel! Then it was the last chance! He sprang to his feet, +and shouted in agony: "No, no, she must not marry him! She must not!" + +All heads turned toward the shabby old man. An electric shiver ran +through the church. The bride paled; a bridesmaid shrieked; the +minister, taken aback, stood silent. A white-gloved usher hurried up. + +"Do you forbid the banns?" called the minister. + +The old man's mind awoke, and groped mistily. + +"Come, what have you to say?" snapped the usher. + +"I--I--nothing," he murmured in awed confusion. + +"He is drunk," said the usher. "Out with you, my man." He hustled +Daniel toward the side door, and let it swing behind him. + +But Daniel shrank from facing the cordon of spectators outside. He +hung miserably about the vestibule till the Wedding March swelled in +ironic triumph, and the human outpour swept him into the street. + + +XI + +His abstracted look, his ragged talk, troubled Schnapsie at the +evening meal, but she could not elicit that anything had happened. + +In the evening paper, her eye, avid of marriage items, paused on a +big-headed paragraph. + + "I FORBID THE BANNS!" + STRANGE SCENE AT A CHALK FARM CHURCH. + +When she had finished the paragraph and read another, the first began +to come back to her, shadowed with a strange suspicion. Why, this was +the very church--? A Jewish-looking old man--! Great heavens! Then all +this had been mere pose, self-sacrifice. And his wits were straying +under the too heavy burden! Only blind craving for her own happiness +could have made her believe that the mental habits of seventy years +could be broken off. + +"Well, father," she said brightly, "you will be losing me very soon +now." + +His lips quivered into a pathetic smile. + +"I am very glad." He paused, struggling with himself. "If you are sure +you will be happy!" + +"But haven't we talked that over enough, father?" + +"Yes--but you know--if a quarrel arose, he would always throw it +up--that--" + +"Nonsense, nonsense," she laughed. But the repetition of the old +thought struck her poignantly as a sign of maundering wits. + +"And you are sure you will get along together?" + +"Quite sure." + +"Then I am glad." He drew her to him, and kissed her. + +She broke down and wept under the conviction of his lying. He became +the comforter in his turn. + +"Don't cry, little Schnapsie, don't cry. I didn't mean to frighten +you. Alfred is a good man, and I am sure, even if you quarrel, he will +never throw it--" The mumbling passed into a kiss on her wet cheek. + + +XII + +That night, after a long passionate vigil in her bedroom, little +Schnapsie wrote a letter:-- + + "DEAREST ALFRED,--This will be as painful for you to read as for + me to write. I find at the eleventh hour I cannot marry you. I + owe it to you to state my reason. As you know, I did not consent + to our love being crowned by union till my father had given his + consent. I now find that this consent was not the free outcome + of my father's soul, that it was only to promote my happiness. + Try to imagine what it means for an old man of seventy odd years + to wrench himself away from all his life-long prejudices, and + you will realize what he has been trying to do for me. But the + wrench was beyond his strength. He is breaking his heart over + it, and, I fear, even wandering in his mind. + + "You will say, let us again consent to wait for a contingency + which I am not cold-blooded enough to set down more openly. But + I do not think it is fair to you to let you risk your happiness + further by keeping it entangled with mine. A new current of + thought has been set going in my mind. If a religion that I + thought all formalism is capable of producing such types of + abnegation as my dear father, then it must, too, somewhere or + other, hold in solution all those ennobling ingredients, all + those stimuli to self-sacrifice, which the world calls + Christian. Perhaps I have always misunderstood. We were so badly + taught. Perhaps the prosaic epoch of Judaism into which I was + born is only transitional, perhaps it only belongs to the middle + classes, for I know I felt more of its poetry in my childhood; + perhaps the future will develop (or recultivate) its diviner + sides and lay more stress upon the life beautiful, and thus all + this blind instinct of isolation may prove only the conservation + of the race for its nobler future, when it may still become, in + very truth, a witness to the Highest, a chosen people in whom + all the families of the earth may be blessed. I do not know; all + this is very confused and chaotic to me to-night. I only know I + can hold out no certain hope of the earthly fulfilment of our + love. I, too, feel in transition, and I know not to what. But, + dearest Alfred, shall we not be living the Christian life--the + life of abnegation--more truly if we give up the hope of + personal happiness? Forgive me, darling, the pain I am causing + you, and thus help me to bear my own. + + "Your friend till death, + "FLORENCE." + +It was an hour past midnight ere the letter was finished, and when it +was sealed a sense of relief at remaining in the Jewish fold stole +over her, though she would scarcely acknowledge it to herself, and +impatiently analyzed it away as hereditary. And despite it, if she +slept on the letter, would it ever be posted? + +But the house was sunk in darkness. She was the only creature +stirring. And yet she yearned to have the thing over, irrevocable. +Perhaps she might venture out herself with her latch-key. There was a +letter-box at the street corner. She lit a candle and stole out on the +landing, casting a monstrous shadow which frightened her. In her +over-wrought mood it almost seemed an uncanny creature grinning at +her. Her mother's death-bed rose suddenly before her; her mother's +voice cried: "Ah, Florrie, do not fret. I will find thee a +bridegroom." Was this the bridegroom--was this the only one she would +ever know? + +"Father! father!" she shrieked, with sudden terror. + +A door was thrown open; a figure shambled forth in carpet slippers--a +dear, homely, reassuring figure--holding the coloured handkerchief +which had helped to banish him from the drawing-room. His face was +smeared; his eyelids under the pushed-up horn spectacles were red: he, +too, had kept vigil. + +"What is it? What is it, little Schnapsie?" + +"Nothing. I--I--I only wanted to ask you if you would be good enough +to post this letter--to-night." + +"Good enough? Why, I shall enjoy a breath of air." + +He took the letter and essayed a roguish laugh as his eye caught the +superscription. + +"Ho! ho!" He pinched her cheek. "So we mustn't let a day pass without +writing to him, eh?" + +She quivered under this unforeseen misconception. + +"No," she echoed, with added firmness, "we mustn't let a day pass." + +"But go to bed at once, little Schnapsie. You look quite pale. If you +stay up so late writing him letters, you won't make him a beautiful +bride." + +"No," she repeated, "I won't make him a beautiful bride." + +She heard the hall door close gently upon his cautious footsteps, and +her eyes dimmed with divine tears as she thought of the joy that +awaited his return. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +III + +NOAH'S ARK + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +III + +NOAH'S ARK + + +I + +On a summer's day toward the close of the first quarter of the +nineteenth century after Christ, Peloni walked in "the good place" of +the Frankfort _Judengasse_ and pondered. At times he came to a +standstill and appeared to study the inscriptions on the tumbled +tombstones, or the carven dragons, shields, and stars, but his black +eyes burnt inward and he saw less the tragedy of Jewish death than the +tragedy of Jewish life. + +For "the good place" was the place of death. + +Here alone in Frankfort--in this shut-in bit of the shut-in +Jew-street--was true peace for Israel. The rest of the Jew-street +offered comparative tranquillity even for the living; yet when, ninety +years before Peloni was born, the great fire had raged therein, the +inhabitants had locked the Ghetto-gate against the Christians, less +fearful of the ravaging flames than of their fellow-citizens. Even +to-day, if he ventured outside the _Judengasse_, Peloni must tread +delicately. The foot-path was not for him: he must plod on the dusty +road, with all the other beasts. In some places the very road was too +holy for him, and any passer-by might snatch off his hat in punishment +for his breaking bounds. The ragged street urchin or the staggering +drunkard might cry to him "_'Jud,' mach mores_: Jew, mind your +manners." + +Some ten years ago the Frankfort Ghetto had been verbally abolished by +a civilized archduke, caught up in the wave of Napoleonic toleration. +Peloni had shared in the exultation of the Jews at the final +dissipation of the long night of mediaevalism. He had written a Hebrew +poem on it, brilliantly rhymed, congested with apt quotations from +Bible and Talmud, the whole making an acrostic upon the name of the +enlightened Karl Theodor von Dalberg. Henceforth Israel would take his +place among the peoples, honour on his brow, love in his heart, +manhood in his limbs. A gracious letter of acknowledgment from the +archduke was displayed in the window of Peloni's little bookselling +establishment, amid the door-amulets, phylacteries, praying-shawls, +Purim-scrolls, and Hebrew volumes. + +But now the prince had been ousted, Napoleon was dead, everywhere the +Ghetto-gates were locked again, and the Poem lay stacked on the +remainder shelves. In vain had the grateful Jews hastened to fight for +the Fatherland, tendered it body and soul. Poor little curly-haired +Peloni had been attacked in the streets as an alien that very morning. +Roysterers had raised the old cry of "Hep! Hep!"--fatal, immemorial +cry, ghastly heritage of the Crusades. Century after century that cry +had gone echoing through Europe. Century after century the Jews +thought they had lived it down, bought it down, died it down. But no! +it rose again, buoyant, menacing, irresponsible. Ah, what a fool he +had been to hope! There was no hope. + +Rarely, indeed, since the Dark Ages had persecution flaunted itself so +openly. Riots and massacres were breaking out all over Germany, and in +his own Ghetto Peloni had seen sights that had turned his patriotism +to gall, and crushed his trust in the Christian, his beautiful +bubble-dreams of the Millennium. Rothschild himself, whose house in +the _Judengasse_ with the sign of the red shield had been the centre +of the attack, was well-nigh unable to maintain his position in the +town. And these local successes inflamed the Jew-haters everywhere. +"Let the children of Israel be sold to the English," recommended a +popular pamphlet of the period, "who could employ them in their Indian +plantations instead of the blacks. The best plan would be to purge the +land entirely of this vermin, either by exterminating them, or, as +Pharaoh, and the people of Meiningen, Wuerzburg, and Frankfort did, by +driving them from the country." + +"Oh, God!" thought Peloni, as his mind ran over the long chain from +Pharaoh to Frankfort. "Evermore to wander, stoned and derided! Thou +hast set a mark on his forehead, but his punishment is greater than he +can bear." + +The dead lay all around him, one upon another, new red stones +shouldering aside the gray stones that told to boot of the death of +the centuries. And the pressure of all this struggle for death-room +had raised the earth higher than the adjacent paths. He thought of how +these dead had always come here; even in their lifetime, when the +enemy raged outside. Here they had put the women and children and gone +back to the synagogue to pray. Ah, the cowards! always oscillating +betwixt cemetery and synagogue, why did they not live, why did they +not fight? Yes, but they had fought,--fought for Germany, and this was +Germany's reply. + +But could they not fight for themselves then, with money, with the +sinews of war, if not with the weapons; with gold, if not with steel? +could they not join financial forces all through the world? But no! +There was no such solidarity as the Christians dreamed. And they were +too mixed up with the European world to dream of self-concentration. +Even while the Frankfort Rothschild's house was surrounded by rioters, +the Paris Rothschild was giving a ball to the _elite_ of diplomatic +society. + +No! the old Jews were right--there was only the synagogue and the +cemetery. + +But was there even the synagogue? That, too, was dead. The living +faith, the vivid realization of Israel's hope, which had made the Dark +Ages endurable and even luminous, were only to be found now among +fanatics whose blind ignorance and fierce clinging to the dead letter +and the obsolete form counterbalanced the poetry and sublimity of +their persistence. In the Middle Ages, Peloni felt, his poems would +have been absorbed into the liturgy. For when the liturgy and the +religion were alive, they took in and gave out--like all living +things. But no--the synagogue of to-day was dead. + +Remained only the cemetery. + +"_Jude, verrek!_" Jew, die like a beast. + +Yes, what else was there to do? For he was not even a Rothschild, he +told himself with whimsical anguish; only a poor poet, unread, +unknown, unhealthy; a shadow that only found substance to suffer; a +set of heart-strings across which every wind that blew made a +poignant, passionate music; a lamentation incarnate, a voice of +weeping in the wilderness, a bubble blown of tears, a dream, a mist, a +nobody,--in short, Peloni! + +The dead generations drew him. He fell, weeping passionately, upon a +tomb. + + +II + +There seemed an unwonted stir in the _Judengasse_ when Peloni returned +to it. Was there another riot threatening? he thought, as he passed +along the narrow street of three-storied frame houses, most of them +gabled, and all marked by peculiar signs and figures--the Bear or the +Lion or the Garlic or the Red Shield (_Rothschild_)! + +Outside the synagogue loitered a crowd, and as he drew near he +perceived that there was a long Proclamation in a couple of folio +sheets nailed on the door. It was doubtless this which was being +discussed by the little groups he had already noted. About the +synagogue door the throng was so thick that he could not get near +enough to read it himself. But fortunately some one was engaged in +reading it aloud for the benefit of those on the outskirts. + +"'Wherefore I, Mordecai Manuel Noah, Citizen of the United States of +America, late Consul of said States to the City and Kingdom of Tunis, +High Sheriff of New York, Counsellor-at-Law, and by the Grace of God +Governor and Judge of Israel, have issued this my proclamation.'" + +A derisive laugh from a dwarfish figure in the crowd interrupted the +reading. "Father Noah come to life again!" It was the _Possemacher_, +or wedding-jester, who was not sparing of his wit, even when not +professionally engaged. + +"A foreigner--an American!" sneered a more serious voice. "Who made +him ruler in Israel?" + +"That's what the wicked Israelite asked Moses!" cried Peloni, +curiously excited. + +"_Nun, nun!_ Go on!" cried others. + +"'Announcing to the Jews throughout the world, that an asylum is +prepared and hereby offered to them, where they can enjoy that Peace, +Comfort, and Happiness which have been denied them through the +intolerance and misgovernment of former ages. An asylum in a free and +powerful country, where ample protection is secured to their persons, +their property, and religious rights; an asylum in a country +remarkable for its vast resources, the richness of its soil, and the +salubrity of its climate; where industry is encouraged, education +promoted, and good faith rewarded. "A land of Milk and Honey," where +Israel may repose in Peace, under his "Vine and Fig tree," and where +our People may so familiarize themselves with the science of +government and the lights of learning and civilization, as may qualify +them for that great and final Restoration to their ancient heritage, +which the times so powerfully indicate.'" + +The crowd had grown attentive. Peloni's face was pale as death. What +was this great thing, fallen so unexpectedly from the impassive heaven +his hopelessness had challenged? + +But the _Possemacher_ captured the moment. "Father Noah's drunk +again!" + +A great laugh shook the crowd. But Peloni dug his nails into his +palms. "Read on! Read on!" he cried hoarsely. + +"'The Place of Refuge is in the State of New York, the largest in the +American Union, and the spot to which I invite my beloved People from +the whole world is called Grand Island.'" + +Peloni drew a deep breath. His face had now changed to the other +extreme and was flushed with excitement. + +"Noah's Ark!" shot the _Possemacher_ dryly, and had his audience +swaying hysterically. + +"For God's sake, brethren!" cried Peloni. "This is no joke. Have you +forgotten already that here we are only animals?" + +"And they went in two by two," said the _Possemacher_, "the clean +beasts, and the unclean beasts!" + +"Hush, hush, let us hear!" from some of the crowd. + +"'Here I am resolved to lay the foundation of a State, named Ararat.'" + +"Ah! what did I say?" the exultant _Possemacher_ shrieked at Peloni. + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the crowd. "Noah's Ark resting on Ararat!" The +dullest saw that. + +Peloni was taken aback for a moment. + +"But why should not the place of Israel's Ark of Refuge be named +Ararat?" he asked of his neighbours. + +"If only his name wasn't Noah!" they answered. + +"That makes it even more appropriate," he murmured. + +But "Noah's Ark" was the nickname that kills. Though the reader +continued, it was only to an audience exhilarated by a sense of +Arabian Nights fantasy. But the elaborate description of the grandeurs +of this Grand Island, and the eloquent passages about the Century of +Right, and the ancient Oracles, restored Peloni's enthusiasm to fever +heat. + +"It is too long," said the reader, wearying at last. + +Peloni rushed forward and took up the task. The first sentence exalted +him still further. + +"'In God's name I revive, renew, and reestablish the government of the +Jewish Nation, under the auspices and protection of the Constitution +and the Laws of the United States, confirming and perpetuating all our +Rights and Privileges, our Name, our Rank, and our Power among the +nations of the Earth, as they existed and were recognized under the +government of the Judges of Israel.'" Peloni's voice shook with +fervour. As he began the next sentence, "'It is my will,'" he +stretched out his hand with an involuntary regal gesture. The spirit +of Noah was entering into him, and he felt almost as if it was he who +was re-creating the Jewish nation--"'It is my will that a Census of +the Jews throughout the world be taken, that those who are well +treated and wish to remain in their respective countries shall aid +those who wish to go; that those who are in military service shall +until further orders remain true and loyal to their rulers. + +"'I command'"--Peloni read the words with expansive magnificence, his +poet's soul vibrating to that other royal dreamer's across the great +Atlantic--"'that a strict Neutrality be maintained in the pending war +betwixt Greece and Turkey. + +"'I abolish forever'"--Peloni's hand swept the air,--"'Polygamy among +the Jews.'" + +"But where have we polygamy?" interrupted the _Possemacher_. + +"'As it is still practised in Africa and Asia,'" read on Peloni +severely. + +"I'm off at once for Africa and Asia!" cried the marriage-jester, +pretending to run. "Good business for me there." + +"You'll find better business in America," said Peloni scathingly. "For +do not all our Austrian young men fly thither to marry, seeing that at +home only the eldest son may found a family? A pretty fatherland +indeed to be a citizen of--a step-fatherland. Listen, on the contrary, +to the noble tolerance of the Jew. 'Christians are freely invited.'" + +"Ah! Do you know who'll go?" broke in a narrow-faced zealot. "The +missionaries." + +Peloni continued hastily: "'Ararat is open, too, to the Caraites and +the Samaritans. The Black Jews of India and Africa shall be welcome; +our brethren in Cochin-China and the sect on the coast of Malabar; all +are welcome.'" + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed a burly Jew. "So we're to live with the blacks. +Enough of this joke!" + +But Peloni went on solemnly: "'A Capitation-tax on every Jew of Three +Silver Shekels per annum--'" + +"Ah, now we have got to it!" and a great roar broke from the crowd. +"Not a bad _Geschaeft_, eh?" and they winked. "He is no fool, this +Noah." + +Peloni's blood boiled. "Do you believe everybody is like yourselves?" +he cried. "Listen!" + +"'I do appoint the first day of next Adar for a Thanksgiving Day to +the God of Israel, for His divine protection and the fulfilment of His +promises to the House of Israel. I recommend Peace and Union among +ourselves, Charity and Good-will to all, Toleration and Liberality +toward our Brethren of all Religions--'" + +"Didn't I say a missionary in disguise?" murmured the zealot. + +Peloni ended, with tremulous emotion: "'I humbly entreat to be +remembered in your prayers, and earnestly do I enjoin you to "keep the +charge of the Holy God," to walk in His ways, to keep His Statutes and +His commandments and His judgments and Testimonies, as written in the +Laws of Moses; "that thou mayest prosper in all thou doest and +whithersoever thou turnest thyself." + +"'Given under our hand and seal in the State of New York, on the 2d of +Ab 5586 in the Fiftieth Year of American Independence.'" + + * * * * * + +Peloni's efforts to organize a company of pilgrims to the New +Jerusalem brought him only heart-ache. The very rabbi who had +good-naturedly consented to circulate the fantastic foreigner's +invitation, tapped his forehead significantly: "A visionary! of good +intentions, doubtless, but still--a visionary. Besides, according to +our dogmas, God alone knows the epoch of the Israelitish restoration; +He alone will make it known to the whole universe, by signs entirely +unequivocal; and every attempt on our part to reassemble with any +political, national design, is forbidden as an act of high treason +against the Divine Majesty. Mr. Noah has doubtless forgotten that the +Israelites, faithful to the principles of their belief, are too much +attached to the countries where they dwell, and devoted to the +governments under which they enjoy liberty and protection, not to +treat as a mere jest the chimerical consulate of a pseudo-restorer." + +"Noah's a madman, and you're an infant," Peloni's friends told him. + +"Since the destruction of the Temple," he quoted in retort, "the gift +of prophecy has been confined to children and fools." + +"You are giving up a decent livelihood," they warned him. "You are +throwing it into the Atlantic." + +"'Cast thy bread upon the waters and it shall return to thee after +many days.'" + +"But in the meantime?" + +"'Man doth not live by bread alone.'" + +"As you please. But don't ask _us_ to throw up our comfortable home +here." + +"Comfortable home!" and Peloni grew almost apoplectic as he reminded +them of their miseries. + +"Persecution?" They shrugged their shoulders. "It comes only now and +again, like a snow-storm, and we crawl through it." + +"That's just it--the lack of manliness--the poisoned atmosphere!" + +"Bah! The _Goyim_ refuse us equal rights because they know we're their +superiors. Let us not jump from the frying-pan into the fire." + +So Peloni sailed for New York alone. + + +III + +He was rather disappointed to find no other pilgrim even on the ship. +True, there was one Jew, but the business Paradise of New York was his +goal across this waste of waters, and of Noah's Ark he had never +heard. Peloni's panegyric of Grand Island was rendered ineffective by +his own nebulous conception of its commercial possibilities. He passed +the slow days in the sailing-vessel polishing up his English, the +literature of which he had long studied. + +In New York Peloni's hopes revived. Major Noah--for it appeared he +was an officer of militia likewise--was in everybody's mouth. Editor +of the _National Advocate_, the leading organ of the Bucktails, or +Tammany party, a journalist whose clever sallies and humorous +paragraphs were widely enjoyed, an author of excellent "Travels," a +playwright of the first distinction, whose patriotic dramas were +always given on the Fourth of July, a critic regarded as Sir Oracle, a +politician, lawyer, and man of the world, a wit, the gay centre of +every gathering--surely in this lion of New York, who was also the +Lion of David, Israel had at last found a deliverer. They called him +madman down in Frankfort, did they? Well, let them come here and see. + +He wrote home to the scoffers of the _Judengasse_ all the information +about the great man that was in the very air of the American city, +though the man himself he had only as yet corresponded with. He told +the famous story of how when Noah was canvassing for the office of +High Sheriff of New York, it was urged that no Jew should be put into +an office where he might have to hang a Christian, to which Noah had +retorted wittily, "Pretty Christian, to have to be hanged!" "And you +all fancied 'Father Noah' would fall to pieces before the +_Possemacher's_ wit!" Peloni commented with vengeful satisfaction. "I +rejoice to say that Noah will never have anything to do with a +_Possemacher_, for he is President of the Old Bachelors' Club, the +members of which are pledged never to marry." He told of Noah's +adventurous career: of how when he was a mere boy clerk in the +auditor's office of his native Philadelphia, Congress had voted him a +hundred dollars for his precocious preparation of the actuary tables +for the eight-per-cent loan; of the three duels at Charleston, in +which he had vindicated at once the courage of the Jew and the policy +of American resistance to Great Britain; of his consulate in Tunis, +his capture at sea by the British fleet during the war, his release on +parole that enabled him to travel about England; of his genius for +letters--a very David in Israel; of his generosity to hundreds of +strugglers; of his quixotic disdain of money; of his impoverishing +himself by paying two hundred thousand dollars of other people's debts +as the price of his impulsive shrieval action in throwing open the +doors of the Debtor's Jail when the yellow fever broke out within. +"Yes," wrote Peloni exultantly, "in New York they talk no more of +Shylock. And with all the temptations to Christian fellowship or Pagan +free-living, a pillar of the synagogue,--nay, Israel's one hope in all +the world!" + +It was a wonderful moment when Peloni, at last invited to call on the +Judge of Israel, palpitated on the threshold of his study and gazed +blinkingly at the great man enthroned before his writing-table amid +elegant vistas of books and paintings. What a noble poetic vision it +seemed to him: the broad brow, with the tumbled hair; the long, +delicate-featured face tapering to a narrow chin environed with +whiskers, but clean of beard or even of mustache, so that the mobile, +sensitive mouth was laid bare. Peloni's glance also took in a handsome +black coat, with a decoration on the lapel, a high-peaked collar, a +black puffy bow, a frilled shirt, and a very broad jewelled cuff over +a white, long-fingered hand, that held a tall quill with a great +breadth of feather. + +"Ah, come in," said the Governor of Israel, waving his quill. "You are +Peloni of Frankfort." + +"Come three thousand miles to kiss the hem of your garment." + +Noah permitted the attention. "I am obliged to you for your Hebrew +poem in honour of my project," he said urbanely. "I approve of +Hebrew--it is a link that binds us to our forefathers. I am myself +editing a translation of the Book of Jasher." + +"You will have found my verses a very poor expression of your divine +ideas." + +"You use a difficult Hebrew. But the general drift seemed to show you +had caught the greatness of my conception." + +"Ah, yes! I have lived in _Judengasse_, oppressed and derided." + +"But there is worse than oppression--there is inward stagnation of the +spiritual life. My idea came to me in Tunis, where the Jews are little +oppressed. You know President Madison appointed me consul of the +United States for the city and kingdom of Tunis, one of the most +respectable and interesting stations in the regencies of Barbary. I +had long desired to visit the country of Dido and Hannibal, to trace +the field of Zama, and seek out the ruins of Utica,--whose sites I +believe I have now successfully established,--but it was my main +design to investigate the condition of the Barbary Jews, of whom, you +will remember, we have no account later than Benjamin of Tudela's in +the thirteenth century. But do not stand--take a chair. Well, I found +our brethren--to the number of seven hundred thousand--controlling +everything in Barbary, farming the revenue, regulating the coinage, +keeping the Dey's jewels and almost his person,--in short, anything +but persecuted, though, of course, the majority were miserably poor. +They did not know I was a Jew--though Secretary Monroe recalled me +because I was, and it was Monroe's doctrine that Judaism would be an +obstacle to the discharge of my functions. Absurd! The Catholic priest +was allowed to sprinkle the Consulate with holy water: the barefooted +Franciscan received an alms, nor did I fail to acknowledge by a +donation the decorated branch sent on Palm Sunday by the Greek Bishop. +And as for the slaves, I assure you they were not backward in coming +to ask favours. The only people who never came to me were precisely +the Jews. I went about among them incognito, so to speak, like Haroun +Alraschid among his subjects; hence I was able to see all the evils +that will never be eliminated till Israel is again a nation." + +"Ah! your words are the words of wisdom. You touch the root of the +evil. It is what I have always told them." + +Noah rose to his feet, displaying a royal stature in harmony with his +broad shoulders. "Yes, I resolved it should be mine to elevate my +people, to make them hold up their heads worthily in this century of +freedom and enlightenment." + +"It is the Ark of the Convenant, as well as of the Deluge, which will +rest on Ararat!" + +"True--and like the first Noah, I may become the progenitor of a new +world. I have communications from the four corners of the earth. You +are the type of thousands who will flee from the rotting tyrannies of +Europe into the great free republic which I shall direct." + +He began to pace the room. Peloni had visions of great black lines of +pilgrims converging from every quarter of the compass. + +"But this Grand Island--is it yours?" he inquired timidly. + +"I have bought thousands of acres of it--I and a few others who +believe in the great future of our people." + +"Jews?" + +"No, not Jews--capitalists who know that we shall become the +commercial centre of the new world,--that is, of the world of the +future." + +Peloni groaned. "And Jews will not believe? We must go to the +Gentiles. Jews will only put their money into Gentile schemes; will +build always for others, never for themselves. It is the same +everywhere. Alas for Israel!" + +"It is what I preach. Why administer Barbary for a savage Dey when you +can administer Grand Island for yourself? Seven hundred thousand Jews +in savage Barbary, and throughout these vast free States not seven +thousand. Ah, but they will come; they will come. Ararat will gather +its millions." + +"But will there be room?" + +"The State of New York," replied Noah, impressively, "is the largest +in the Union, containing forty-three thousand two hundred and fourteen +square miles divided into fifty-five counties and having six thousand +and eighty-seven post-towns and cities together with six million acres +of cultivated land. The constitution is founded on equality of rights. +We recognize no religious differences. In our seven thousand free +schools and gymnasia, four hundred thousand children of every religion +are being educated. Here in this great and progressive State the long +wandering of my beloved people shall end." + +"But Grand Island itself?" murmured Peloni feebly. + +"Come here," and Noah unrolled a great map. "See, how nobly it is +situated in the Niagara River, near the world-famed Falls, which will +supply water-power for our machinery. It is twelve miles long and from +three to seven broad, and contains seventeen thousand acres. Lake Erie +is two hundred and seventy miles long and borders New York, +Pennsylvania, and Ohio, as well as Canada. And see! by navigable +streams this great lake is connected with all that wonderful chain of +lakes. By short canals we shall connect with the Illinois and +Mississippi, and trade with New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico. +Through the Ontario--see here!--we traffic with Quebec, Montreal, and +touch the great Atlantic. The Niagara Falls, as I said, turn our +machinery. The fur trade, the lumber trade, all is ours. Our cattle +multiply, our lands wave with harvests. We are the centre of the +world, the capital of the future. And look! See what the _Albany +Gazette_ says: 'Here the Hebrews can have their Jerusalem without +fearing the legions of Titus. Here they can erect their Temple without +dreading the torches of frenzied soldiers. Here they can lay their +heads on their pillows at night without fear of mobs, of bigotry and +persecution.'" + +Peloni drew a long breath, enraptured by this holy El Dorado, +sparkling on the map, amid its tributary lakes and rivers. + +"You will see the eighteenth chapter of Isaiah fulfilled," Noah went +on. "For what is the 'land shadowing with wings, which is beyond the +rivers of Ethiopia,' which shall send messengers to a nation scattered +and peeled? What but America, shadowing us with the wings of its +eagle? As it is written elsewhere, 'I will bear thee on eagle's +wings.' It is true the English Bible translates 'Woe to the land,' but +this is a mistranslation. It should be 'Hail to the land!' Also the +word '_goumey_' they translate 'bulrushes'--'that sendeth messengers +in vessels of bulrushes!' But does not '_goumey_' also mean 'rush, +impetus?' And is it not therefore a prophecy of those new +steam-vessels that are beginning to creep up, one of which has just +crossed from England to India? Erelong they will be running between +America and all the world. It is the Lord making ready for the easy +ingathering of His people. Ay, and along these lakes"--the Prophet's +finger swept the map--"will be heard the panting of mighty +steam-monsters, all making for Ararat. By the way, Ararat lies here," +and he indicated a spot of the island opposite Tonawanda on the +mainland. + +Peloni bent down and poetically pressed his lips to the spot, like +Jehuda Halevi kissing the holy soil. + +"There is no one in possession there?" he inquired anxiously. + +"Maybe a few Iroquois Indians," said Noah. "But they will not have to +be turned out like the Hittites and Amorites and Jebusites by our +ancestors." + +"No?" murmured Peloni. + +"Of course not. They are our own brothers, carried away by the King of +Assyria. There can be not the slightest doubt that the Red Indians are +the Lost Ten Tribes of Israel." + +"What?" cried Peloni, vastly excited. + +"I shall publish a book on the subject. Yes, in worship, dialect, +language, sacrifices, marriages, divorces, burials, fastings, +purifications, punishments, cities of refuge, divisions of tribes, +High-Priests, wars, triumphs--'tis our very tradition." + +"Then I suppose one could lodge with them. I am anxious to settle in +Ararat at once." + +"You can scarcely settle there till the forest is cleared," said the +great man, arching his eyebrows. + +"The forest!" repeated Peloni, taken aback. + +"Ah, you are dismayed. You are a European, accustomed to ready-made +cities. We Americans, we change continents while you wait, build up +Aladdin's palaces over-night. As soon as I can manage to go over the +ground I will plan out the city." + +"You haven't been there yet?" gasped Peloni. + +"Ah, my dear Peloni. When should I find time to travel all the way to +Buffalo,--a busy editor, lawyer, playwright, what not? True, the time +that other men give to domestic happiness the President of the Old +Bachelors' Club is able to give to his fellow-men. But the slow canal +voyage--" + +At this moment there was a knock at the door, and a servant inquired +if Major Noah could see his tailor. + +"Ah, a good augury!" cried the major. "Here is the tailor come to try +on my Robe of Governor and Judge of Israel." + +The man bore an elaborate robe of crimson silk trimmed with ermine, +which he arranged about Noah's portly person, making marks with pins +and chalk where it could be made to fit better. + +"Do you like it?" said Noah, puffing himself out regally. + +Peloni's uneasiness vanished. Doubt was impossible before these +magnificent realities. Ah! the Americans were wonderful. + +"I had to go through our annals," Noah explained, "to find which +period of our government we could revive. Kingship was opposed to the +sentiment of these States: in the epoch of the Judges I found my +ideal. Indeed, what is the President of the United States but a +_Shophet_, a Judge of Israel? Ah, you are looking at that painting of +me--I shall have to be done again in my new robes. That elegant +creature who hangs beside me is Miss Leesugg, the Hebe of English +actresses, as she appeared in my 'She would be a Soldier, or the +Plains of Chippewa.' There is a caricature of my uncle, Aaron J. +Phillips, as the Turkish Commander in my 'Grecian Captive.' Dear me, +shall I ever forget how he tumbled off that elephant! Ha! ha! ha! +That is Miss Johnson, in my 'Yusef Carmatti, or the Siege of Tripoli.' +The black and white is a fancy sketch of 'Marion, or the Hero of Lake +George,' a play I wrote for the reopening of the Park Theatre and to +celebrate the evacuation of New York by the British in 1783." + +"Ah, I was there, Major," said the tailor. "It was bully. But the +house was so full of generals and colonels you could hardly hear a +word." + +"Fortunately for me," laughed Noah. "Yes, I asked them to come in full +uniform for the _eclat_ of the occasion. Which reminds me--here is a +ticket for you." + +"For the play?" murmured Peloni, as he took it. + +Noah started and looked at him keenly. But his flush of anger faded +before Peloni's innocent eyes. "No, no," he explained; "for the +opening ceremony of the foundation of Ararat." + +Peloni's black eyes shone. + +"There will be a great crush and only ticket-holders can be admitted +into the church." + +"Into the church!" echoed Peloni, paling. + +"Yes," said the Judge of Israel impressively, as he stood before a +glass to adjust the graceful folds of his crimson robe. "Our +fellow-citizens in Buffalo have been good enough to lend us the +Episcopal Church for the ceremony." + +"What ceremony?" he faltered, as horrid images swept before him, and +he heard all the way from Frankfort the taunting cry of "Missionary!" + +"The laying of the foundation-stone of Ararat." + +"Laying the foundation-stone in a church!" Peloni was puzzled. + +"Ah," said the Major, misunderstanding him; "it seems strange to you, +nursed in the musty lap of Europe. But here in this land of freedom +and this century of enlightenment all men are brothers." + +"But surely the foundation-stone should be laid on Grand Island." + +"It would have been desirable. But so many will wish to be present at +this great celebration. Buffalo alone has some thirteen hundred +inhabitants. How should we get them across? There are scarcely any +boats to be had--and Ararat is twelve miles away. No, no, it is better +to hold our ceremony in Buffalo. It is, after all, only a symbolism. +The corner-stone is already being inscribed in Hebrew and English. +'Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God. Ararat, a City of Refuge for the +Jews, founded by Mordecai M. Noah in the month Tishri, corresponding +with September, 1825, in the fiftieth year of American Independence.'" + +The sonorous recitation by the _Shophet_ in his crimson and ermine +robe somewhat restored Peloni's equanimity. + +"But when will the actual city be begun?" he asked. + +The _Shophet_ waved his hand airily. "A matter of days." + +"But are you sure we can build there?" + +"Look at the map. Here is Grand Island--ours! Here is the site of +Ararat. It is all as plain as a pikestaff. And, talking of pikestaffs, +it would not be a bad idea to plant a staff on Ararat with the flag of +Israel." + +Peloni took fire: "Yes, yes, let me go and plant it. I'll journey +night and day." + +"You shall plant it," said the _Shophet_ graciously. "Yes, I'll have +the flag made at once. The property man at the Park Theatre will +attend to it for me. The Lion of Judah and seven stars." + +"It shall be waving on Grand Island before you open the celebration in +Buffalo." + +Peloni went out like a lion, his head in the seven stars. Could it be +possible that to him--Peloni--had fallen the privilege of proclaiming +the New Jerusalem! + + +IV + +After the bustle of New York, the scattered village of Buffalo was +restful but somewhat chilling to the Ghetto-bred poet, with his quick +brain, unaccustomed to the slow processes of nature. Buffalo--with its +muddy, unpaved streets, and great trees, up which squirrel and +chipmunk ran--was still half in and half out of mother earth; man's +artifice ruled in the high street with its stores and inns, some of +which were even of brick; but in the byways every now and then a +primitive log cabin broke the line of frame cottages, and in the +outskirts cows and pigs walked about unconcernedly. It was a reminder +of all that would have to be done in Ararat ere a Temple could shine, +like a lighthouse of righteousness to the tossing nations. But when +Peloni learned that it was only twelve years since the scarcely born +village had been burnt down by the British and Indians in the war, he +felt reencouraged, warming himself at the flame, so to speak. And when +he found that the citizens were all agog about Ararat and the church +celebration--that it divided interest with the Erie Canal, the hanging +of the three Thayers, and the recent reception of General Lafayette at +the Eagle Tavern--his heart expanded in a new poem. + +It was indeed an auspicious moment for Noah's scheme. All eyes were +turned on the coming celebration of the opening of the great canal, to +be the terminus of which Buffalo had fought victoriously against Black +Rock. Golden visions of the future gleamed almost tangibly; and amid +the general magnificence Noah's ornate dream took on equal solidity. +Endless capital would be directed into the neighbourhood of +Buffalo--for Ararat was only twelve miles away. Besides, all the great +men of Buffalo--and there were many--had been honoured with elaborate +cards of invitation to the grand ceremony of the foundation-stone. A +few old Baptist farmers were surly about the threatened vast Jewish +immigration, but the majority proclaimed with righteous warmth that +the glorious American Constitution welcomed all creeds, and that there +was money in it. + +Peloni looked about for a Jew to guide him, but could find none. +Finally a Seneca Indian from the camp just below Buffalo undertook to +look for the spot. It was with a strange thrill that Peloni's eyes +rested for the first time on a red Indian. Was this indeed a long-lost +brother of his? He cried "Shalom Aleikhem" in Hebrew, but the Indian, +despite Noah's theories, did not seem to understand. Ultimately the +dialogue was carried on in the few words of broken English which the +Indian had picked up from the trappers, and in the gesture-language, +in which, with his genius for all languages, Peloni was soon at home. +And in truth he did find at heart some subtle sympathy with this +copper-coloured savage which was not called out by the busy citizens +of Buffalo. On a sunlit morning, bearing his flagstaff with the flag +wrapped round it, a blanket, and a little store of provisions for +camping out over-night, Peloni slipped into the birch canoe and the +Indian paddled off. For miles they glided in silence along the +sparkling Niagara, lone denizens of a lonely world. + +Suddenly Peloni thought of the _Judengasse_ of Frankfort, and for a +moment it seemed to him that he must be dreaming. What! a few short +months ago he was selling prayer-books and phylacteries in the shadow +of the old high-gabled houses, and now, in a virgin district of the +New World, in company with a half-naked red Indian, he was going to +plant the flag of Judah on an island forest and to found the New +Jerusalem. What would they say, his old friends, if they could see him +now? And he--the _Possemacher_--what winged jest would he let fly? A +perception of the monstrous fantasy of the thing stole on poor Peloni. +Was he, perhaps, dreaming after all? No, there was the Niagara River, +the village of Black Rock on his right hand, and on the other side of +the gorge the lively Fort Erie and the poplar-fringed Canadian shore, +and there too--on the map Noah had given him--Ararat lay waiting. + +The Indian paddled imperturbably, throwing back the sparkling water +with a soft, soothing sound. Peloni lapsed into more pleasurable +reflections. How beautiful was this great free place of sun and wind, +of water and forest, after the noisome Jew-street! He was not +dreaming, nor--thank God!--was Noah. Strange, indeed, that thus should +deliverance for Israel be wrought; yet what was Israel's history but a +series of miracles? And his--Peloni's--humble hand was to plant the +flag that had lain folded and inglorious these twenty centuries! + +They glided by a couple of little islands, duly marked on the map, and +then a great, wooded, dark purple mass rose to meet them with a band +of deep orange on the low coast-line. + +It was Grand Island. + +Peloni whispered a prayer. + +Obeying the map marked by Noah, the canoe glided round the island, +keeping to the American side. As they shot past a third little island, +a dull booming began to be audible. + +"What is that?" Peloni's face inquired. + +The Indian smiled. "Not go many miles farther," he indicated. "The +Rapids soon. Then--whizz! Then big jump! Niagara. Dead." + +Fortunately Ararat was due much sooner than Niagara. As they drew near +the fourth of the little islands, which lay betwixt Grand Island and +the mainland of the States, and saw the Tonawanda Creek emptying +itself into the river, Peloni signed to the Indian to land; for it was +here that Ararat was to arise. + +The landing was easy, the river here being shallow and the bank low. +The beauty of the spot, as it lay wild and fresh from God's hand in +the golden sunlight, moved Peloni to tears. The Indian, who seemed +curious as to his movements and willing to share his mid-day meal, +tied his canoe to a basswood tree and followed the standard-bearer. +There was a glorious medley of leafy life--elm, oak, maple, linden, +pine, wild cherry, wild plum--which Peloni could only rejoice in +without differentiating it by names; and as the oddly assorted couple +walked through the sun-dappled glades they startled a world of +scurrying animal life--snipe and plover and partridges and +singing-birds, squirrels and rabbits and even deer, that frisked and +fluttered unprescient of the New Jerusalem that menaced their +immemorial inheritance. The joy of city-building had begun at last to +dawn on Peloni, the immense pleasure to the human will of beginning +afresh, of shaking off the pressure of the ages, of inscribing free +ideas on the plastic universe. As he wandered at random in search of a +suitable spot on which to plant the flagstaff, the romance of this +great American world thrilled him, of this vast continent won acre by +acre from nature and the savage, covering itself with splendid cities; +a retrospective sympathy with the citizens of Buffalo and their coming +canal warmed his breast. + +Of a sudden he heard a screaming, and looking up he observed two +strange, huge birds upon a blasted pine. + +"Eagles," said the laconic Indian. + +"Eagles!" And Peloni's heart leaped with a remembrance of Noah's +words. "Here under their wings shall our flag be unfurled. And that +blasted tree is Israel, that shall flourish again." + +He dug the pole into the earth. A breeze caught the flag, and the +folds flew out, and the Lion of Judah and the seven stars flapped in +the face of an inattentive universe. Peloni intoned the Hebrew +benediction, closing his eyes in pious ecstasy. "Blessed art Thou, O +Lord our God, who hast kept us alive, and preserved us, and enabled us +to reach this day!" + +As he opened his eyes, he perceived in the distance high in air, +rising far above the Island, a great mist of shining spray, amid which +rainbows netted and tangled themselves in ineffable dream-like +loveliness. At the same instant his ear caught--over the boom of the +rapids--the first hint of another, a mightier, a more majestic roar. + +"Niagara," murmured the Indian. + +But Peloni's eyes were fixed on the celestial vision. + +"The _Shechinah_!" he whispered. "The divine presence that rested on +the Tabernacle, and on Solomon's Temple, and that has returned at +last--to Ararat." + + +V + +The booming of cannon from the Court House, and from the Terrace +facing the lake, saluted the bright September dawn and reminded the +citizens of Buffalo that the Messianic day was here. But they needed +no reminding. The great folk had laid out their best clothes; military +insignia and Masonic regalia had been furbished up. Troops guarded St. +Paul's Church and kept off the swarming crowd. + +The first act of the great historic drama--"Mordecai Manuel Noah; or, +The Redemption of Israel"--passed off triumphantly, to the music of +patriotic American airs. The procession, which marched at eleven from +the Lodge through the chief streets, did honour to this marshaller of +stage pageants. + + ORDER OF PROCESSION + + Grand Marshal, Col. Potter, on horseback. + Music. + Military. + Citizens. + Civil Officers. + State Officers in Uniform. + President and Trustees of the Corporation. + Tyler. + Stewards. + Entered Apprentices. + Fellow Crafts. + Master Masons. + Senior and Junior Deacons. + Secretary and Treasurer. + Senior and Junior Wardens. + Master of Lodges. + Past Masters. + Rev. Clergy. + Stewards, with corn, wine, and oil. + + | Principal Architect, | + Globe | with square, level, | Globe + | and plumb. | + Bible. + Square and Compass, borne by a Master Mason. + The Judge of Israel + In black, wearing the judicial robes of crimson silk, trimmed + with ermine, and a richly embossed golden + medal suspended from the neck. + A Master Mason. + Royal Arch Masons. + Knights Templars. + +At the church door there was a halt. The troops parted to right and +left, the pageant passed through into the crowded church, gay with the +summer dresses of the ladies, the band played the grand march from +"Judas Maccabaeus," the organ pealed out the "Jubilate." On the +communion-table lay the corner-stone of Ararat! + +The morning service was read by the Rev. Mr. Searle in full +canonicals; the choir sang "Before Jehovah's Awful Throne"; then came +a special prayer for Ararat, and passages from Jeremiah, Zephaniah, +and the Psalms, charged with divine promises and consolations for the +long suffering of Israel, idyllic pictures of the Messianic future, +symbolized by the silver cups with wine, corn, and oil, that lay on +the corner-stone. At last arose, with that crimson silk robe trimmed +with ermine thrown over his stately black attire, and with the richly +embossed golden medal hanging from his neck--the Master of the Show, +the Dramatist of the Real, the Humorist without a sense of Humour, the +Dreamer of the Ghetto and American Man of Action, the Governor and +Judge of Israel, the _Shophet_,--in brief, Mordecai Manuel Noah. He +delivered a great discourse on the history of Israel and its present +reorganization, which filled more than five columns of the newspapers, +and was heard with solemn attention by the crowded Christian audience. +Save a few Indians and his own secretary, not a single Jew was +present to hold in check the orator's oriental imagination. Then the +glittering procession filed back to the Lodge, and the brethren and +the military dined joyously at the Eagle Tavern, and Noah's wit and +humour returned for the after-dinner speech. He withdrew early in +order to write a full account of the proceedings for the _Buffalo +Patriot Extra_. + +A salvo of twenty-four guns rounded off the great day of Israel's +restoration. + + +VI + +Meantime Peloni on his island awaited the coming of its Ruler. He +heard faintly the cannonade that preceded and concluded the laying of +the foundation-stone in the chancel of the church, and he expected +Noah the next day at the latest. But the next day passed, and no Noah. +Peloni fed on the remains of his corn and drank from the river, but +though his Indian guide was gone and he was a prisoner, he had no fear +of starvation, because he saw the wigwams of another Indian encampment +across the river and occasionally a party of them would glide past in +a large canoe. Despite hunger, his sensations on this first day were +delicious. The poet in him responded rapturously to the appeal of all +this new life; to feel the brotherhood of wild creatures, to sleep +under the stars in the vast night, to watch the silent, passionate +beauty of the sunrise, ripening to the music of the birds. + +On the second day his eyes were gladdened by the oncoming of a boat +rowed by two whites. They proved to be a stone mason and his man, and +they bore provisions, a letter, and newspapers from Noah:-- + + "MY DEAR PELONI: + + "A hurried line to report a glorious success, thank Heaven! A + finer day and more general satisfaction has not been known on + any similar occasion. All the dignity and talent of the + neighbourhood for miles was present. I hear that a vast + concourse also assembled at Tonawanda, expecting that the + ceremonies would be at Grand Island, but that many of them came + up in carriages in time to hear my Inaugural Speech. You will + see that the newspapers, especially the _Buffalo Patriot Extra_, + have reported me fully, showing how they realize the importance + of this world-stirring episode in Israel's history. Their + comments, too, are for the most part highly sympathetic. Of + course the _New York Herald_ will sneer; but then Bennett was + once in my employ on the _Courier and Enquirer_. They tell me + that you duly set out to plant the flag of Judah, and I assume + it is now by God's grace waving over Ararat. Heaven bless you! + my heart is too full for words. I had hoped to find time to-day + to behold the sublime spectacle myself, but urgent legal + business calls me back to New York. But I am resolved to start + the city without delay, and the bearers of this have my plan for + a little monument of brick and wood with the simple + inscription--'Ararat founded by Mordecai Manuel Noah, + 1825'--from the summit of which the flag can wave. I leave you + to superintend the same, and take any measures you please to + promote the growth of the city and to receive, as my + representative, the inflowing immigrants from the Ghettos of the + world. I appoint you, moreover, Keeper of the Records. To you + shall be given to write the new Book of the Chronicles of + Israel. My friend Mr. Smith, one of the proprietors of the + island, will communicate with you on behalf of the Shareholders, + as occasion arises. Expect me shortly (perhaps with my bride, + for I am entering into holy wedlock with the most amiable and + beautiful of her sex) and meantime receive my blessing. + + "MORDECAI MANUEL NOAH, Judge of Israel, + "_pro_ A.B. SEIXAS, Secr. _pro tem._" + +While the little monument was building, and the men were coming to and +fro in boats, Peloni made friends with the Indians, the smoke-wreaths +of whose lodges hovered across the river, and he picked up a little of +their language. Also he explored his island, drawn by the crescendo +roar of Niagara. It was at Burnt Island Bay that he had his first, if +distant, view of the Falls themselves. The rapids, gurgling and +plunging with foam and swirl and eddy, quickened his blood, but the +cataracts disappointed him, after that rainbow glimpse of the upper +spray, and it was not till he got himself landed on the Canadian shore +and saw the monstrous rush of the vast tameless flood toward the great +leap that he felt the presence and the power that were to be with him +for the rest of his days. The bend of the Horse-Shoe was hidden by a +white spray mountain that rose above its topmost waters, as they +hurled themselves from green solidity to creamy mist. And as he +looked, lo! the enchanting rainbows twinkled again, and he had a sense +as of the smile of God, of the love of that awful, unfathomable Being, +eternally persistent, while the generations rise and fall like +vaporous spray. + +The tide was low and, drawn by an irresistible fascination, he +adventured down among the rocks near the foot of the Fall. But a +tingling storm of spray smote him half blind and wholly breathless, +and all he could see was a monstrous misty Brocken-spirit upreared and +in his ears were a thousand thunders. A wild elemental passion swelled +and lifted him. Yes, Force, Force, was the secret of things: the vast +primal energies that sent the stars shining and the seas roaring. +Force, Life, Strength, that was what Israel needed. It had grown +anaemic, slouching along its airless _Judengassen_. Oh, to fight, to +fight, like the warriors who went out against the Greeks, who defended +the Holy City against the Romans. "For the Lord is a Man of War." And +he shouted the cry of David, "Blessed be the Lord, my Rock, who +teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight." But he stopped, +smitten by an ironic memory. This very blessing was uttered every +Sabbath twilight, in every Ghetto, by every bloodless worshipper, to a +melancholy despairing melody, in the lightless dusk of the synagogues. + +The monument was speedily erected and, being hollow, proved useful for +Peloni to sleep in, as the October nights grew chilly. And thus Peloni +lived, a latter-day Crusoe. He had now procured fishing-tackle, and +grew dexterous in luring black bass and perch and whitefish from the +river. Also he had found out what berries he might eat. Occasionally a +boat would sell him cornmeal from Buffalo, but his savings were +melting away and he preferred to forage for himself, relishing the +wild flavour of uncivilized living. He even wished it were possible to +eat the birds or the rabbits he could have killed: but as various +points of Jewish law forbade such diet, there was no use in buying a +musket or a bow and arrow. So his relations with the animal world +remained purely amicable. The robins and bluebirds and thrushes sang +for him. The woodpeckers tapped on his monument to wake him in the +morning. The blue jays screamed without wrath, and the partridges +drummed unmartially. The squirrels frolicked with him, and the rabbits +lost their shyness. One would have said these were the Lost Ten Tribes +he had found. + +Peloni had become, not the Keeper of the Records, but the Keeper of +Noah's Ark. + + +VII + +So winter came, and there was still nothing to record, save the +witchery of the muffled white world with its blue shadows and +fantastic ice friezes and stalactites. Great icicles glittered on the +rocks, showing all the hues beneath. Peloni, wrapped in his blanket, +crouched on his monument over a log that burnt in an improvised grate. +It was very lonely. He had heard from no one, neither from Noah, nor +Smith, nor any Jewish or even Indian pilgrim to the New Jerusalem, +and the stock of winter provisions had exhausted his little hoard of +coin. The old despair began to twine round him like some serpent of +ice. As he listened in such moods to the distant thunder of +Niagara--which waxed louder as the air grew heavier, till it quite +dominated the ever present rumble of the rapids--the sound took on +endless meanings to his feverish brain. Now it was no longer the voice +of the Eternal Being, it was the endless plaint of Israel beseeching +the deaf heaven, the roar of prayer from some measureless synagogue; +now it was the raucous voice of persecution, the dull bestial roar of +malicious multitudes; and again it was the voice of the whole earth, +groaning and travailing. And the horror of it was that it would not +stop. It dropped on his brain, this falling water, as on the +prisoner's in the mediaeval torture chamber. Could no one stop this +turning wheel of the world, jar it grindingly to a standstill? + +Spring wore slowly round again. The icicles melted, the friezes +dripped away, the fantastic mufflers slipped from the trees, and the +young buds peeped out and the young birds sang. The river flowed +uncurdled, the cataracts fell unclogged. + +In Peloni's breast alone the ice did not melt: no new sap stirred in +his veins. The very rainbows on the leaping mist were now only +reminders of the Biblical promise that the world would go on forever; +forever the wheel would turn, and Israel wander homeless. + +And at last one sunny day a boat arrived with a message from the +Master. Alas! even Noah had abandoned Ararat. "I am beginning to see," +he wrote, "that our only hope is Palestine. Zion alone has magnetism +for the Jew. The great war against Gog prophesied in Ezekiel will be +in Palestine. Gog is Russia, and the Russians are the descendants of +the joint colony of Meshech and Tubal and the little horn of Daniel. +Russia in an attempt to wrest India and Turkey from the English and +the Turks will make the Holy Land the theatre of a terrible conflict. +But yet in the end in Jerusalem shall we reerect Solomon's Temple. The +ports of the Mediterranean will be again open to the busy hum of +commerce; the fields will again bear the fruitful harvest, and +Christian and Jew will together, on Mount Zion, raise their voices in +praise of Him whose covenant with Abraham was to endure forever, in +whose seed all the nations of the earth are to be blessed. This is our +destiny." + +Peloni wandered automatically to the apex of the island at Burnt Ship +Bay, and stood gazing meaninglessly at the fragments of the sunken +ships. Before him raced the rapids, frenziedly anxious for the great +leap. Even so, he thought, had Noah and he dreamed Israel would haste +to Ararat. And Niagara maintained its mocking roar--its roar of +gigantic laughter. + +Reerect Solomon's Temple in Palestine! A ruined country to regenerate +a ruined people! A land belonging to the Turks, centre of the +fanaticisms of three religions and countless sects! A soil which even +to Noah was the destined theatre of world-shaking war! + +As he lifted his swimming eyes he saw to his astonishment that he was +no longer alone. A tall majestic figure stood gazing at him: a grave, +sorrowful Indian, feathered and tufted, habited only in buckskin +leggings, and girdled by a belt of wampum. A musket in his hand showed +he had been hunting, and a canoe Peloni now saw tethered to the bank +indicated he was going back to his lodge. Peloni knew from his talks +with the Tonawanda Indians opposite Ararat that this was Red Jacket, +the famous chief of the Iroquois, the ancient lords of the soil. +Peloni tendered the salute due to the royalty stamped on the man. Red +Jacket ceremoniously acknowledged the obeisance. Then they gazed +silently at each other, the puny, stooping scholar from the German +Ghetto, and the stalwart, kingly savage. + +"Tell me," said Red Jacket imperiously, "what nation are you that +build a monument but never a city like the other white men, nor even a +camp like my people?" + +"Great Chief," replied Peloni in his best Iroquois, "we are a people +that build for others." + +"I would ye would build for my people then. For these white men sweep +us back, farther, farther, till there is nothing but"--and he made an +eloquent gesture, implying the sweep into the river, into the jaws of +the hurrying rapids. "Yet, methinks, I heard of a plan of your +people--of a great pow-wow of your chiefs in a church, of a great city +to be born here." + +"It is dead before birth," said Peloni. + +"Strange," mused Red Jacket. "Scarce twenty summers ago Joseph Elliott +came here to plan out his city on a soil that was not his, and lo! +this Buffalo rises already mighty and menacing. To-morrow it will be +at my wigwam door--and we"--another gesture, hopeless, yet full of +regal dignity, rounded off the sentence. + +And in that instant it was borne in upon Peloni that they were indeed +brothers: the Jew who stood for the world that could not be born +again, and the Red Indian who stood for the world that must pass away. +Yes, they were both doomed. Israel had been too bent and broken by the +long dispersion and the long persecution: the spring was snapped; he +could not recover. He had been too long the pliant protege of kings +and popes: he had prayed too many centuries in too many countries for +the simultaneous welfare of too many governments, to be capable of +realizing that government of his own for which he likewise prayed. +This pious patience--this rejection of the burden on to the shoulders +of Messiah and Miracle--was it more than the veil of unconscious +impotence? Ah, better sweep oneself away than endure the long +ignominy. And Niagara laughed on. + +"May I have the privilege of crossing in your canoe?" he asked. + +"You are not afraid?" said Red Jacket. "The rapids are dangerous +here." + +Afraid! Peloni's inward laughter seemed to himself to match Niagara's. + +When he got to the mainland, he made straight for the Fall. He was on +the American side, and he paused on the sward, on the very brink of +the tameless cataract, that had for immemorial ages been driving +itself backward by eating away its own rock. His fascinated eyes +watched the curious smooth, purring slide of the vast mass of green +water over the sharp edges, unending, unresting, the eternal +revolution of a maddening, imperturbable wheel. O that blind wheel, +turning, turning, while the generations waxed and waned, one +succeeding the other without haste or rest or possibility of pause: +creatures of meaningless majesty, shadows of shadows, dreaming of love +and justice, and fading into the kindred mist, while this solid green +cataract roared and raced through aeons innumerable, stable as the +stars, thundering in majestic meaninglessness. And suddenly he threw +himself into its remorseless whirl and was sucked down into the +monstrous chaos of seething waters and whirled and hurled amid the +rocks, battered and shapeless, but still holding Noah's letter in his +convulsively clinched hand, while the rainbowed spray leapt +impassively heavenward. + +The corner-stone of Ararat lies in the rooms of the Buffalo Historical +Society, and no one who copies the inscription dreams that it is the +gravestone of Peloni. + +And while the very monument has mouldered away in Ararat, Buffalo sits +throned amid her waters, the Queen City of the Empire State, with the +world's commerce at her feet. And from their palaces of Medina +sandstone the Christian railroad kings go out to sail in their +luxurious yachts,--vessels not of bulrushes but driven by steam, as +predicted by Mordecai Manuel Noah, Governor and Judge of Israel. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +IV + +THE LAND OF PROMISE + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +IV + +THE LAND OF PROMISE + + +I + +"Telegraph how many pieces you have." + +In this wise did the Steamship Company convey to the astute agent its +desire to know how many Russian Jews he was smuggling out of the Pale +into the steerage of its Atlantic liner. + +The astute agent's task was simple enough. The tales he told of +America were only the clarification of a nebulous vision of the land +flowing with milk and honey that hovered golden-rayed before all these +hungry eyes. To the denizens of the Pale, in their cellars, in their +gutter-streets, in their semi-subterranean shops consisting mainly of +shutters and annihilating one another's profits; to the congested +populations newly reinforced by the driving back of thousands from +beyond the Pale, and yet multiplying still by an improvident reliance +on Providence; to the old people pauperized by the removal of the +vodka business to Christian hands, and the young people dammed back +from their natural outlets by Pan-Slavic ukases, and clogged with +whimsical edicts and rescripts--the astute agent's offer of getting +you through Germany, without even a Russian passport, by a simple +passage from Libau to New York, was peculiarly alluring. + +It was really almost an over-baiting of the hook on the part of the +too astute agent to whisper that he had had secret information of a +new thunderbolt about to be launched at the Pale; whereby the period +of service for Jewish conscripts would be extended to fifteen years, +and the area of service would be extended to Siberia. + +"Three hundred and seventy-seven pieces," ran his telegram in reply. +In a letter he suggested other business he might procure for the line. + +"Confine yourself to freight," the Company wrote cautiously, for even +under sealed envelopes you cannot be too careful. "The more the +better." + +Freight! The word was not inexact. Did not even the Government reports +describe these exploiters of the Muzhik as in some places packed in +their hovels like salt herrings in a barrel; as sleeping at night in +serried masses in sties which by day were tallow or leather factories? + +To be shipped as cargo came therefore natural enough. Nevertheless, +each of these "pieces," being human after all, had a history, and one +of these histories is here told. + + +II + +Nowhere was the poverty of the Pale bitterer than in the weavers' +colony, in which Srul betrothed himself to Biela. The dowries, which +had been wont to kindle so many young men's passions, had fallen to +freezing-point; and Biela, if she had no near prospect of marriage, +could console herself with the knowledge that she was romantically +loved. Even the attraction of _kest_--temporary maintenance of the +young couple by the father-in-law--was wanting in Biela's case, for +the simple reason that she had no father, both her parents having died +of the effort to get a living. For marriage-portion and _kest_, Biela +could only bring her dark beauty, and even that was perhaps less than +it seemed. For you scarcely ever saw Biela apart from her homely +quasi-mother, her elder sister Leah, who, like the original Leah, had +"tender eyes," which combined with a pock-marked face to ensure for +her premature recognition as an old maid. The inflamed eyelids were +the only legacy Leah's father had left her. + +From Srul's side, though his parents were living, came even fainter +hope of the wedding-canopy. Srul's father was blind--perhaps a further +evidence that the local hygienic conditions were nocuous to the eye in +particular--and Srul himself, who had occupied most of his time in +learning to weave Rabbinic webs, had only just turned his attention +to cloth, though Heaven was doubtless pleased with the gear of +_Gemara_ he had gathered in his short sixteen years. The old weaver +had--in more than one sense--seen better days before his affliction +and the great factories came on: days when the independent hand-weaver +might sit busily before the loom from the raw dawn to the black +midnight, taking his meals at the bench; days when, moreover, the +"piece" of satin-faced cloth was many ells shorter. "But they make up +for the extra length," he would say with pathetic humour, "by cutting +the pay shorter." + +The same sense of humour enabled him to bear up against the forced +rests that increasing slackness brought the hand-weavers, while the +factories whirred on. "Now is the proverb fulfilled," he cried to his +unsmiling wife, "for there are two Sabbaths a week." Alas! as the +winter grew older and colder, it became a week of Sabbaths. The wheels +stood still; in all the colony not a spool was reeled. It was +unprecedented. Gradually the factories had stolen the customers. Some +sat waiting dazedly for the raw yarns they knew could no longer come +at this season; others left the suburb in which the colony had drowsed +from time immemorial, and sought odd jobs in the town, in the frowning +shadows of the factories. But none would enter the factories +themselves, though these were ready to suck them in on one sole +condition. + +Ah! here was the irony of the tragedy. The one condition was the one +condition the poor weavers could not accept. It was open to them to +reduce the week of Sabbaths to its ancient and diurnal dimensions, +provided the Sabbath itself came on Sunday. Nay, even the working-day +offered them was less, and the wage was more than their own. The +deeper irony within this irony was that the proprietor of every one of +these factories was a brother in Israel! Jeshurun grown fat and +kicking. + +Even the old blind man's composure deserted him when it began to be +borne in on his darkness that the younger weavers meditated surrender. +The latent explosives generated through the years by their perusal of +un-Jewish books in insidious "Yiddish" versions, now bade fair to be +touched to eruption by this paraded prosperity of wickedness; +wickedness that had even discarded the caftan and shaved the corners +of its beard. + +"But thou, apple of my eye," the old man said to Srul, "thou wilt die +rather than break the Sabbath?" + +"Father," quoted the youth, with a shuddering emotion at the bare +idea, "I have been young and now I am old, but never have I seen the +righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging for bread." + +"My son! A true spark of the Patriarchs!" And the old man clasped the +boy to his arms and kissed him on the pious cheeks down which the +ear-locks dangled. + +"But if Biela should tempt thee, so that thou couldst have the +wherewithal to marry her," put in his mother, who could not keep her +thoughts off grandchildren. + +"Not for apples of gold, mother, will I enter the service of these +serpents." + +"Nevertheless, Biela is fair to see, and thou art getting on in +years," murmured the mother. + +"Leah would not give Biela to a Sabbath-breaker," said the old man +reassuringly. + +"Yes, but suppose she gives her to a bread-winner," persisted the +mother. "Do not forget that Biela is already fifteen, only a year +younger than thyself." + +But Leah kept firm to the troth she had plighted on behalf of Biela, +even though the young man's family sank lower and lower, till it was +at last reduced from the little suburban wooden cottage, with the +spacious courtyard, to one corner of a large town-cellar, whose +population became amphibious when the Vistula overflowed. + +And Srul kept firm to the troth Israel had plighted with the +Sabbath-bride, even when his father's heart no longer beat, so could +not be broken. The old man remained to the last the most cheerful +denizen of the cellar: perhaps because he was spared the vision of his +emaciated fellow-troglodytes. He called the cellar "Arba Kanfos," +after the four-cornered garment of fringes which he wore: and +sometimes he said these were the "Four Corners" from which, according +to the Prophets, God would gather Israel. + + +III + +In such a state of things an agent scarcely needed to be astute. +"Pieces" were to be had for the picking up. The only trouble was that +they were not gold pieces. The idle weavers could not defray the +passage-money, still less the agent's commission for smuggling them +through. + +"If I only had a few hundred roubles," Srul lamented to Leah, "I could +get to a land where there is work without breaking the Sabbath, a land +to which Biela could follow me when I waxed in substance." + +Leah supported her household of three--for there was a younger sister, +Tsirrele, who, being only nine, did not count except at meal-times--on +the price of her piece-work at the Christian umbrella factory, where, +by a considerate Russian law, she could work on Sunday, though the +Christians might not. Thus she earned, by literal sweating in a torrid +atmosphere, three roubles, all except a varying number of kopecks, +every week. And when you live largely on black bread and coffee, you +may, in the course of years, save a good deal, even if you have three +mouths. Therefore, Leah had the sum that Srul mentioned so wistfully, +put by for a rainy day (when there should be no umbrellas to make). +And as the sum had kept increasing, the notion that it might form the +nucleus of an establishment for Biela and Srul had grown clearer and +clearer in her mind, which it tickled delightfully. But the idea that +now came to her of staking all on a possible future was agitating. + +"We might, perhaps, be able to get together the money," she said +tentatively. "But--" She shook her head, and the Russian proverb came +to her lips. "Before the sun rises the dew may destroy you." + +Srul plunged into an eager recapitulation of the agent's assurances. +And before the eyes of both the marriage-canopy reared itself splendid +in the Land of Promise, and the figure of Biela flitted, crowned with +the bridal wreath. + +"But what will become of your mother?" Leah asked. + +Srul's soap-bubbles collapsed. He had forgotten for the moment that he +had a mother. + +"She might come to live with us," Leah hastened to suggest, seeing his +o'erclouded face. + +"Ah, no, that would be too much of a burden. And Tsirrele, too, is +growing up." + +"Tsirrele eats quite as much now as she will in ten years' time," said +Leah, laughing, as she thought fondly of her dear, beautiful little +one, her gay whimsies and odd caprices. + +"And my mother does not eat very much," said Srul, wavering. + +In this way Srul became a "piece," and was dumped down in the Land of +Promise. + + +IV + +To the four females left behind--odd fragments of two families thrown +into an odder one--the movements of the particular piece, Srul, were +the chief interest of existence. The life in the three-roomed wooden +cottage soon fell into a routine, Leah going daily to the tropical +factory, Biela doing the housework and dreaming of her lover, little +Tsirrele frisking about and chattering like the squirrel she was, and +Srul's mother dozing and criticising and yearning for her lost son and +her unborn grandchildren. By the time Srul's first letter, with its +exciting pictorial stamp, arrived from the Land of Promise, the +household seemed to have been established on this basis from time +immemorial. + +"I had a lucky escape, God be thanked," Srul wrote. "For when I arrived +in New York I had only fifty-one roubles in my pocket. Now it seems +that these rich Americans are so afraid of being overloaded with +paupers that they will not let you in, if you have less than fifty +dollars, unless you can prove you are sure to prosper. And a dollar, my +dear Biela, is a good deal more than a rouble. However, blessed be the +Highest One, I learned of this ukase just the day before we arrived, +and was able to borrow the difference from a fellow-passenger, who lent +me the money to show the Commissioners. Of course, I had to give it +back as soon as I was passed, and as I had to pay him five roubles for +the use of it, I set foot on the soil of freedom with only forty-six. +However, it was well worth it; for just think, beloved Biela, if I had +been shipped back and all that money wasted! The interpreter also said +to me, 'I suppose you have got some work to do here?' 'I wish I had,' I +said. No sooner had the truth slipped out than my heart seemed turned +to ice, for I feared they would reject me after all as a poor wretch +out of work. But quite the contrary; it seemed this was only a trap, a +snare of the fowler. Poor Caminski fell into it--you remember the +red-haired weaver who sold his looms to the Maggid's brother-in-law. He +said he had agreed to take a place in a glove factory. It is true, you +know, that some Polish Jews have made a glove town in the north, so the +poor man thought that would sound plausible. Hence you may expect to +see Caminski's red hair back again, unless he takes ship again from +Libau and tells the truth at the second attempt. I left him howling in +a wooden pen, and declaring he would kill himself rather than face his +friends at home with the brand on his head of not being good enough for +America. He did not understand that contract-labourers are not let in. +Protection is the word they call it. Hence, I thank God that my +father--his memory for a blessing!--taught me to make Truth the law of +my mouth, as it is written. Verily was the word of the Talmud (Tractate +Sabbath) fulfilled at the landing-stage: 'Falsehood cannot stay, but +truth remains forever.' With God's help, I shall remain here all my +life, for it is a land overflowing with milk and honey. I had almost +forgotten to tell my dove that the voyage was hard and bitter as the +Egyptian bondage; not because of the ocean, over which I passed as +easily as our forefathers over the Red Sea, but by reason of the +harshness of the overseers, who regarded not our complaints that the +meat was not _kosher_, as promised by the agent. Also the butter and +meat plates were mixed up. I and many with me lived on dry bread, nor +could we always get hot water to make coffee. When my Biela comes +across the great waters--God send her soon--she must take with her salt +meat of her own." + +From the first, Srul courageously assumed that the meat would soon +have to be packed; nay, that Leah might almost set about salting it at +once. Even the slow beginnings of his profits as a peddler did not +daunt him. "A great country," he wrote on paper stamped with the Stars +and Stripes, with an eagle screaming on the envelope. "No special +taxes for the Jews, permission to travel where you please, the schools +open freely to our children, no passports and papers at every step, +above all, no conscription. No wonder the people call it God's own +country. Truly, as it is written, this is none other but the House of +God, this is the Gate of Heaven. And when Biela comes, it will be +Heaven." Letters like this enlarged the little cottage as with an +American room, brightened it as with a fresh wash of blue paint. +Despite the dreary grind of the week, Sabbaths and festivals found the +household joyous enough. The wedding-canopy of Srul and Biela was a +beacon of light for all four, which made life livable as they +struggled toward it. Nevertheless, it came but slowly to meet them: +nearly three years oozed by before Srul began to lift his eye toward a +store. The hereditary weaver of business combinations had emerged +tardily from beneath the logic-weaver and the cloth-weaver, but of +late he had been finding himself. "If I could only get together five +hundred dollars clear," he wrote to Leah. "For that is all I should +have to pay down for a ladies' store near Broadway, and just at the +foot of the stairs of the Elevated Railway. What a pity I have only +four hundred and thirty-five dollars! Stock and goodwill, and only +five hundred dollars cash! The other five hundred could stand over at +five per cent. If I were once in the store I could gradually get some +of the rooms above (there is already a parlour, in which I shall +sleep), and then, as soon as I was making a regular profit, I could +send Biela and mother their passage-money, and my wife could help 'the +boss' behind the counter." + +To hasten the rosy day Leah sent thirty-five roubles, and presently, +sure enough, Srul was in possession, and a photograph of the store +itself came over to gladden their weary eyes and dilate those of the +neighbours. The photograph of Srul, which had come eighteen months +before, was not so suited for display, since his peaked cap and his +caftan had been replaced by a jacket and a bowler, and, but for the +ear-locks which were still in the picture, he would have looked like a +factory-owner. In return, Srul received a photograph of the +four--taken together, for economy's sake--Leah with her arm around +Biela's waist, and Tsirrele sitting in his mother's lap. + + +V + +But a long, wearying struggle was still before the new "boss," and two +years crept along, with their turns of luck and ill-luck, of bargains +and bad debts, ere the visionary marriage-canopy (that seemed to span +the Atlantic) began to stand solidly on American soil. The third year +was not half over ere Srul actually sent the money for Biela's +passage, together with a handsome "waist" from his stock, for her to +wear. But Biela was too timid to embark alone without Srul's mother, +whose fare Srul could not yet manage to withdraw from his capital. +Leah, of course, offered to advance it, but Biela refused this +vehemently, because a new hope had begun to spring up in her breast. +Why should she be parted from her family at all? Since her marriage +had been delayed these five and a half years, a few months more or +less could make no difference. Let Leah's savings, then, be for Leah's +passage (and Tsirrele's) and to give her a start in the New World. "It +rains, even in America, and there are umbrella factories there, too," +she urged. "You will make twice the living. Look at Srul!" + +And there was a new fear, too, which haunted Biela's aching heart, but +which she dared not express to Leah. Leah's eyes were getting worse. +The temperature of the factory was a daily hurt, and then, too, she +had read so many vilely printed Yiddish books and papers by the light +of the tallow candle. What if she were going blind? What if, while +she, Biela, was happy with Srul, Leah should be starving with +Tsirrele? No, they must all remain together: and she clung to her +sister, with tears. + +To Leah the prospect of witnessing her sister's happiness was so +seductive that she tried to take the lowest estimate of her own +chances of finding work in New York. Her savings, almost eaten up by +the journey, could not last long, and it would be terrible to have to +come upon Srul for help, a man with a wife and (if God were good) +children, to say nothing of his old mother. No, she could not risk +Tsirrele's bread. + +But the increased trouble with her eyes turned her in favour of going, +though, curiously enough, for a side reason quite unlike Biela's. +Leah, too, was afraid of a serious breakdown, though she would not +hint her fears to any one else. From her miscellaneous Yiddish reading +she had gathered that miraculous eye-doctors lived in Koenigsberg. Now +a journey to Germany was not to be thought of; if she went to America, +however, it could be taken en route. It would be a sort of saving, and +few things appealed to Leah as much as economy. This was why, some +four months later, the ancient furniture of the blue-washed cottage +was sold off, and the quartette set their faces for America by way of +Germany. The farewell to the home of their youth took place in the +cemetery among the high-shouldered Hebrew-speaking stones. Leah and +Biela passionately invoked the spirits of their dead parents and bade +them watch over their children. The old woman scribbled Srul and +Biela's interlinked names over the flat tomb of a holy scholar. "Take +their names up to the Highest One," she pleaded. "Entreat that their +quiver be full, for the sake of thy righteousness." + +More dead than alive, the four "pieces" with their bundles arrived at +Hamburg. Days and nights of travelling, packed like "freight" in hard, +dirty wooden carriages, the endless worry of passports, tickets, +questions, hygienic inspections and processes, the illegal exactions +of petty officials, the strange phantasmagoria of places and +faces--all this had left them dazed. Only two things kept up their +spirits--the image of Srul waiting on the Transatlantic wharf in +hymeneal attire, and the "pooh-pooh" of the miraculous Koenigsberg +doctor, reassuring Leah as to her eyes. There was nothing radically +the matter. Even the inflamed eyelids--though incurable, because +hereditary--would improve with care. Peasant-like, Leah craved a +lotion. "The sea voyage and the rest will do you more good than my +medicines. And don't read so much." Not a groschen did Leah have to +pay for the great specialist's services. It was the first time in her +hard life anybody had done anything for her for nothing, and her +involuntary weeping over this phenomenon tended to hurt the very +eyelids under attention. They were still further taxed by the kindness +of the Jewish committee at Hamburg, on the look-out to smooth the path +of poor emigrants and overcome their dietary difficulties. But it was +a crowded ship, and our party reverted again to "freight." With some +of the other females, they were accommodated in hammocks swung over +the very dining-tables, so that they must needs rise at dawn and be +cleared away before breakfast. The hot, oily whiff of the +cooking-engines came through the rocking doorway. Of the quartette, +only Tsirrele escaped sea-sickness, but "baby" was too accustomed to +be petted and nursed to be able suddenly to pet and nurse, and she +would spend hours on the slip of lower deck, peering into the fairy +saloons which were vivified by bugle instead of bell, and in which +beautiful people ate dishes fit for the saints in Heaven. By an effort +of will, Leah soon returned to her role of factotum, but the old +woman and Biela remained limp to the end. Fortunately, there was only +one day of heavy rolling and battened-down hatches. For the bulk of +the voyage the great vessel brushed the pack of waves disdainfully +aside. And one wonderful day, amid unspeakable joy, New York arrived, +preceded by a tug and by a boat that conveyed inquiring officials. The +great statue of Liberty, on Bedloe's Island, upheld its torch to light +the new-comers' path. Srul--there he is on the wharf, dear old +Srul!--God bless him! despite his close-cropped hair and his shaven +ear-locks. Ah! Heaven be praised! Don't you see him waving? Ah, but +we, too, must be content with waving. For here only the _tschinovniks_ +of the gilded saloon may land. The "freight" must be packed later into +rigid gangs, according to the ship's manifest, transferred to a +smaller steamer and discharged on Ellis Island, a little beyond +Bedloe's. + + +VI + +And at Ellis Island a terrible thing happened, unforeseen--a shipwreck +in the very harbour. + +As the "freight" filed slowly along the corridor-cages in the great +bare hall, like cattle inspected at ports by the veterinary surgeon, +it came into the doctor's head that Leah's eye-trouble was infectious. +"Granular lids--contagious," he diagnosed it on paper. And this +diagnosis was a flaming sword that turned every way, guarding against +Leah the Land of Promise. + +"But it is not infectious," she protested in her best German. "It is +only in the family." + +"So I perceive," dryly replied America's Guardian Angel, who was now +examining the obvious sister clinging to Leah's skirts. And in Biela, +heavy-eyed with sickness and want of sleep, his suspicious vision +easily discovered a reddish rim of eyelid that lent itself to the same +fatal diagnosis, and sent her to join Leah in the dock of the +rejected. The fresh-faced Tsirrele and the wizen-faced mother of Srul +passed unscrutinized, and even the dread clerk at the desk who asked +questions was content with their oath that the wealthy Srul would +support them. Srul was, indeed, sent for at once, as Tsirrele was too +pretty to be let out under the mere protection of a Polish crone. + +When the full truth that neither she nor Biela was to set foot in New +York burst through the daze in Leah's brain, her protest grew frantic. + +"But my sister has nothing the matter with her--nothing. O _gnaediger +Herr_, have pity. The Koenigsberg doctor--the great doctor--told me I +had no disease, no disease at all. And even if I have, my sister's +eyes are pure as the sunshine. Look, _mein Herr_, look again. See," +and she held up Biela's eyelids and passionately kissed the wet +bewildered eyes. "She is to be married, my lamb--her bridegroom +awaits her on the wharf. Send _me_ back, _gnaediger Herr_; I ought not +to have come. But for God's sake, don't keep Biela out, don't." She +wrung her hands. But the marriage card had been played too often in +that hall of despairing dodges. "Oh, _Herr Doktor_," and she kissed +the coat-tail of the ship's doctor, "plead for us; speak a word for +her." + +The ship's doctor spoke a word on his own behalf. It was he who had +endorsed the two girls' health-certificates at Hamburg, and he would +be blamed by the Steamship Company, which would have to ship the +sisters back free, and even defray their expenses while in quarantine +at the depot. He ridiculed the idea that the girls were suffering from +anything contagious. But the native doctor frowned, immovable. + +Leah grew hysteric. It was the first time in her life she had lost her +sane standpoint. "Your own eye is affected," she shrieked, her dark +pock-marked face almost black with desperate anger, "if you cannot see +that it is only because my sister has been weeping, because she is ill +from the voyage. But she carries no infection--she is healthy as an +ox, and her eye is the eye of an eagle!" She was ordered to be silent, +but she shrieked angrily, "The German doctors know, but the Americans +have no _Bildung_." + +"Oh, don't, Leah," moaned Biela, throwing her arms round the panting +breast. "What's the use?" But the irrepressible Leah got an S.I. +ticket of Special Inquiry, forced a hearing in the Commissioners' +Court. + +"Let her in, kind gentlemen, and send back the other one. Tsirrele +will go back with me. It does not matter about the little one." + +The kind gentlemen on the bench were really kind, but America must be +protected. + +"You can take the young one and the old one both back with you," the +interpreter told her. "But they are the only ones we can let in." + +Leah and Biela were driven back among the damned. The favoured twain +stood helplessly in their happier compartment. Even Tsirrele, the +squirrel, was dazed. Presently the spruce Srul arrived--to find the +expected raptures replaced by funereal misery. He wormed his way +dizzily into the cage of the rejected. It was not the etiquette of the +Pale to kiss one's betrothed bride, but Srul stared dully at Biela +without even touching her hand, as if the Atlantic already rolled +again between them. Here was a pretty climax to the dreams of years! + +"My poor Srul, we must go back to Hamburg to be married," faltered +Biela. + +"And give up my store?" Srul wailed. "Here the dollar spins round. We +have now what one names a boom. There is no land on earth like ours." + +The forlornness of the others stung Leah to her senses. + +"Listen, Srul," she said hurriedly. "It is all my fault, because I +wanted to share in the happiness. I ought not to have come. If we had +not been together they never would have suspected Biela's eyes--who +would notice the little touch of inflammation which is the most she +has ever suffered from? She shall come again in another ship, all +alone--for she knows now how to travel. Is it not so, Biela, my lamb? +I will see you on board, and Srul will meet you here, although not +till you have passed the doctor, so that no one will have a chance of +remembering you. It will cost a heap, alas! but I can get some work in +Hamburg, and the Jews there have hearts of gold. Eh, Biela, my poor +lamb?" + +"Yes, yes, Leah, you can always give yourself a counsel," and Biela +put her wet face to her sister's, and kissed the pock-marked cheek. + +Srul acquiesced eagerly. No one remembered for the moment that Leah +would be left alone in the Old World. The problem of effecting the +bride's entry blocked all the horizon. + +"Yes, yes," said Srul. "The mother will look after Tsirrele, and in +less than three weeks Biela will slip in." + +"No, three weeks is too soon," said Leah. "We must wait a little +longer till the doctor forgets." + +"Oh, but I have already waited so long!" whimpered Srul. + +Leah's eyes filled with sympathetic tears. "I ought not to have made +so much fuss. Now she will stick in the doctor's mind. Forgive me, +dear Srul, I will do my best and try to make amends." + +Leah and Biela were taken away to the hospital, where they remained +isolated from the world till the steamer sailed back to Hamburg. +Herein, generously lodged, they had ample leisure to review the +situation. Biela discovered that the new plan would leave Leah +deserted, Leah remembered that she would be deserting little Tsirrele. +Both were agreed that Tsirrele must go back with them, till they +bethought themselves that her passage would have to be paid for, as +she was not refused. And every kopeck was precious now. "Let the child +stay till I get back," said Biela. "Then I will send her to you." + +"Yes, it is best to let her stay awhile. I myself may be able to join +you after all. I will go back to Koenigsberg, and the great doctor will +write me out a certificate that my affliction is not contagious." + +At the very worst--if even Biela could not get in--Srul should sell +his store and come back to the Old World. It would put off the +marriage again. But they had waited so long. "So let us cheer up after +all, and thank the Lord for His mercies. We might all have been +drowned on the voyage." + +Thus the sisters' pious conclusion. + +But though Srul and his mother and Tsirrele got on board to see them +off, and Tsirrele gave graphic accounts of the wonders of the store +and the rooms prepared for the bride, to say nothing of the great +city itself, and Srul brought Biela and Leah splendid specimens of his +stock for their adornment, yet it was a horrible thing for them to go +back again without having once trodden the sidewalks of the Land of +Promise. And when the others were tolled off, as by a funeral bell, +and became specks in a swaying crowd; when the dock receded and the +cheers and good-byes faded, and the waving handkerchiefs became a +blur, and the Statue of Liberty dwindled, and the lone waste of waters +faced them once more, Leah's optimism gave way, a chill sinister +shadow fell across her new plan, some ominous intuition traversed her +like a shudder, and she turned away lest Biela should see her tears. + + +VII + +This despair did not last long. It was not in Leah's nature to +despair. But her wildest hopes were exceeded when she set foot again +in Hamburg and explained her hard case to the good committee, and a +member gave her an informal hint which was like a flash of light from +Heaven--its answer to her ceaseless prayer. Ellis Island was not the +only way of approaching the Land of Promise. You could go round about +through Canada, where they were not so particular, and you could slip +in by rail from Montreal without attracting much attention. True, +there was the extra expense. + +Expense! Leah would have gladly parted with her last rouble to unite +Biela with her bridegroom. There must be no delay. A steamer for +Canada was waiting to sail. What a fool she had been not to think that +out for herself! Yes, but there was Biela's timidity again to +consider. Travel by herself through this unknown Canada! And then if +they were not so particular, why could not Leah slip through likewise? + +"Yes, but my eyes are more noticeable. I might again do you an +injury." + +"We will separate at the landing-stage and the frontier. We will +pretend to be strangers." Biela's wits were sharpened by the crisis. + +"Well, I can only lose the passage-money," said Leah, and resolved to +take the risk. She wrote a letter to Srul explaining the daring +invasion of New York overland which they were to attempt, and was +about to post it, when Biela said:-- + +"Poor Srul! And if I shall not get in after all!" Leah's face fell. + +"True," she pondered. "He will have a more heart-breaking +disappointment than before." + +"Let us not kindle their hopes. After all, if we get in, we shall only +be a few days later than our letter. And then think of the joy of the +surprise." + +"You are right, Biela," and Leah's face glowed again with the +anticipated joy of the surprise. + +The journey to Canada was longer than to the States, and the +"freight" was less companionable. There were fewer Jews and women, +more stalwart shepherds, miners, and dock-labourers. When after eleven +days, land came, it was not touched at, but only remained cheeringly +on the horizon for the rest of the voyage. At last the sisters found +themselves unmolested on one of the many wharves of Montreal. But they +would not linger a day in this unhomely city. The next morning saw +them, dazed and worn out but happy-hearted, dodging the monstrous +catapults of the New York motor-cars, while a Polish porter helped +them with their bundles and convoyed them toward Srul's store. Ah, +what ecstasy to be unregarded units of this free chaotic crowd. +Outside the store--what a wonderful store it was, larger than the +largest in the weavers' colony!--the sisters paused a moment to roll +the coming bliss under their tongues. They peeped in. Ah, there is +Srul behind the counter, waiting for customers. Ah, ah, he little +knows what customers are waiting for him! They turned and kissed each +other for mere joy. + +"Draw your shawl over your face," whispered Leah merrily. "Go in and +ask him if he has a wedding-veil." Biela slipped in, brimming over +with mischief and tears. + +"Yes, Miss?" said Srul, with his smartest store manner. + +"I want a wedding-veil of white lace," she said in Yiddish. At her +voice Srul started. Biela could keep up the joke no longer. "Srul, my +darling Srul!" she cried hysterically, her arms yearning to reach him +across the counter. + +He drew back, pale, gasping for breath. + +"Ah, my dear ones!" blubbered Leah, rushing in. "God has been good to +you, after all." + +"But--but--how did you get in?" he cried, staring. + +"Never mind how we got in," said Leah, every pock-mark glistening with +smiles and tears. "And where is Tsirrele--my dear little Tsirrele?" + +"She--she is out marketing, with the mother." + +"And the mother?" + +"She is well and happy." + +"Thank God!" said Leah fervently, and beckoned the porter with the +bundles. + +"But--but I let the room," he said, flushing. "I did not know that--I +could not afford--" + +"Never mind, we will find a room. The day is yet high." She settled +with the porter. + +Meantime Srul had begun playing nervously with a pair of scissors. He +snipped a gorgeous piece of stuff to fragments. + +"What are you doing?" said Biela at last. + +"Oh--I--" he burst into a nervous laugh. "And so you ran the blockade +after all. But--but I expect customers every minute--we can't talk +now. Go inside and rest, Biela: you will find a sofa in the parlour. +Leah, I want--I want to talk to you." + +Leah flashed a swift glance at him as Biela, vaguely chilled, moved +through the back door into the revivifying splendours of the parlour. + +"Something is wrong, Srul," Leah said hoarsely. "Tsirrele is not here. +You feared to tell us." + +He hung his head. "I did my best." + +"She is ill--dead, perhaps! My beautiful angel!" + +He opened his eyes. "Dead? No. Married!" + +"What! To whom?" + +He turned a sickly white. "To me." + +In all that long quest of the canopy, Leah had never come so near +fainting as now. The horror of Ellis Island was nothing to this. That +scene resurged, and Tsirrele's fresh beauty, unflecked by the voyage, +came up luridly before her; the "baby," whom the unnoted years had +made a young woman of fifteen, while they had been aging and staling +Biela. + +"But--but this will break Biela's heart," she whispered, heart-broken. + +"How was I to know Biela would _ever_ get in?" he said, trying to be +angry. "Was I to remain a bachelor all my life, breaking the +Almighty's ordinance? Did I not wait and wait faithfully for Biela all +those years?" + +"You could have migrated elsewhere," she said faintly. + +"And ruin my connection--and starve?" His anger was real by now. +"Besides I have married into the family--it is almost the same thing. +And the old mother is just as pleased." + +"Oh, she!" and all the endured bitterness of the long years was in the +exclamation. "All she wants is grandchildren." + +"No, it isn't," he retorted. "Grandchildren with good eyes." + +"God forgive you," was all the lump in Leah's throat allowed her to +reply. She steadied herself with a hand on the counter, striving to +repossess her soul for Biela's sake. + +A customer came in, and the tragic universe dwindled to a prosaic +place in which ribbons existed in unsatisfactory shades. + +"Of course we must go this minute," Leah said, as Srul clanked the +coins into the till. "Biela cannot ever live here with you now." + +"Yes, it is better so," he assented sulkily. "Besides, you may as well +know at once. I keep open on the Sabbath, and that would not have +pleased Biela. That is another reason why it was best not to marry +Biela. Tsirrele doesn't seem to mind." + +The very ruins of her world seemed toppling now. But this new +revelation of Tsirrele's and his own wickedness seemed only of a piece +with the first--indeed, went far to account for it. + +"You break the Sabbath, after all!" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "We are not in Poland any longer. No dead +flies here. Everybody does it. Shut the store two days a week! I +should get left." + +"And you bring your mother's gray hairs down with sorrow to the +grave." + +"My mother's gray hairs are no longer hidden by a stupid black +_Shaitel_. That is all. I have explained to her that America is the +land of enlightenment and freedom. Her eyes are opened." + +"I trust to God, your father's--peace be upon him!--are still shut!" +said Leah as she walked with slow steady steps into the parlour, to +bear off her wounded lamb. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +V + +TO DIE IN JERUSALEM + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +V + +TO DIE IN JERUSALEM + + +I + +The older Isaac Levinsky grew, and the more he saw of the world after +business hours, the more ashamed he grew of the Russian Rabbi whom +Heaven had curiously chosen for his father. At first it seemed natural +enough to shout and dance prayers in the stuffy little Spitalfields +synagogue, and to receive reflected glory as the son and heir of the +illustrious Maggid (preacher) whose four hour expositions of Scripture +drew even West End pietists under the spell of their celestial +crookedness. But early in Isaac's English school-life--for cocksure +philanthropists dragged the younger generation to anglicization--he +discovered that other fathers did not make themselves ridiculously +noticeable by retaining the gabardine, the fur cap, and the ear-locks +of Eastern Europe: nay, that a few--O, enviable sons!--could scarcely +be distinguished from the teachers themselves. + +When the guardian angels of the Ghetto apprenticed him, in view of his +talent for drawing, to a lithographic printer, he suffered agonies at +the thought of his grotesque parent coming to sign the indentures. + +"You might put on a coat to-morrow," he begged in Yiddish. + +The Maggid's long black beard lifted itself slowly from the worm-eaten +folio of the Babylonian Talmud, in which he was studying the tractate +anent the payment of the half-shekel head-tax in ancient Palestine. +"If he took the money from the second tithes or from the Sabbatical +year fruit," he was humming in his quaint sing-song, "he must eat the +full value of the same in the city of Jerusalem." As he encountered +his boy's querulous face his dream city vanished, the glittering +temple of Solomon crumbled to dust, and he remembered he was in exile. + +"Put on a coat?" he repeated gently. "Nay, thou knowest 'tis against +our holy religion to appear like the heathen. I emigrated to England +to be free to wear the Jewish dress, and God hath not failed to bless +me." + +Isaac suppressed a precocious "Damn!" He had often heard the story of +how the cruel Czar Nicholas had tried to make his Jews dress like +Christians, so as insidiously to assimilate them away; how the police +had even pulled off the unsightly cloth-coverings of the shaven polls +of the married women, to the secret delight of the pretty ones, who +then let their hair grow in godless charm. And, mixed up with this +story, were vaguer legends of raw recruits forced by their sergeants +to kneel on little broken stones till they perceived the superiority +of Christianity. + +How the Maggid would have been stricken to the heart to know that +Isaac now heard these legends with inverted sympathies! + +"The blind fools!" thought the boy, with ever growing bitterness. "To +fancy that religion can lie in clothes, almost as if it was something +you could carry in your pockets! But that's where most of their +religion does lie--in their pocket." And he shuddered with a vision of +greasy, huckstering fanatics. "And just imagine if I was sweet on a +girl, having to see all her pretty hair cut off! As for those +recruits, it served them right for not turning Christians. As if +Judaism was any truer! And the old man never thinks of how he is +torturing _me_--all the sharp little stones he makes _me_ kneel on." +And, looking into the future with the ambitious eye of conscious +cleverness, he saw the paternal gabardine over-glooming his life. + + +II + +One Friday evening--after Isaac had completed his 'prentice +years--there was anxiety in the Maggid's household in lieu of the +Sabbath peace. Isaac's seat at the board was vacant. The twisted +loaves seemed without salt, the wine of the consecration cup without +savour. + +The mother was full of ominous explanations. + +"Perturb not the Sabbath," reproved the gabardined saint gently, and +quoted the Talmud: "'No man has a finger maimed but 'tis decreed from +above." + +"Isaac has gone to supper somewhere else," suggested his little +sister, Miriam. + +"Children and fools speak the truth," said the Maggid, pinching her +cheek. + +But they had to go to bed without seeing him, as though this were only +a profane evening, and he amusing himself with the vague friends of +his lithographic life. They waited till the candles flared out, and +there seemed something symbolic in the gloom in which they groped +their way upstairs. They were all shivering, too, for the fire had +become gray ashes long since, the Sabbath Fire-Woman having made her +last round at nine o'clock and they themselves being forbidden to +touch even a candlestick or a poker. + +The sunrise revealed to the unclosed eyes of the mother that her boy's +bed was empty. It also showed--what she might have discovered the +night before had religion permitted her to enter his room with a +light--that the room was empty, too: empty of his scattered +belongings, of his books and sketches. + +"God in Heaven!" she cried. + +Her boy had run away. + +She began to wring her hands and wail with oriental amplitude, and +would have torn her hair had it not been piously replaced by a black +wig, neatly parted in the middle and now grotesquely placid amid her +agonized agitation. + +The Maggid preserved more outward calm. "Perhaps we shall find him in +synagogue," he said, trembling. + +"He has gone away, he will never come back. Woe is me!" + +"He has never missed the Sabbath service!" the Maggid urged. But +inwardly his heart was sick with the fear that she prophesied truly. +This England, which had seduced many of his own congregants to +Christian costume, had often seemed to him to be stealing away his +son, though he had never let himself dwell upon the dread. His sermon +that morning was acutely exegetical: with no more relation to his own +trouble than to the rest of contemporary reality. His soul dwelt in +old Jerusalem, and dreamed of Israel's return thither in some vague +millennium. When he got home he found that the postman had left a +letter. His wife hastened to snatch it. + +"What dost thou?" he cried. "Not to-day. When Sabbath is out." + +"I cannot wait. It is from him--it is from Isaac." + +"Wait at least till the Fire-Woman comes to open it." + +For answer the mother tore open the envelope. It was the boldest act +of her life--her first breach with the traditions. The Rabbi stood +paralyzed by it, listening, as without conscious will, to her sobbing +delivery of its contents. + +The letter was in Hebrew (for neither parent could read English), and +commenced abruptly, without date, address, or affectionate formality. +"This is the last time I shall write the holy tongue. My soul is +wearied to death of Jews, a blind and ungrateful people, who linger on +when the world no longer hath need of them, without country of their +own, nor will they enter into the blood of the countries that stretch +out their hands to them. Seek not to find me, for I go to a new world. +Blot out my name even as I shall blot out yours. Let it be as though I +was never begotten." + +The mother dropped the letter and began to scream hysterically. "I who +bore him! I who bore him!" + +"Hold thy peace!" said the father, his limbs shaking but his voice +firm. "He is dead. 'The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed +be the name of the Lord.' To-night we will begin to sit the seven +days' mourning. But to-day is the Sabbath." + +"My Sabbath is over for aye. Thou hast driven my boy away with thy +long prayers." + +"Nay, God hath taken him away for thy sins, thou godless +Sabbath-breaker! Peace while I make the Consecration." + +"My Isaac, my only son! We shall say _Kaddish_ (mourning-prayer) for +him, but who will say _Kaddish_ for us?" + +"Peace while I make the Consecration!" + +He got through with the prayer over the wine, but his breakfast +remained untasted. + + +III + +Re-reading the letter, the poor parents agreed that the worst had +happened. The allusions to "blood" and "the new world" seemed +unmistakable. Isaac had fallen under the spell of a beautiful heathen +female; he was marrying her in a church and emigrating with her to +America. Willy-nilly, they must blot him out of their lives. + +And so the years went by, over-brooded by this shadow of living death. +The only gleam of happiness came when Miriam was wooed and led under +the canopy by the President of the congregation, who sold +haberdashery. True, he spoke English well and dressed like a clerk, +but in these degenerate days one must be thankful to get a son-in-law +who shuts his shop on the Sabbath. + +One evening, some ten years after Isaac's disappearance, Miriam sat +reading the weekly paper--which alone connected her with the world and +the fulness thereof--when she gave a sudden cry. + +"What is it?" said the haberdasher. + +"Nothing--I thought--" And she stared again at the rough cut of a head +embedded in the reading matter. + +But no, it could not be! + +"Mr. Ethelred P. Wyndhurst, whose versatile talents have brought him +such social popularity, is rumoured to have budded out in a new +direction. He is said to be writing a comedy for Mrs. Donald O'Neill, +who, it will be remembered, sat to him recently for the portrait now +on view at the Azure Art Club. The dashing _comedienne_ will, it is +stated, produce the play in the autumn season. Mr. Wyndhurst's smart +sayings have often passed from mouth to mouth, but it remains to be +seen whether he can make them come naturally from the mouths of his +characters." + +What had these far-away splendours to do with Isaac Levinsky? With +Isaac and his heathen female across the Atlantic? + +And yet--and yet Ethelred P. Wyndhurst _was_ like Isaac--that +characteristic curve of the nose, those thick eyebrows! And perhaps +Isaac _had_ worked himself up into a portrait-painter. Why not? Did +not his old sketch of herself give distinction to her parlour? Her +heart swelled proudly at the idea. But no! more probably the face in +print was roughly drawn--was only accidentally like her brother. She +sighed and dropped the paper. + +But she could not drop the thought. It clung to her, wistful and +demanding satisfaction. The name of Ethelred P. Wyndhurst, whenever it +appeared in the paper--and it was surprising how often she saw it now, +though she had never noticed it before--made her heart beat with the +prospect of clews. She bought other papers, merely in the hope of +seeing it, and was not unfrequently rewarded. Involuntarily, her +imagination built up a picture of a brilliant romantic career that +only needed to be signed "Isaac." She began to read theatrical and +society journals on the sly, and developed a hidden life of +imaginative participation in fashionable gatherings. And from all this +mass of print the name Ethelred P. Wyndhurst disengaged itself with +lurid brilliancy. The rumours of his comedy thickened. It was +christened _The Sins of Society_. It was to be put on soon. It was not +written yet. Another manager had bid for it. It was already in +rehearsal. It was called _The Bohemian Boy_. It would not come on this +season. Miriam followed feverishly its contradictory career. And one +day there was a large picture of Isaac! Isaac to the life! She soared +skywards. But it adorned an interview, and the interview dropped her +from the clouds. Ethelred was born in Brazil of an English engineer +and a Spanish beauty, who performed brilliantly on the violin. He had +shot big game in the Rocky Mountains, and studied painting in Rome. + +The image of her mother playing the violin, in her preternaturally +placid wig, brought a bitter smile to Miriam's lips. And yet it was +hard to give up Ethelred now. It seemed like losing Isaac a second +time. And presently she reflected shrewdly that the wig and the +gabardine wouldn't have shown up well in print, that indeed Isaac in +his farewell letter had formally renounced them, and it was therefore +open to him to invent new parental accessories. Of course--fool that +she was!--how could Ethelred P. Wyndhurst acknowledge the same +childhood as Isaac Levinsky! Yes, it might still be her Isaac. + +Well, she would set the doubt at rest. She knew, from the wide reading +to which Ethelred had stimulated her, that authors appeared before the +curtain on first nights. She would go to the first night of _The +Whirligig_ (that was the final name), and win either joy or mental +rest. + +She made her expedition to the West End on the pretext of a sick +friend in Bow, and waited many hours to gain a good point of view in +the first row of the gallery, being too economical to risk more than a +shilling on the possibility of relationship to the dramatist. + +As the play progressed, her heart sank. Though she understood little +of the conversational paradoxes, it seemed to her--now she saw with +her physical eye this brilliant Belgravian world, in the stalls as +well as on the stage--that it was impossible her Isaac could be of +it, still less that it could be Isaac's spirit which marshalled so +masterfully these fashionable personages through dazzling +drawing-rooms; and an undercurrent of satire against Jews who tried to +get into society by bribing the fashionables, contributed doubly to +chill her. She shared in the general laughter, but her laugh was one +of hysterical excitement. + +But when at last amid tumultuous cries of "Author!" Isaac Levinsky +really appeared,--Isaac, transformed almost to a fairy prince, as +noble a figure as any in his piece, Isaac, the proved master-spirit of +the show, the unchallenged treader of all these radiant circles,--then +all Miriam's effervescing emotion found vent in a sobbing cry of joy. + +"Isaac!" she cried, stretching out her arms across the gallery bar. + +But her cry was lost in the applause of the house. + + +IV + +She wrote to him, care of the theatre. The first envelope she had to +tear up because it was inadvertently addressed to Isaac Levinsky. + +Her letter was a gush of joy at finding her dear Isaac, of pride in +his wonderful position. Who would have dreamed a lithographer's +apprentice would arrive at leading the fashions among the nobility and +gentry? But she had always believed in his talents; she had always +treasured the water-colour he had made of her, and it hung in the +parlour behind the haberdasher's shop into which she had married. He, +too, was married, they had imagined, and gone to America. But perhaps +he _was_ married, although in England. Would he not tell her? Of +course, his parents had cast him out of their hearts, though she had +heard mother call out his name in her sleep. But she herself thought +of him very often, and perhaps he would let her come to see him. She +would come very quietly when the grand people were not there, nor +would she ever let out that he was a Jew, or not born in Brazil. +Father was still pretty strong, thank God, but mother was rather +ailing. Hoping to see him soon, she remained his loving Miriam. + +She waited eagerly for his answer. Day followed day, but none came. + +When the days passed into weeks, she began to lose hope; but it was +not till _The Whirligig_, which she followed in the advertisement +columns, was taken off after a briefer run than the first night seemed +to augur, that she felt with curious conclusiveness that her letter +would go unanswered. Perhaps even it had miscarried. But it was now +not difficult to hunt out Ethelred P. Wyndhurst's address, and she +wrote him anew. + +Still the same wounding silence. After the lapse of a month, she +understood that what he had written in Hebrew was final; that he had +cut himself free once and forever from the swaddling coils of +gabardine, and would not be dragged back even within touch of its hem. +She wept over her second loss of him, but the persistent thought of +him had brought back many tender childish images, and it seemed +incredible that she would never really creep into his life again. He +had permanently enlarged her horizon, and she continued to follow his +career in the papers, worshipping it as it loomed grandiose through +her haze of ignorance. Gradually she began to boast of it in her more +English circles, and so in course of time it became known to all but +the parents that the lost Isaac was a shining light in high +heathendom, and a vast secret admiration mingled with the contempt of +the Ghetto for Ethelred P. Wyndhurst. + + +V + +In high heathendom a vast secret contempt mingled with the admiration +for Ethelred P. Wyndhurst. He had, it is true, a certain vogue, but +behind his back he was called a Jew. He did not deserve the stigma in +so far as it might have implied financial prosperity. His numerous +talents had only availed to prevent one another from being seriously +cultivated. He had had a little success at first with flamboyant +pictures, badly drawn, and well paragraphed; he had written tender +verses for music, and made quiet love to ugly and unhappy society +ladies; he was an assiduous first-nighter, and was suspected of +writing dramatic criticisms, even of his own comedy. And in that +undefined social segment where Kensington and Bohemia intersect, he +was a familiar figure (a too familiar figure, old fogies grumbled) +with an unenviable reputation as a diner-out--for the sake of the +dinner. + +Yet some of the people who called him "sponge" were not averse from +imbibing his own liquids when he himself played the gracious host. He +was appearing in that role one Sunday evening before a motley assembly +in his dramatically furnished studio, nay, he was in the very act of +biting into a sandwich scrupulously compounded with ham, when a +telegram was handed to him. + +"Another of those blessed actresses crying off," he said. "I wonder +how they ever manage to take up their cues!" + +Then his face changed as he hurriedly crumpled up the pinkish paper. + +"Mother is dying. No hope. She cries to see you. Have told her you are +in London. Father consents. Come at once.--MIRIAM." + +He put the crumpled paper to the gas and lit a new cigarette with it. + +"As I thought," he said, smiling. "When a woman is an actress as well +as a woman--" + + +VI + +After his wife died--vainly calling for her Isaac--the old Maggid was +left heart-broken. It was as if his emotions ran in obedient harmony +with the dictum of the Talmud: "Whoso sees his first wife's death is +as one who in his own day saw the Temple destroyed." + +What was there for him in life now but the ruins of the literal +Temple? He must die soon, and the dream that had always haunted the +background of his life began to come now into the empty foreground. If +he could but die in Jerusalem! + +There was nothing of consequence for him to do in England. His Miriam +was married and had grown too English for any real communion. True, +his congregation was dear to him, but he felt his powers waning: other +Maggidim were arising who could speak longer. + +To see and kiss the sacred soil, to fall prostrate where once the +Temple had stood, to die in an ecstasy that was already Gan-Iden +(Paradise)--could life, indeed, hold such bliss for him, life that had +hitherto proved a cup of such bitters? + +Life was not worth living, he agreed with his long-vanished +brother-Rabbis in ancient Babylon, it was only a burden to be borne +nobly. But if life was not worth living, death--in Jerusalem--was +worth dying. Jerusalem! to which he had turned three times a day in +praying, whose name was written on his heart, as on that of the +mediaeval Spanish singer, with whom he cried:-- + + "Who will make to me wings that I may fly ever Eastward, + Until my ruined heart shall dwell in the ruins of thee? + Then will I bend my face to thy sacred soil and hold precious + Thy very stones, yea e'en to thy dust shall I tender be. + + "Life of the soul is the air of thy land, and myrrh of the purest + Each grain of thy dust, thy waters sweetest honey of the comb. + Joyous my soul would be, could I even naked and barefoot, + Amid the holy ruins of thine ancient Temple roam, + Where the Ark was shrined, and the Cherubim in the Oracle + had their home." + +To die in Jerusalem!--that were success in life. + +Here he was lonely. In Jerusalem he would be surrounded by a glorious +host. Patriarchs, prophets, kings, priests, rabbonim--they all hovered +lovingly over its desolation, whispering heavenly words of comfort. + +But now a curious difficulty arose. The Maggid knew from +correspondence with Jerusalem Rabbis that a Russian subject would have +great difficulty in slipping in at Jaffa or Beyrout, even aided by +_bakhshish_. The only safe way was to enter as a British subject. +Grotesque irony of the fates! For nigh half a century the old man had +lived in England in his gabardine, and now that he was departing to +die in gabardine lands, he was compelled to seek naturalization as a +voluntary Englishman! He was even compelled to account mendaciously +for his sudden desire to identify himself with John Bull's +institutions and patriotic prejudices, and to live as a free-born +Englishman. By the aid of a rich but pious West End Jew, who had +sometimes been drawn Eastwards by the Maggid's exegetical eloquence, +all difficulties were overcome. Armed with a passport, signed floridly +as with a lion's tail rampant, the Maggid--after a quasi-death-bed +blessing to Miriam by imposition of hands from the railway-carriage +window upon her best bonnet--was whirled away toward his holy +dying-place. + + +VII + +Such disappointment as often befalls the visionary when he sees the +land of his dreams was spared to the Maggid, who remained a visionary +even in the presence of the real; beholding with spiritual eye the +refuse-laden alleys and the rapacious _Schnorrers_ (beggars). He lived +enswathed as with heavenly love, waiting for the moment of transition +to the shining World-To-Come, and his supplications at the Wailing Wall +for the restoration of Zion's glory had, despite their sympathetic +fervour, the peaceful impersonality of one who looks forward to no +worldly kingdom. To outward view he lived--in the rare intervals when +he was not at a synagogue or a house-of-learning--somewhere up a dusky +staircase in a bleak, narrow court, in one tiny room supplemented by a +kitchen in the shape of a stove on the landing, itself a centre of +pilgrimage to _Schnorrers_ innumerable, for whom the rich English +Maggid was an unexpected windfall. Rich and English were synonymous in +hungry Jerusalem, but these beggars' notion of charity was so modest, +and the coin of the realm so divisible, that the Maggid managed to +gratify them at a penny a dozen. At uncertain intervals he received a +letter from Miriam, written in English. The daughter had not carried on +the learned tradition of the mother, and so the Maggid was wont to have +recourse to the head of the philanthropic technical school for the +translation of her news into Hebrew. There was, however, not much of +interest; Miriam's world had grown too alien: she could scrape together +little to appeal to the dying man. And so his last ties with the past +grew frailer and frailer, even as his body grew feebler and feebler, +until at last, bent with great age and infirmity, so that his white +beard swept the stones, he tottered about the sacred city like an +incarnation of its holy ruin. He seemed like one bent over the verge of +eternity, peering wistfully into its soundless depths. Surely God would +send his Death-Angel now. + +Then one day a letter from Miriam wrenched him back violently from his +beatific vision, jerked him back to that other eternity of the dead +past. + +Isaac, Isaac had come home! Had come home to find desolation. Had then +sought his sister, and was now being nursed by her through his dying +hours. His life had come to utter bankruptcy: his possessions--by a +cruel coincidence--had been sold up at the very moment that the +doctors announced to him that he was a doomed man. And his death-bed +was a premature hell of torture and remorse. He raved incessantly for +his father. Would he not annul the curse, grant him his blessing, +promise to say _Kaddish_ for his soul, that he might be saved from +utter damnation? Would he not send his forgiveness by return, for +Isaac's days were numbered, and he could not linger on more than a +month or so? + +The Maggid was terribly shaken. He recalled bitterly the years of +suffering, crowned by Isaac's brutal heedlessness to the cry of his +dying mother: but the more grievous the boy's sin, the more awful the +anger of God in store for him. + +And the mother--would not her own Gan-Iden be spoilt by her boy's +agonizing in hell? For her sake he must forgive his froward offspring; +perhaps God would be more merciful, then. The merits of the father +counted: he himself was blessed beyond his deserts by the merits of +the Fathers--of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. He had made the pilgrimage +to Jerusalem; perhaps his prayers would be heard at the Mercy-Seat. + +With shaking hand the old man wrote a letter to his son, granting him +a full pardon for the sin against himself, but begging him to entreat +God day and night. And therewith an anthology of consoling Talmudical +texts: "A man should pray for Mercy even till the last clod is thrown +upon his grave.... For Repentance and Prayer and Charity avert the +Evil Decree." The Charity he was himself distributing to the startled +_Schnorrers_. + +The schoolmaster wrote out the envelope, as usual, but the Maggid did +not post the letter. The image of his son's death-bed was haunting +him. Isaac called to him in the old boyish tones. Could he let his boy +die there without giving him the comfort of his presence, the visible +assurance of his forgiveness, the touch of his hands upon his head in +farewell blessing? No, he must go to him. + +But to leave Jerusalem at his age? Who knew if he would ever get back +to die there? If he should miss the hope of his life! But Isaac kept +calling to him--and Isaac's mother. Yes, he had strength for the +journey. It seemed to come to him miraculously, like a gift from +Heaven and a pledge of its mercy. + +He journeyed to Beyrout, and after a few days took ship for +Marseilles. + + +VIII + +Meantime in the London Ghetto the unhappy Ethelred P. Wyndhurst found +each day a year. He was in a rapid consumption: a disorderly life had +told as ruinously upon his physique as upon his finances. And with +this double collapse had come a strange irresistible resurgence of +early feelings and forgotten superstitions. The avenging hand was +heavy upon him in life,--what horrors yet awaited him when he should +be laid in the cold grave? The shadow of death and judgment +over-brooded him, clouding his brain almost to insanity. + +There would be no forgiveness for him--his father's remoteness had +killed his hope of that. It was the nemesis, he felt, of his refusal +to come to his dying mother. God had removed his father from his +pleadings, had wrapped him in an atmosphere holy and aloof. How should +Miriam's letter penetrate through the walls of Jerusalem, pierce +through the stonier heart hardened by twenty years of desertion! + +And so the day after she had sent it, the spring sunshine giving him a +spurt of strength and courage, a desperate idea came to him. If he +could go to Jerusalem himself! If he could fall upon his father's +neck, and extort his blessing! + +And then, too, he would die in Jerusalem! + +Some half-obliterated text sounded in his ears: "And the land shall +forgive sin." + +He managed to rise--his betaking himself to bed, he found, as the +sunshine warmed him, had been mere hopelessness and self-pity. Let him +meet Death standing, aye, journeying to the sun-lands. Nay, when +Miriam, getting over the alarm of his up-rising, began to dream of the +Palestine climate curing him, he caught a last flicker of optimism, +spoke artistically of the glow and colour of the East, which he had +never seen, but which he might yet live to render on canvas, winning a +new reputation. Yes, he would start that very day. Miriam pledged her +jewellery to supply him with funds, for she dared not ask her husband +to do more for the stranger. + +But long before Ethelred P. Wyndhurst reached Jaffa he knew that only +the hope of his father's blessing was keeping him alive. + +Somewhere at sea the ships must have passed each other. + + +IX + +When the gabardined Maggid reached Miriam's house, his remains of +strength undermined by the long journey, he was nigh stricken dead on +the door-step by the news that his journey was vain. + +"It is the will of God," he said hopelessly. The sinner was beyond +mercy. He burst into sobs and tears ran down his pallid cheeks and +dripped from his sweeping white beard. + +"Thou shouldst have let us know," said Miriam gently. "We never +dreamed it was possible for thee to come." + +"I came as quickly as a letter could have announced me." + +"But thou shouldst have cabled." + +"Cabled?" The process had never come within his ken. "But how should +I dream he could travel? Thy letter said he was on his death-bed. I +prayed God I might but arrive in time." + +He was for going back at once, but Miriam put him to bed--the bed +Isaac should have died in. + +"Thou canst cable thy forgiveness, at least," she said, and so, +without understanding this new miracle, he bade her ask the +schoolmaster to convey his forgiveness to his son. + +"Isaac will inquire for me, if he arrives alive," he said. "The +schoolmaster will hear of him. It is a very small place, alas! for God +hath taken away its glory by reason of our sins." + +The answer came the same afternoon. "Message just in time. Son died +peacefully." + +The Maggid rent his bed-garment. "Thank God!" he cried. "He died in +Jerusalem. Better he than I! Isaac died in Jerusalem! God will have +mercy on his soul." + +Tears of joy sprang to his bleared eyes. "He died in Jerusalem," he +kept murmuring happily at intervals. "My Isaac died in Jerusalem." + +Three days later the Maggid died in London. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VI + +BETHULAH + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VI + +BETHULAH + + +I + +The image of her so tragically trustful in that mountain village of +Bukowina still haunts my mind, and refuses to be exorcised, as of +yore, by the prose of life. One who is very dear to me advises driving +her out at the point of the pen. Whether such recording of my life's +strangest episode will lay these memories or not, the story itself may +at least instruct my fellow-Jews in New York how variously their +religion has manifested itself upon this perplexing planet. Doubtless +many are still as ignorant as I was respecting their mediaeval +contemporaries in Eastern Europe. True, they have now opportunities in +their own Ghetto--which is, for cosmopolitanism, a New York within a +New York--of studying strata from other epochs of Judaism spread out +on the same plane of time as their own, even as upon the white sheet +of that wonderful invention my aged eyes have lived to see, sequent +events may be pictured simultaneously. In my youth these opportunities +did not exist. Only in Baltimore and a few of the great Eastern +cities was there any aggregation of Jews, and these were all--or +wanted to be--good Yankees; while beyond the Mississippi, where my +father farmed and hunted like a Christian, and where you might have +scoured a thousand square miles to get _minyan_ (ten Jews for +worship), our picturesque customs and ceremonies dwindled away from +sheer absence of fellowship. My father used to tell of a bronzed +trapper he breakfasted with on the prairie, who astonished him by +asking him over their bacon if he were a Jew. "Yes," said my father. +"Shake!" said the trapper. "You're the first fellow-Jew I've met for +twenty years." Though in my childhood my father taught me the Hebrew +he had brought from Europe, and told me droll Jewish stories in his +native German, it will readily be understood that the real influences +I absorbed were the great American ideals of liberty and humanity, +emancipation and enlightenment, and that therefore the strange things +I witnessed among the Carpathians were far more startling to me than +they can be to the Jews of to-day upon whom the Old World has poured +its archaic inhabitants. Nevertheless, I cannot but think that even +those who have met strange drifts of sects in New York will be +astonished by the tradition which I stumbled upon so blindly in my +first European tour. For, so far as I can gather, the Zloczszol legend +is unique in Jewish history and confined exclusively to this +out-of-the-way corner, however near other heresies may have approached +to some of the underlying conceptions. My landlord Yarchi's view that +it was a mere piece of local commercial myth-making, a gross artifice, +would have at least the merit of explaining this uniqueness. It has, +in my eyes, no other. + +This tour of mine was to make not a circle, but a half-circle, for, +landing at Hamburg I was to return by the Baltic, after a circuit +through Berlin, Prague, Vienna, Buda-Pesth, Lemberg, (where my +grandfather had once been a rabbi of consideration), Moscow, and St. +Petersburg. I did not linger at Hamburg; purchasing a stout horse, I +started on my long ride. Of course it did not seem so long to me--who +had already ridden from Kansas to both of our seaboards--as it would +to a young gentleman of to-day accustomed to parlour cars, though the +constant change of dialects and foods was somewhat unsettling. + +But money speaks all languages, and a good Western stomach digests all +diets. Bad water, however, no stomach can cope with; and I was laid up +at Prague with a fever, which left me too weak to hurry on. I rambled +about the Ghetto--the Judenstadt--which gave me my first insight into +mediaeval Judaism, and was fascinated by the quaint alleys and houses, +the Jewish town-hall, and the cellarlike _Alt-Neu_ synagogue with its +miraculous history of unnumbered centuries. I heard the story of the +great red flag on the pillar, with its "shield of David" and the +Swede's hat, and was shown on the walls the spatterings of the blood +of the martyrs of 1389. + +What emotions I had in the old graveyard--a Ghetto of the dead--where +the graves were huddled together, three and four deep, and the very +tombstones and corpses had undergone Ghetto persecution! A whole new +world opened out to me, crooked as the Ghetto alleys--so alien from +the free life of the flowering prairies--as I walked about this +"Judengarten," studying the Hebrew inscriptions and the strange +symbolic sculptures--the Priest's hands of blessing, the Levite's +ewer, the Israelites' bunch of grapes, the Virgin with roses--and +trying to reconstruct the life these dead had lived. Strange ancestral +memories seemed thrilling through me, helping me to understand. Many +stories did I hear, too, of the celebrated Rabbi Loew, and of the +_golem_ he created, which brought him his meals: in sign whereof I was +shown his grave, and his house marked with a lion on a blue +background. I listened with American incredulity but hereditary +sympathy. I was astonished to find men who still believed in a certain +Sabbatai Zevi, Messiah of the Jews, and one showed me a Sabbatian +prayer-book with a turbaned head of this Redeemer side by side with +King David's, and another who scoffed at this seventeenth-century +impostor, yet told me the tradition in his own family, how they had +sold their business and were about to start for Palestine, when the +news reached them that so far from deposing the Sultan, this Redeemer +of Israel had become his doorkeeper and a Mohammedan. + +The year was passing toward the Fall ere I got to Buda-Pesth (in those +days the enchanted gateway of the Orient, resounding with gypsy music, +and not the civilized capital I found it the other day), and I had not +proceeded far on the northerly bend of my journey when, soon after +crossing the Carpathians, I was imprisoned in the mountain village of +Zloczszol by the sudden overflow of the Dniester. The village itself +was sheltered from the floods by a mountain between it and the +tributary of the Dniester; but all the roads northward were +impassable, and the water came round by clefts and soused our +bordering fields and oozed very near the maize-garden of Yarchi's pine +cottage, to which I had removed from the dirty inn, where a squalling +baby in a cradle had shared the private sitting-room. It was a very +straggling village, which began to straggle at the mountain-foot, but, +for fear of avalanches, I was told, the houses did not grow +companionable till some half a mile down the plain. + +In the centre of the village was a cobble-paved "Ring-Place" and +market-place, on which gave a few streets of shops (the +provision-shops benefiting hugely by the floods, which made imports +difficult). It was a Jewish colony, with the exception of a few +outlying farms, whose peasants brought touches of gorgeous colour into +the procession of black gabardines. It was strange to me to live in a +place in which every door-post bore a _Mezuzah_. It gave me a novel +sense of being in a land of Israel, and sometimes I used to wonder how +these people could feel such a sense of local patriotism as seemed to +possess them. And yet I reflected that, like the giant cedar of +Lebanon which rose from the plain in such strange contrast with the +native trees of Zloczszol, Israel could be transplanted everywhere, +and was made of as enduring and undying a wood--nay, that, even like +this cedar-wood, it had strange properties of conserving other +substances and arresting putrefaction. Hence its ubiquitous patriotism +was universally profitable. Nevertheless, this was one of the +surprises of my journey--to find Jews speaking every language under +the European sun, regarding themselves everywhere as part of the soil, +and often patriotic to the point of resenting immigrant Jews as +foreigners. I myself was popularly known as "the Stranger," though I +was not resented, because the couple of dollars at which I purchased +the privilege of "ark-opening" on my first visit to the synagogue--a +little Gothic building standing in a court-yard--gave me a further +reputation as "the rich stranger." Once I blushed to overhear myself +called "the handsome stranger," and I looked into my cracked mirror +with fresh interest. But I told myself modestly a stalwart son of the +prairies had an unfair advantage in such a world of stooping sallow +students. Certainly I felt myself favoured both in youth and looks +when I stepped into the Beth-Hamedrash, the house of study (which I +had at first taken for a little mosque, like those I had seen on the +slopes of Buda), and watched the curious gnarled graybeards crooning +and rocking the livelong day over worm-eaten folios. + +Despite such odd glimpses of the interesting, I grew as tired of +waiting for the waters to abate as Noah himself must have felt in his +zoological institute. + +One day as I was gazing from my one-story window at the melancholy +marsh to which the flood had reduced the landscape, I said glumly to +my hunchbacked landlord, who stood snuffing himself under the porch, +"I suppose it will be another week before I can get away." + +"Alas! yes," Yarchi replied. + +"Why alas?" I asked. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, and +the longer I stay the better for you." + +He shook his head. "The flood that keeps you here keeps away the +pilgrims." + +"The pilgrims!" I echoed. + +"Ay," said he. "There will be three in that bed of yours." + +"But what pilgrims?" + +He stared at me. "Don't you know the New Year is nigh?" + +"Of course," I said mendaciously. I felt ashamed to confess my +ignorant unconcern as to the proximity of the solemn season of +ram's-horn blasts and penitence. + +"Well, it is at New Year the pilgrims flock to their Wonder Rabbi, +that he may hear their petitions and bear them on high, likewise +wrestle with Satan, and entreat for their forgiveness at the throne of +Grace." There was a twinkle in Yarchi's eyes not quite consistent with +the gravity of his words. + +"Do Wonder Rabbis live nowadays?" I asked. + +A pinch of snuff Yarchi was taking fell from between his fingers. "Do +they live!" he cried. "Yes--and off white bread, for poverty!" + +"We have none in America. I only heard of one in Prague," I murmured +apologetically, fearing the genus might be of the very elements of +Judaism. + +"Ah, yes, the high Rabbi Loew, his memory for a blessing," he said +reverently. "But these new Wonder Rabbis can only work one miracle." + +"What is that?" I asked. + +"The greatest of all--making their worshippers support them like +princes." And he laughed in admiration of his own humour. + +"Then you are a heretic?" I said. + +"Heretic!" Yarchi's black eyes exchanged their twinkle for a flash of +resentment. "Nay; they are the heretics, breeding dissension in +Israel. Did they not dance on the grave of the sainted Elijah Wilna?" + +Tired of tossing the ball of conversation up and down, I left the +window and joined the philosopher under his porch, where I elicted +from him his version of the eighteenth-century movement of +_Chassidim_, (the pious ones), which, in these days of English books +on Judaism, will not be so new to American Jews as it was to me. These +Shakers (or, as we should perhaps say nowadays, Salvationists), these +protestants against cut-and-dried Judaism, who arose among the +Carpathians under the inspiration of Besht (a word which Yarchi +explained to me was made out of the initials of Baal Shem Tob--the +Master of the Good Name), had, it seemed, pullulated into a thousand +different sects, each named after the Wonder Rabbi whom it swore by, +and in whose "exclusive divine right" (the phrase is Yarchi's) it +believed. + +"But _we_ have the divinest chief," concluded Yarchi, grinning. + +"That's what they all say, eh?" I said, smiling in response. + +"Yes; but the Zloczszol rabbi is stamped with the royal seal. He +professes to be of the Messianic seed, a direct descendant of David, +the son of Jesse." And the hunchback chuckled with malicious humour. + +"I should like to see him," I said, feeling as if Providence had +provided a new interest for my boredom. + +Yarchi pointed silently with his discoloured thumb over the plain. + +"You don't mean he is kept in that storehouse!" I said. + +Yarchi guffawed in high good-humour. + +"That! That's the _Klaus_!" + +"And what's the _Klaus_?" + +"The _Chassidim Stubele_ (little room)." + +"Is that where the miracles are done?" + +"No; that's their synagogue." + +"Oh, they just pray there!" + +"Pray? They get as drunk as Lot." + + +II + +I returned to my window and gazed curiously at the _Klaus_, and now +that my eye was upon it I saw it was astir with restless life. Men +came and went continually. I looked toward the synagogue, and the more +pretentious building seemed dead. Then I remembered what Yarchi had +told me, that the _Chassidim_ had revolted against set prayer-times. +("They pray and drink at all hours," was his way of putting it.) +Something must always be forward in the _Klaus_, I thought, as I took +my hat and stick, on exploring bent. Instinctively I put my pistol in +my hip pocket, then bethought myself with a laugh that I was not +likely to be molested by the "pious ones." But as it was unloaded, I +let it remain in the pocket. + +I slipped into the building and on to a bench near the door. But for +the veiled Ark at the end, I should not have known the place for a +house of worship. True, some men were sitting or standing about, +shouting and singing, with odd spasmodic gestures, but the bulk were +lounging, smoking clay pipes, drinking coffee, and chattering, while a +few, looking like tramps, lay snoring on the hard benches, deaf to all +the din. My eye sought at once for the Wonder Rabbi himself, but amid +the many quaint physiognomies there was none with any apparent seal of +supremacy. The note of all the faces was easy-going good-will, and +even the passionate contortions of melody and body which the +worshippers produced, the tragic clutchings at space, the clinching of +fists, and the beating of breasts had an air of cheery impromptu. They +seemed to enjoy their very tears. And every now and then the +inspiration would catch one of the gossipers and contort him likewise, +while a worshipper would as suddenly fall to gossiping. + +Very soon a frost-bitten old man I remembered coming across in the +cemetery on the mountain-slope, where he was sweeping the fallen +leaves from a tomb, and singing like the grave-digger in _Hamlet_, +sidled up to me and asked me if I needed vodka. I thought it advisable +to need some, and was quickly supplied from a box the old fellow +seemed to keep under the Ark. The price was so moderate that I tipped +him with as much again, doubtless to the enhancement of the "rich +stranger's" reputation. Sipping it, I was able to follow with more +show of ease the bursts of rambling conversation. Sometimes they +talked about the floods, anon about politics, then about sacred texts +and the illuminations of the _Zohar_. But there was one topic which +ran like a winding pattern through all the talk, bursting in at the +most unexpected places, and this was the wonders wrought by their +rabbi. + +As they dilated "with enkindlement" upon miracle after miracle, some +wrought on earth and some in the higher spheres to which his soul +ascended, my curiosity mounted, and calling for more vodka, "Where is +the rabbi?" I asked the sexton. + +"He may perhaps come down to lunch," said he, in reverent accents, as +if to imply that the rabbi was now in the upper spheres. I waited till +tables were spread with plain fare in the _Klaus_ itself. At the +savour the fountain of worship was sealed; the snorers woke up. I was +invited to partake of the meal, which, I was astonished to find, was +free to all, provided by the rabbi. + +"Truly royal hospitality," I thought. But our royal host himself did +not "come down." + +My neighbour, of whom I kept inquiring, at last told me, +sympathetically, to have patience till Friday evening, when the rabbi +would come to welcome in the Sabbath. But as it was then Tuesday, +"Cannot I call upon him?" I asked. + +He shook his head. "Ben David holds his court no more this year," he +said. "He is in seclusion, preparing for the exalted soul-flights of +the pilgrim season. The Sabbath is his only public day now." + +There was nothing for it but to wait till the Friday eve, though in +the meantime I got Yarchi to show me the royal palace--a plain +two-storied Oriental-looking building with a flat roof, and a turret +on the eastern side, whose high, ivy-mantled slit of window turned at +the first rays of the sun into a great diamond. + +"He couldn't come down, couldn't he?" Yarchi commented. "I daresay he +wasn't sober enough." + +Somehow this jarred upon me. I was beginning to conjure up romantic +pictures, and assuredly my one glimpse of the sect had not shown any +intoxication save psychic. + +"He is very generous, anyhow," I said. "He supplies a free lunch." + +"Free to him," retorted the incorrigible Yarchi. "The worshippers +fancy it is free, but it is they who pay for it." And he snuffed +himself, chuckling. "I'll tell you what is free," he added. "His +morals!" + +"But how do you know?" + +"Oh, all those fellows go in for the Adamite life." + +"What is the Adamite life?" + +He winked. "Not the pre-Evite." + +I saw it was fruitless to reason with his hunchbacked view of the +subject. + +On the Friday eve I repaired again to the _Klaus_, but this time it +was not so easy to find a seat. However, by the grace of my friend the +sexton, I was accommodated near the Ark, where, amid a congregation +clad in unexpected white, I sat, a conscious black discord. There was +a certain palpitating fervour in the air, as though the imminence of +the New Year and Judgment Day had strung all spirits to a higher +tension. Suddenly a shiver seemed to run through the assemblage, and +all eyes turned to the door. A tall old man, escorted by several +persons of evident consideration, walked with erect head but tottering +gait to the little platform in front of the Ark, and, taking a +praying-shawl from the reverential hand of the sexton, held it a +moment, as in abstraction, before drawing it over his head and +shoulders. As he stood thus, almost facing me, yet unconscious of me, +his image was photographed on my excited brain. He seemed very aged, +with abundant white locks and beard, and he was clothed in a white +satin robe cut low at the neck and ornamented at the breast with +gold-laced, intersecting triangles of "the Shield of David." + +On his head was a sort of white biretta. I noted a curious streak of +yellow in the silvered eyebrows, as if youth clung on, so to speak, +by a single hair, and underneath these arrestive eyebrows green pupils +alternately glowed and smouldered. On his forefinger he wore a signet +ring, set with amethysts and with a huge Persian emerald, which, as +his hand rose and fell, and his fingers clasped and unclasped +themselves in the convulsion of prayer, seemed to glare at me like a +third green eye. And as soon as he began thus praying, every trace of +age vanished. He trembled, but only from emotion; and his passion +mounted, till at last his whole body prayed. And the congregation +joined in with shakings and quiverings and thunderings and ululations. +Not even in Prague had I experienced such sympathetic emotion. After +the well-regulated frigidities of our American services, it was truly +warming to be among worshippers not ashamed to feel. Hours must have +passed, but I sat there as content as any. When the service ended, +everybody crowded round the Wonder Rabbi to give the "Good Sabbath" +handshake. The scene jarred me by its incongruous suggestion of our +American receptions at which the lion of the evening must extend his +royal paw to every guest. But I went up among the rest, and murmured +my salutation. The glow came into his eyes as they became conscious of +me for the first time, and his gaunt bloodless hand closed crushingly +on mine, so that I almost fancied the signet ring was sealing my +flesh. + +"Good Sabbath, stranger," he replied. "You linger long here." + +"As long as the floods," I said. + +"Are you as dangerous to us?" he flashed back. + +"I trust not," I said, a whit startled. + +His jewelled forefinger drummed on the reading-stand, and his eyes no +longer challenged mine, but were lowered as in abstraction. + +"Your grandfather, who lies in Lemberg, was no friend to the followers +of Besht. He laid the ban even on white Sabbath garments, and those +who but wept in the synagogues he classed with us." + +I was more taken aback by his knowledge of my grandfather than by that +ancient gentleman's hostility to the emotional heresy of his day. + +"I never saw my grandfather," I replied simply. + +"True. The son of the prairies should know more of God than the +bookworms. Will you accept a seat at my table?" + +"With pleasure, Rabbi," I murmured, dazed by his clairvoyant air. + +They were now arranging the two tables, one with a white cloth for the +master and his circle in strict order of precedence; and the other of +bare wood for such of the rabble as could first scramble into the +seats. I was placed on his right hand, and became at once an object of +wonder and awe. The _Kiddush_ which initiated the supper was not a +novel ceremony to me, but what I had never seen before was the +eagerness with which each guest sipped from the circulating wine-cup +of consecration, and the disappointment of such of the mob as could +find no drop to drain. Still fiercer was the struggle for the Wonder +Rabbi's soup, after he had taken a couple of spoonfuls; even I had no +chance of distinction before this sudden simultaneous swoop, though of +course I had my own plateful to drink. As sudden was the transition +from soup to song, the whole company singing and swaying in victorious +ecstasy. I turned to speak to my host, but his face awed me. The eyes +had now their smouldering inward fire. The eyebrows seemed wholly +white; the features were still. Then as I watched him his whole body +grew rigid, he closed his eyes, his head fell back. The singing +ceased; as tense a silence reigned as though the followers too were in +a trance. My eyes were fixed on the Master's blind face, which had now +not the dignity of death, but only the indignity of lifelessness, and, +but for the suggestion of mystery behind, would have ceased to impress +me. For there was now revealed a coarseness of lips, a narrowness of +forehead, an ugliness of high cheek-bone, which his imperial glance +had transfigured, and which his flowing locks still abated. But as I +gazed, the weird stillness took possession of me. I could not but feel +with the rest that the Master was making a "soul-ascension." + +It seemed very long--yet it may have been only a few minutes, for in +absolute silence one's sense of time is disconcerted--ere waves of +returning life began to traverse the cataleptic face and form. At last +the Wonder Rabbi opened his eyes, and the hush grew profounder. Every +ear was astrain for the revelations to come. + +"Children," said he slowly, "as I passed through the circles the souls +cried to me. 'Haste, haste, for the Evil One plotteth and the +Messianic day will be again delayed.' So I rose into the ante-chamber +of Grace where the fiery wheels sang 'Holy, holy,' and there I came +upon the Poison God waiting to see the glory of the Little Face. And +with him was a soul, very strange, such as I had never seen, living +neither in heaven nor hell, perchance created of Satan himself for his +instrument. Then with a great cry I uttered the Name, and the Poison +God fled with a great fluttering, leaving the nameless, naked soul +helpless amid the consuming, dazzling wheels. So I returned through +the circles to reassure the souls, and they shouted with a great +shout." + +"Hallelujah!" came in a great shout from the wrought-up listeners, and +then they burst into a lilting chant of triumph. But by this time my +mood had changed. The spell of novelty had begun to wear off; perhaps +also I was fatigued by the long strain. I recalled the coarser face of +the comatose saint, and I found nothing but gibberish in the oracular +"revelation" which he had brought down with such elaborate pains from +the circles amid which he seemed to move. + +Thanking him for his hospitality, I slipped from the hot, roaring +room. + +Ah! what a waft of fresh air and sense of starlit space! The young +moon floated in the star-sprinkled heavens like a golden boat, with a +faint suggestion of the full-sailed orb. The true glamour and mystery +of the universe were again borne in upon me, as in our rich, +constellated prairie nights, and all the artificial abracadabra of the +_Klaus_ seemed akin to its heated, noisy atmosphere. The lights of the +village were extinguished, and, looking at my watch, I found it was +close upon midnight. But as I passed the saint's "palace" I was +astonished to find a light twinkling from the turret window. I +wondered who kept vigil. Then I bethought me it was Friday night when +no light could be struck, and this must be Ben David's bed-room lamp, +awaiting his return. + +"I thought he had taken you up in his fiery chariot," grumbled Yarchi +sleepily, as he unbarred the door. + +"The fiery chariot must not run on the Sabbath," I said smiling. "And, +moreover, Ben David takes no passengers to the circles." + +"Circles! He ought to have a circle of rope round his neck." + +"The soup was good," I pleaded, as I groped my way toward my quaint, +tall bed. + + +III + +I cannot explain why, when Yarchi asked me sarcastically, over the +Sabbath dinner, whether I was going to the "Supper of the Holy Queen," +I knew at once that I should be found at this mysterious meal. Perhaps +it was that I had nothing better to do; perhaps my sympathy was +returning to those strange, good-humoured, musical loungers, so far +removed from the New York ideal of life. Or perhaps I was vaguely +troubled by the dream I had wrestled with more or less obscurely all +night long--that I stood naked in a whirl of burning wheels that sang, +as they turned, the melody of the _Chassidim_. Was I this nondescript +soul, I wondered, half smilingly, fashioned of the Evil One to delay +the Messianic era? + +The sun was set, the three stars already in the sky, and my pious +landlord had performed the Ceremony of Division ere I set out, +declining the bread and fish Yarchi offered to make up in a package. + +"Saturday nights every man must bring his own meal," he said. + +I replied that I went not to eat, but to look on. However, I was so +late in arriving that, as there were no lights, looking on was +well-nigh reduced to listening. In the gray twilight the _Klaus_ +seemed full of uncanny forms rocking in monotonous sing-song. Through +the gathering gloom the old Wonder Rabbi's face loomed half +ghostlike, half regal. As the mystic dusk grew deeper and darkness +fell, the fascination of it all began to overcome me: the dim, +tossing, crooning figures, divined rather than seen, washed round +lappingly and swayingly by their own rhythmic melody, full of wistful +sweetness. My soul too tossed in this circumlapping tide. The complex +world of modern civilization fell away from me as garments fall from a +bather. Even this primitive mountain village passed into nothingness, +and in a timeless, spaceless universe I floated in a lulling, +measureless music. + +AEons might have elapsed ere the glare of light dazzled my eyes when +the week-day candles were lit, and the supper to escort the departing +Holy Queen--the Sabbath--began. Again I was invited to the upper +table, despite Yarchi's warning. But I had no appetite for earthly +things, was jarred by the prosaic gusto with which the mystics threw +themselves upon the tureen of red _Borsch_ and the black pottle of +brandy. + +"Der Rabbi hat geheissen Branntwein trinken," hummed the sexton +joyously. But little by little, as their stomachs grew satiate, the +holy singing started afresh, and presently they leaped up, pulled +aside the table, and made a whirling ring. I was caught up into the +human cyclone, and round and round we flew, our hands upon one +another's shoulders, with blind ecstatic faces, our legs kicking out +madly, to repel, I understood, the embryonic demons outside the magic +circle. And again methought I made a "soul-ascension," or at least +hovered as near to the ineffable mysteries as the demoniacles to our +magic circle. + +Oh, what inexpressible religious raptures were mine! What no gorgeous +temple, nor pealing organ, nor white-robed minister had ever wrought +for me was wrought in this barracklike room with its rude benches and +wooden ark. "Children of the Palace" we sang, and as I strove to pick +up the words I thought we were indeed sons of our Father who is in +Heaven. + +CHILDREN OF THE PALACE + + Children of the Palace, haste-- + All who yearn the bliss to taste + Of the glorious Little-Faced, + Where, within the King's house placed, + Shines the sapphire throne enchased. + Come, in joyful dance enlaced, + Mock the cold and primly chaste. + See no sullen nor straitlaced + In our circle may be traced. + Here with th' Ancient One embraced + Inmost truth 'tis ours to taste, + Outer husks are shred to waste. + Children of the Palace, haste, + With the glory to be graced, + Come, behold the Little-Faced. + +We broke up some hours earlier than the previous evening, but I hurried +away from my sauntering fellow-worshippers, not now because I was +disgusted, but because I feared to be. I needed solitude--communion +with my own soul. The same crescent moon hung in the heavens, the same +endless stars drew on the thoughts to a material infinity. + +But now I felt there was another and a truer universe encompassing +this painted vision--a spiritual universe of which I had hitherto +known nothing, though I had glibly prated of it and listened +well-satisfied to sermons about it. + +The air was warm and pleasant, and, still thrilling with the sense of +the Over-Soul, I had passed the outposts of the village almost +unconsciously, and walked in the direction of the cemetery on the +other slope of the mountain (for the dead feared neither floods nor +avalanches). On my left ran the river, still turbulent and encumbered +with wreckage and logs, but now at low tide some feet below the level +of its steep banks. The road gradually narrowed till at last I was +walking on a mere strip of path between the starlit water and the base +of the mountain, which rose ineffably solemn with its desolate rock at +my side and its dark pines higher up. And suddenly lifting my eyes, I +saw before me a mystic moonlit figure that set my heart beating with +terror and surprise. + +It was the figure of a woman, or rather of a girl, tall, queenly, +shining in a strange white robe, with a crown of roses and olive +branches. For a moment she seemed like some spirit of moonlight. But +though the eyes were misted with sadness and dream, the face was of +the most beautiful Jewish oval, glowing with dark creamy flesh. + +A wild idea rose to my mind, and, absurdly enough, stilled my beating +heart. This was the Holy Queen Sabbath whose departure we had just +been celebrating, and in this unfrequented haunt she abode till the +twilight of the next Friday. + +"Hail, Holy Queen!" I said, almost involuntarily. + +I saw her large beautiful eyes grow larger as she woke with a start to +my presence, but she only inclined her head with a sovereign air, as +one used to adoration, and floated on--for so her gracious motion +seemed to me. + +And as she passed by, it flashed upon me that the strange white robe +was nothing but a shroud. And again a great horror seized me. But +struggling with my failing senses, I told myself that at worst it was +some poor creature buried alive in the graveyard, who had forced the +coffin lid, and now wandered half insanely homewards. + +"May I not escort you, lady?" I cried after her. "The way is lonely." + +She turned her face again upon me. I saw it had fire as well as +mystery. + +"Who dare molest the Holy Queen?" she said. + +Again I was plunged into the wildest bewilderment. Was my first fancy +true? Or had I stumbled upon some esoteric title she bore? Or had she +but seized on my own phrase? + +"But you go far?" I persisted. + +"Unto my father's house." + +"Pardon me. I am a stranger." + +She turned round wholly now and looked at me. "Oh, are _you_ the +_Stranger_?" she said. The question rippled like music from her lips +and was as sweet to my ear, linking her to me by the suggestion that I +was not new to her imagination. + +"I am the Stranger," I answered, moving slowly toward her, "and +therefore afraid for your sake, and startled by the shroud you wear." + +"Since the dawn of my thirteenth year it has been my daily robe. It +should be in lamentation for Zion laid waste. But me, I fear, it +reminds more of my dead mother and sisters." + +"You had sisters?" + +"Two beautiful lives, blown out one after the other like candles, +making our home dark, when I was but a child. They too wore shrouds in +life and death, first the elder, then the younger; and when I draw +mine over my dress, it is of them I think always. I feel we are truly +sisters--sisters of the shroud." + +I shivered as from some chill graveyard air, despite her sweet +corporeality. + +"But the crown--the crown of joy?" I murmured, regarding now with +closer vision the intertangled weaving of roses and myrtle and olive +branches, with gold and crimson threads wound about salt stones and +the pale yellow of pyrites. + +"I do not know what it signifies," she said simply. + +"Are you not the Holy Queen?" I asked, beginning to scent some +Cabalistic or _Chassidic_ mystery. + +"Men worship me. But I know not of what I am queen." And a wistful +smile played about the sweet mouth. "Peace and sweet dreams to you, +sir." And she turned her face to the village. + +She knew not of what she was queen. There, all in one sentence, was +the charm, the wonder, the pathos, of her. Yet there was still much +that she knew that would enlighten me. And it was not wholly curiosity +that provoked me to hold the vision. I hated to see the enchantment of +her presence dissolve, to be robbed of the liquid notes of her voice. + +"You are queen of me at least," I said, following her, and throwing +all my republican principles into the river among the other wreckage. +"And your Majesty's liege cannot endure to see you walk unattended so +late in the night." + +"I have God's company," she answered quietly. + +"True; He is always with us. Nevertheless, at night and in the +mountains--" + +"He may be perceived more clearly. My father makes soul-ascensions at +any hour by force of prayer. But for me the divine ecstasy comes only +under God's heaven, and most clearly at night and among the graves. +By day God is invisible, like the stars." + +"They may be perceived from a well," I said, mechanically, for my +brain was busy with the intuition that she was Ben David's daughter, +that her "queendom" was somehow bound up with his alleged royal +descent. + +"Even so is God visible from the deeps of the spirit," she answered. +"But these depths are not mine, and day speaks to me less surely of +Him." + +"The day is divine too," I urged. "God speaks also through joy, +through sunshine." + +"It is but the gilding of sorrow." + +"Nay, that is too hard a saying. How can you know that? You"--I made a +bold guess, for my brain had continued to work feverishly--"who live +cloistered in a turret, who are kept sequestered from man, who walk at +night, and only among the dead. How can you know that life is so sad?" + +"I feel it. Is not every stone in the graveyard hewn from the dead +heart of the mourners?" + +All the sadness of the world was in her eyes, yet somehow all the +sweet solace. Again she bade me good-night, and I was so under the +spell of her strange reply that I made no further effort to follow +her, as she was swallowed up in the gloom of the firs where the path +wound back round the mountain. + + +IV + +The floods abated before the New Year dawned, as was testified by the +arrival, not of doves with olive leaves, but of pilgrims from the +north with shekels. The road was therefore open for me to go, yet I +lingered. I told myself it was the fascination of the pilgrims, that +curious new population which brought quite a bustle into the +"Ring-Place" of Zloczszol, and gave even the shops of the native +_Chassidim_ a live air. There were unpleasant camp-followers in the +train of the invading army, cripples and consumptives, both rich and +poor; but, on the whole, it was a cheery, well-to-do company. I +retained my room by paying the rent of three lodgers, and even then +Yarchi would come in and look at the big, tall bed wistfully, as if it +were a waste of sleeping material. + +The great episode of each day was now the royal levee. Crowds besieged +the door of the "palace," in quest of health, wealth, and happiness, +and the proprietor of fields had to squeeze in with the tramp, and the +peasant woman and her neglected brat jostled the jewelled dame from +the towns. I was glad to think that the "Holy Queen" was hidden safely +away in her turret, and this consoled me for not meeting her again, +though I walked or trotted about on my bay mare at all hours and in +all places in quest of her. + +It may seem curious that I did not boldly call and ask to see her, but +that would bring the commonplace into our so poetic relation. Besides +which, I divined that she would not be easily on view. Beyond +indirectly justifying my intuition that she was Ben David's daughter +by satisfying myself that the Wonder Rabbi had once had three girls, +two of whom had died, I would not even make inquiries. I feared to +dissipate the mystery and sacredness of our relation by gossip. +Perhaps Yarchi would tell me she was mad, or treat me to some other +coarse misconception due to the callous feelers with which he +apprehended the world. + +I did not even know for certain that the light I saw in the turret was +hers. But when at night it was out, I hastened to the river-side, to +see only my own shadow on the hushed mountain slope or on the white +tombs. It seemed clear that she was being kept sacred from the +pilgrims' gaze; perhaps, too, the deserted, untravelled road which was +safe as her own home in normal times, was less secure now. + +When I at last ventured to say casually to Yarchi that Ben David's +daughter seemed to be kept strictly to the house, the ribald grin I +had feared distorted his malicious mouth. + +"Oh, you have seen Bethulah!" he said. + +"Yes," I murmured, turning my flushed face away, but glad to learn her +name. Bethulah! Bethulah! my heart seemed to beat to the music of it. + +"Does she still stalk about in a shroud?" He did not wait for an +answer, but went off into unending laughter, which doubled him up till +his hunch protruded upward like a camel's. + +"She does not go about at all now," I said freezingly. But this set +Yarchi cachinnating worse than ever. + +"He daren't trust even his own disciples, you see! Ha! ha! ha!" + +"Yarchi!" I cried angrily, "you know Bethulah must be kept sacred from +this rabble," and I switched with my riding-whip at the poppies that +grew among the maize in the little front garden, as if they were +pilgrims and I a Tarquin. + +"Yes, I know that's Ben David's game. But I wish some man would marry +her and ruin his business. Ha! ha! ha!" + +"It would ruin yours too," I reminded him, more angrily. "You are +ready enough to let lodgings to the pilgrims." + +Yarchi shrugged his hump. "If fools are fools, wise men are wise men," +he replied oracularly. + +I strode away, but he had heated my brain with a new idea, or one that +I now allowed myself to see clearly. Some man might marry her. Then +why should I not be that man? Why should I not carry Bethulah back to +America with me--the most precious curiosity of the Old World--a +frank, virginal creature with that touch of the angel which I had +dreamed of but had never met among our smart girls--up to then. And +even if it were true that Ben David was a fraud, and needed the girl +for his Cabalistic mystifications, even so I was rich enough to recoup +him. The girl herself was no conscious accessory; of that I felt +certain. + +When my brain cooled, suggestions of the other aspects of the question +began to find entrance. What of Bethulah herself? Why should she care +to marry me? Or to go to the strange, raw country? And such a +union--was it not too incongruous, too fantastic, for practical life? +Thus I wrestled with myself for three days, all the while watching +Bethulah's turret or the roads she might come by. On the third night I +saw a wild mob of men at the turret end of the house, dancing in a +ring and singing, with their eyes turned upward to the light that +burnt on high. Their words I could not catch at first through the +tumultuous howl, but it went on and on, like their circumvolutions, +over and over again, till my brain reeled. It seemed to be an appeal +to Bethulah to plead their cause on the coming _Yom-Hadin_ (New-Year +day of Judgment):-- + + "By thy soul without sin, + Enter heaven within, + This divine _Yom-Hadin_, + Holy Maid. + + "Undertake thou our plea; + Let the Poison God be + Answered stoutly by thee, + Holy Queen." + +When I came to write this down afterward, I discovered it was an +acrostic on her name, as is customary with festival prayers. And this +I have preserved in my rough translation. + + +V + +Despite my new spiritual insight, I could not bring myself to +sympathize with such crude earthly visionings of the heavenly judgment +bar (doubtless borrowed from the book of Job, which our enlightened +Western rabbis rightly teach to be allegorical). Temporary absorption +into the Over-Soul seemed to me to sum up the limits of _Chassidic_ +experience. Besides, Bethulah was not a being to be employed as a sort +of supernatural advocate, but a sad, tender creature needing love and +protection. + +This mob howling outside my lady's chamber added indignation to my +strange passion for this beautiful "sister of the shroud." I would +rescue her from this grotesque environment. I would go to her father +and formally demand her hand, as, I had learnt, was the custom among +these people. I slept upon the resolution, yet in the morning it was +still uncrumpled; and immediately after breakfast I took my stand +among the jostling crowd outside the turreted house, and unfairly +secured precedence by a gold piece slipped into the palm of the +doorkeeper. The scribe I found stationed in the ante-chamber made me +write my wish on a piece of paper, which, however, I was instructed to +carry in myself. + +Ben David was seated in a curious soft-cushioned, high-backed chair, +with the intersecting triangles making a carved apex to it, but +otherwise there was no mark of what Yarchi would have called +charlatanism. His face, set between a black velvet biretta and the +white masses of his beard, had the dignity with which it had first +impressed me, and his long, fur-trimmed robe gave him an air of +mediaeval wisdom. + +"Peace be to you, long-lingering stranger," he said, though his green +eyes glittered ominously. + +"Peace," I murmured uneasily. + +With his left hand he put the still folded paper to his brow. I +watched the light playing on the Persian emerald seal of the ring on +the forefinger of his right hand. Suddenly I perceived he too was +looking at the stone--nay, into it--and that while that continued to +glitter, his own eyes had grown glazed. + +"Strange, strange," he muttered. "Again I see the fiery wheels, and +the strange soul fashioned of Satan that dwells neither in heaven nor +in hell." And his eyes lit up terribly again and rolled like fiery +wheels. + +"What do you want?" he cried harshly. + +"It is written on the paper," I faltered, "just two words." + +He opened the paper and read out, "Your daughter!" His eyes rolled +again. "What know you of my daughter?" + +"Oh, I know all about her," I said airily. + +"Then you know that my daughter does not receive pilgrims." + +"Nay, 'tis I that wish to receive your daughter," I ventured jocosely, +with a touch of levity I did not feel. He raised his clinched hand as +if to strike me, and I had a lurid sense of three green eyes glaring +at me. I stood my ground as coolly as possible, and said, in dry, +formal tones, "I wish to make application for her hand." + +A great blackness came over the frosted visage, as if his black +biretta had been suddenly drawn forward, and his erst blanched +eyebrows gloomed like a black lightning-cloud over the baleful eyes. + +I shrank back, then I had a sudden vision of the wagons clattering +down Broadway in a live, sunlit, go-ahead world, and the Wonder Rabbi +turned into an absurd old parent with a beautiful daughter and a bad +temper. + +"I am a man of substance," I went on dryly. "In my country I have fat +lands." + +The horribleness of thus bidding for Bethulah flashed on me even as I +spoke. To mix up a creature of mist and moonlight with substance and +fat lands! Monstrous! And yet I knew that thus, and thus only, by +honourable talk with her guardian, could a Zloczszol bride be won. + +But the Wonder Rabbi sprang to his feet so vehemently that his +high-backed chair rocked as in a gale. + +"Dog!" he shrieked. "Blasphemer!" + +I summoned all my American sang-froid. + +"Dog," I agreed, "inasmuch as I follow your daughter like a dog, +humbly, lovingly. But blasphemer? Say rather worshipper. For I worship +Bethulah." + +"Then worship her like the others," he roared. Had I not heard him +pray, I should have expected the hoary patriarch to collapse after +such an outburst. + +"Thank you," I said. "I don't want her to fly up to heaven for me. I +want her to come down to earth--from her turret." + +"She will not come down to any earthly spouse," he said more gently. +"Quite the reverse." + +"Then I will make a soul-ascension," I said defiantly. + +"Get back to hell, spawn of Satan!" he thundered again. "Or since, +strange son of the New World, you neither believe nor disbelieve, +hover eternally between hell and heaven!" + +"Meantime I am here," I said good-humouredly, "between you and your +daughter. Come, come, be sensible; you are a very old man. Where in +Zloczszol will you find a superior husband for your child?" + +"The Lord, to whom she is consecrated, forgive you your blasphemy," he +said, in a changed voice, and rang his bell, so that the next +applicant came in and I had to go. + +It was plain the girl was kept as a sacred celibate, a sort of vestal +virgin--Bethulah was the very Hebrew for virgin, it suddenly flashed +upon me. But how came such practices into Judaism--Judaism, with its +cheery creed, "increase and multiply?" And _Chassidism_, I had +hitherto imagined, was the cheeriness of Judaism concentrated! In +Yarchi's version it was even license--"the Adamite life." I raked up +my memories of the Bible--remembered Jephtha's daughter. But no! there +could be no question of a vow; this was some new _Chassidic_ mystery. +The crown and the shroud! The shroud of renunciation, the crown of +victory! + +And for some fantastic shadow-myth a beautiful young life was to be +immolated. My respect for _Chassidism_ vanished as suddenly as it +came. + +But I was powerless. I could only wait till the flood of pilgrims +oozed back, even as the waters had done. Then perhaps Bethulah might +walk again upon the moonlit mountain-peak, or in the "house of life," +as the cemetery was mystically called. + +The penitential season, with its trumpets and terrors, +judgment-writings and sealings, was over at last, and Tabernacles came +like a breath of air and nature. Yarchi hammered up a little wooden +booth in the corner of his front garden, and hung grapes and oranges +and flowers from its loose roof of boughs, through which the stars +peeped at us as we ate. It struck me as a very pretty custom, and I +wondered why American Judaism had let it fall into desuetude. Ere the +break-up of these booths the pilgrims had begun to melt away, the old +sleepiness to fall upon Zloczszol. + +Hence I was startled one morning by the passage of a joyous procession +that carried torches and played on flutes and tambourines. I ran out +and discovered that I was part of a wedding procession escorting a +bride. As this was a company not of _Chassidim_, but of everyday Jews, +bound for the little Gothic synagogue, I was surprised, despite my +experience of the Tabernacles, to find such picturesque goings-on, and +I went all the way to the courtyard, where the rabbi came out to meet +us with the bridegroom, who, it seemed, had already been conducted +hither with parallel pomp. The happy youth--for he could only have +been sixteen--was arrayed in festival finery, with white shoes on his +feet and black phylacteries on his forehead, which was further +over-gloomed by a cowl. He took the bride's hand, and then we all +threw wheat over their heads, crying three times, "_Peru, Urvu_" (Be +fruitful and multiply). But just when I expected the ceremony to +begin, the bride was snatched away, and we all filed into the +synagogue to await her return. + +I had fallen into a mournful reverie--perhaps the suggestion of my own +infelicitous romance was too strong--when I felt a stir of excitement +animating my neighbours, and, looking up, lo! I saw a tall female +figure in a white shroud, with a veiled face, and on her head a crown +of roses and myrtles and olive branches. A shiver ran through me. +"Bethulah!" I cried half-aloud. My neighbours smiled, and as I +continued to stare at the figure, I saw it was only the bride, thus +transmogrified for the wedding canopy. And then some startling half +comprehension came to me. Bethulah's dress was a bride's dress, then. +She was made to appear a perpetual bride. Of whom? To what Cabalistic +mystery was this the key? The Friday night hymn sprang to my mind. + + "Oh, come, my beloved, to meet the Bride, + The face of the Sabbath let us welcome." + +For a moment I thought I held the solution, and that my very first +conjecture had been warranted. The Holy Queen Sabbath was also +typified as the Sabbath Bride, and this dual allegory it was that +Bethulah incarnated. Or perchance it was Israel, the Bride of God! + +But I was still dissatisfied. I felt that the truth lay deeper than a +mere poetic metaphor or a poetical masquerading. I discovered it at +last, but at the risk of my life. + + +VI + +I continued to walk nightly on the narrow path between the mountain +and the river, like the ghost of one drowned, but without a glimpse of +Bethulah. At last it grew plain that her father had warned her against +me, that she had changed the hour of her exercise and soul-ascension, +or even the place. I was indebted to accident for my second vision of +this strange creature. + +I had diverted myself by visiting the neighbouring village, a +refreshing contrast to Jewish Zloczszol, from the rough garland-hung +wayside crosses (which were like sign-posts to its gilt-towered +church) to the peasant women in pink aprons and top boots. + +A marvellous sunset was well-nigh over as I struck the river-side that +curved homewards. The bank was here very steep, the river running as +between cliffs. In the sky great drifts of gold-flushed cloud hung +like relics of the glory that had been, and the autumn leaves that +muffled my mare's footsteps seemed to have fallen from the sunset. In +the background the white peak of the mountain was slowly parting with +its volcanic splendour. And low on the horizon, like a small lake of +fire in the heart of a tangled bush, the molten sun showed monstrous +and dazzling. + +And straight from the sunset over the red leaves Bethulah came +walking, rapt as in prophetic thought, shrouded and crowned, preceded +by a long shadow that seemed almost as intangible. + +I reined in my horse and watched the apparition with a great flutter +at my heart. And as I gazed, and thought of her grotesque worshippers, +it was borne in upon me how unbefittingly Nature had peopled her +splendid planet. The pageantry of dawn and sunset, of seas and +mountains, how incongruous a framework for our petty breed, sordidly +crawling under the stars. Bethulah alone seemed fitted to the high +setting of the scene. She matched this lone icy peak, this fiery +purity. + +"Bethulah!" I said, as she was almost upon my horse. + +She looked up, and a little cry that might have been joy or surprise +came from her lips. But by the smile that danced in her eyes and the +blood that leapt to her cheeks, I saw with both joy and surprise that +this second meeting was as delightful to her as to me. + +But the conscious Bethulah hastened to efface what the unconscious had +revealed. "It is not right of you, stranger, to linger here so long," +she said, frowning. + +"I am your shadow," I replied, "and must linger where you linger." + +"But you are indeed a shadow, my father says--a being fashioned of the +Poison God to work us woe." + +"No, no," I said, laughing; "my horse bears no shadow. And the Poison +God who fashioned me is not the absurd horned and tailed tempter you +have been taught to believe in, but a little rosy-winged god, with a +bow and poisoned arrows." + +"A little rosy-winged god?" she said. "I know of none such." + +"And you know not of what you are queen," I retorted, smiling. + +"There is but one God," she insisted, with sweet seriousness. "See, He +burns in the bush, yet it is not consumed." + +She pointed to where the red sinking sun seemed to eat out the heart +of the bush through which we saw it. + +"Thus this love-god burns in our hearts," I said, lifted up into her +poetic strain, "and we are not consumed, only glorified." + +I strove to touch her hand, which had dropped caressingly on my +horse's neck. But she drew back with a cry. + +"I may not listen. This is the sinful talk my father warned me of. +Fare you well, stranger." And with swift step she turned homewards. + +I sat still a minute or two, half-disconcerted, half-content to gaze +at her gracious motions; then I touched the mare with my heel, and she +bounded off in pursuit. But at this instant three men in long +gabardines and great round velvet hats started forward from the +thicket, shouting and waving lighted pine-branches, and my frightened +animal reared and plunged, and then broke into a mad gallop, making +straight for the river curve between the cliffs. I threw myself back +in the saddle, tugging desperately at the creature's mouth; but I +might have been a child pulling at an elephant. I shook my feet free +of the stirrups and prepared to tumble off as best I could, rather +than risk the plunge into the river, when a projecting bough made me +duck my head instinctively; but as I passed under it, with another +instinctive movement I threw out my hands to clasp it, and, despite a +violent wrench that seemed to pull my arms out of their sockets and +swung my feet high forward, I hung safely. The mare, eased of my +weight, was at the river-side the next instant, and with a wild, +incredible leap alighted with her forefeet and the bulk of her body on +the other bank, up which she scraped convulsively, and then stood +still, trembling and sweating. I could not get at her, so, trusting +she would find her way home safely, I dropped to the ground and ran +back, with a mixed idea of finding Bethulah and chastising the three +scoundrels. But all were become invisible. + +I walked half a mile across the plain to get to the rough pine bridge; +and, once on the other bank, I had no difficulty in recovering the +mare. She cantered up to me, indeed, and put her soft and still +perspiring nose in my palm and whinnied her apologetic congratulations +on our common escape. + +I rode slowly home, reflecting on the new turn in my love affairs, for +it was plain that Bethulah had now been provided with a body-guard, of +which she was as unconscious as of her body itself. + +But for the apparent necessity of her making soul-ascensions under +God's heaven, I supposed she would not have been allowed to take the +air at all with such a creature of Satan hovering. + +I stood sunning myself the next day on the same pine bridge, looking +down on the swift current, and regretting there was no rail to lean on +as one watched the fascinating flow of the beautiful river. It struck +me as inordinately blue,--perhaps, I analyzed, by contrast with the +long, sinuous weeds which here glided and tossed in the current like +green water-snakes. These flexible greens reminded me of the Wonder +Rabbi's eyes and his emerald seal; and I turned, with some sudden +premonition of danger, just in time to dodge the attack of the same +three ruffians, who must have been about to push me over. + +In an instant I had whipped out my pistol from my hip pocket, and +cried, "Stand, or I fire!" + +The trio froze instantly in odd attitudes, which was lucky, as my +pistol was unloaded. They looked almost comical in their air of abject +terror. Their narrow, fanatical foreheads, with ringlets of piety +hanging down below the velvet, fur-trimmed hats, showed them more +accustomed to murdering texts than men. Had I not been still +smouldering over yesterday's trick, I could have pitied them for the +unwelcome job thrust upon their unskilled and apparently even +unweaponed hands by the machinations of the Poison God and the orders +of Ben David. One of them seemed quite elderly, and one quite young. +The middle-aged one had a goitre, and perhaps that made me fancy him +the most sinister, and keep my eye most warily upon him. + +"Sons of Belial," I said, recalling a biblical phrase that might be +expected to prick, "why do you seek my life?" + +Two of them cowered under my gaze, but the elderly _Chassid_, seeing +the shooting was postponed, spoke up boldly: "We are no sons of +Belial. You are the begotten of Satan; you are the arch enemy of +Israel." + +"I?" I protested in my turn. "I am a plain God-fearing son of +Abraham." + +"A precious scion of the Patriarch's seed, who would delay the coming +of the Messiah!" + +Again that incomprehensible accusation. + +"You speak riddles," I said. + +"How so? Did you not tell Ben David--his horn be exalted--that you +knew all concerning Bethulah? Then must you know that of her +immaculacy will the Messiah be born, one ninth of Ab." + +A flood of light burst upon me--mystic, yet clarifying; blinding, yet +dissipating my darkness. My pistol drooped in my hand. My head swam +with a whirl of strange thoughts, and Bethulah, already divine to me, +took on a dazzling aureola, sailed away into some strange supernatural +ether. + +"Have we not been in exile long enough?" said the youngest. "Shall a +godless stranger tamper with the hope of generations?" + +"But whence this mad hope?" I said, struggling under the mystic +obsession of his intensity. + +"Mad?" began the first, his eyes spitting fire; but the younger +interrupted him. + +"Is not our saint the sole scion of the house of David? Is not his +daughter the last of the race?" + +"And what if she is?" + +"Then who but she can be the destined mother of Israel's Redeemer?" + +The goitred _Chassid_ opened his lips and added, "If not now, when? as +Hillel asked." + +"In our days at last must come the crowning glory of the house of Ben +David," the young man went on. "For generations now, since the signs +have pointed to the millennium, have the daughters of the house been +kept unwedded." + +"What!" I cried. "Generations of _Bethulahs_ have been sacrificed to a +dream!" + +Again the eyes of the first _Chassid_ dilated dangerously. I raised my +pistol, but hastened to ask, in a more conciliatory tone, "Then how +has the line been carried on?" + +"Through the sons, of course," said the young _Chassid_. "Now for the +first time there are no sons, and only one daughter remains, the +manifest vessel of salvation." + +I tried to call up that image of bustling Broadway that had braced me +in colloquy with the old Wonder Rabbi, but it seemed shadowy now, +compared with this world of solid spiritualities which begirt me. +Could it be the same planet on which such things went on +simultaneously? Or perhaps I was dreaming, and these three grotesque +creatures were the product of Yarchi's cookery. + +But their hanging curls had a daylight definiteness, and down in the +sunlit, translucent river I could see every shade of colour, from the +green of the sinuous reed-snakes to the brown of the moss patches. + +On the bank walked two crows, and I noted for the first time with what +comic pomposity they paced, their bodies bent forward like two +important old gentlemen with their hands in the pockets of their black +coat tails. They brought a smile to my face, but a menacing movement +of the _Chassidim_ warned me to be careful. + +"And does the girl know all this?" I asked hurriedly. + +"She did not yesterday," said the elderly fellow. "Now she has been +told." + +There was another long pause. I meditated rapidly but disjointedly, +having to keep an eye against a sudden rush of my assailants, and +mistrusting the goitred saint yet the more because he was so silent. + +"And is Bethulah content with her destiny?" I asked. + +"She is in the seventh heaven," said the elderly saint. + +I had a poignant shudder of incredulous protest. I recalled the flush +of her sweet face at the sight of me, and brief as our meetings had +been, I dared to feel that the irrevocable thrill had passed between +us; that the rest would have been only a question of time. + +"Let Bethulah tell me so herself," I cried, "and I will leave her in +her heaven." + +The men looked at one another. Then the eldest shook his head. "No; +you shall never speak to her again." + +"We have maidens more beautiful among us," said the young man. "You +shall have your choice. Ay, even my own betrothed would I give you." + +I flicked aside his suggestion. "But you cannot prevent Bethulah +walking under God's heaven." They looked dismayed. "I will meet her," +I said, pursuing my advantage. "And Yarchi and other good Jews shall +be at hand." + +"She shall be removed elsewhere," said the first. + +"I will track her down. Ah, you are afraid," I said mockingly. "You +see it is not true that she is content to be immolated." + +"It is true," they muttered. + +"True as the Torah," added the elderly man. + +"Then there is no harm in her telling me so." + +"You may bear her off on your horse," said he of the goitre. + +"I will go on foot. Let her bid me go away, and I will leave +Zloczszol." + +Again they looked at one another, and the relief in their eyes brought +heart-sinking into mine. Yes, it was true. Bethulah was in the glow of +a great surrender; she was still tingling with the revelation of her +supreme destiny. To put her to the test now would be fatal. No; let +her have time to meditate; ay, even to disbelieve. + +"To-morrow you shall speak with her, and no man shall know," said the +oldest _Chassid_. + +"No, not to-morrow. In a week or two." + +"Ah, you wish to linger among us," he replied suspiciously. + +"I will go away till the appointed day," I replied readily. + +"Good. Continue your travels. Let us say a month, or even two." + +"If you will not spirit her away in my absence." + +"It is as easy to do so in your presence." + +"So be it." + +"Shall we say--the eve of Chanukah?" he suggested. + +It was my turn to regard him suspiciously. But I could see nothing to +cavil at. He had merely mentioned an obvious date--that of the next +festival landmark. Chanukah--the feast of rededication of the Temple +after the Grecian pollution--the miracle of the unwaning oil, the +memorial lighting of lights; there seemed nothing in these to work +unduly upon the girl's soul, except in so far as the inspiring +tradition of Judas Maccabaeus might attach her more devotedly to her +conceptions of duty and self-dedication. Perhaps, I thought, with a +flash of jealous anger, they meditated a feast of rededication of her +after the pollution of my presence had been removed. Well, we should +see. + +"The eve of Chanukah," I agreed, with a nonchalant air. "Only let the +place be where I first met her--the path 'twixt mountain and river as +you go to the cemetery." + +That would at least be a counter-influence to Chanukah! As they +understood none of the subtleties of love, they agreed to this, and I +made them swear by the Name. + +When they went their way I stood pondering on the bridge, my empty +pistol drooping in my hand, till sky and river glowed mystically as +with blood, and the chill evening airs reminded me that November was +nigh. + + +VII + +I got to Warsaw and back in the time at my disposal, but not all the +freshness and variety of my experiences could banish the thought of +Bethulah. There were days when I could absorb myself in the passing +panorama, but I felt always, so to speak, in the ante-chamber of the +great moment of our third and decisive meeting. + +And with every shortening day of December that moment approached. Yet +I all but missed it when it came. A snowfall I might easily have +foreseen retarded my journey at the eleventh hour, but my faithful +mare ploughed her way through the white morasses. As she munched her +mid-day corn in that quaint Christian village that neighboured +Zloczszol, and in which I had agreed to stable her, it was borne in on +me for the first time that the eve of Chanukah was likewise Christmas +eve. I wondered vaguely if there was any occult significance in the +coincidence or in the _Chassidic_ choice of dates; but it was too late +now to protest, and loading my pistol against foul play, I hurried to +the rendezvous. + +On the dark barren base of the mountain, patches of snow gleamed like +winter blossoms; the gargoyle-like faces of the jags of rock on the +river-bank were white-bearded with icicles. Down below the stream +raced, apparently as turbid as ever, but suddenly, as it made a sharp +curve and came under a thick screen of snow-laden boughs interarching +over the cleft, it grew glazed in death. + +The sight of Bethulah was as of a spirit of sunshine moving across the +white desolation. Her tall lone shadow fell blue upon the snowy path. +She was swathed now in splendid silver furs, from which her face shone +out like a tropical flower beneath its wreathed crown. + +Dignity and sovereignty had subtly replaced the grace of her movement, +her very stature seemed aggrandized by the consciousness of her unique +mission. + +She turned, and her virginal eyes met mine with abashing purity, and +in that instant of anguished rapture I knew that my quest was vain. +The delicate flush of joy and surprise touched her cheeks, indeed, as +before, but this time I felt it would not be succeeded by terror. +Self-conscious now, self-poised, she stood regally where she had +faltered and fled. + +"You return to spend Chanukah with us," she said. + +"I came," I said, with uneasy bravado, "in the hope of spending it +elsewhere--with you." + +"But you know that cannot be," she said gently. + +Ah, now she knew of what she was queen. But revolt was hot in my +heart. + +"Then they have made you share their dream," I said bitterly. + +"Yes," she replied, with unruffled sweetness. "How beautiful upon the +mountains are the feet of those that bring good tidings!" And her +eyes shone in exultation. + +"They were messengers of evil," I said--"whisperers of untruth. Life +is for love and joy." + +"Ah, no!" she urged tremulously. "Surely you know the world--how full +it is of suffering and sin." And as with an unconscious movement, she +threw back her splendid furs, revealing the weird shroud. "Ah, what +ecstasy to think that the divine day will come, ere I am old, when, as +it is written in the twenty-fifth chapter of Isaiah, '_He will destroy +in this mountain the face of the covering cast over all people, and +the vail that is spread over all nations. He will swallow up death in +victory: and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces; and +the rebuke of His people shall He take away from off all the earth: +for the Lord hath spoken._'" + +Her own eyes were full of tears, which I yearned to kiss away. + +"But your own life meantime?" I said softly. + +"My life--does it not already take on the glory of God as this +mountain the coming day?" + +She seemed indeed akin to the cold white peak as I had seen it flushed +with sunrise. My passion seemed suddenly prosaic and selfish. I was +lifted up into the higher love that worships and abnegates. + +"God bless you!" I said, and turning away with misty vision, saw, +creeping off, the three dark fanatical figures. + + +VIII + +Half a century later I was startled to find the name of Zloczszol in a +headline of the Sunday edition of my American paper. + +I had married, and was even a grandfather; for after my return to +America the world of Bethulah had grown fantastic, stupidly +superstitious, and, finally, shadowy and almost unreal. Years and +years of happiness had dissipated and obliterated the delicate +fragrant dream of spiritual love. + +But that strange long-forgotten name stirred instantly the sleeping +past to life. I adjusted my spectacles and read the column eagerly. It +was sensational enough, though not more so than a hundred columns of +calamities in unknown places that one skips or reads with the mildest +of thrills. + +The long-threatened avalanche had fallen, and Nature had once more +rudely reminded man of his puny place in creation. Rare conditions had +at last come together. First a slight fall of snow, covering the +mountain--how vividly I pictured it!--then a sharp frost which had +frozen this deposit; after that a measureless, blinding snow-storm and +a cyclonic wind. When all seemed calm again, the second mass of snow +had begun to slide down the frozen surface of the first, quickening to +a terrific pace, tearing down the leafless trunks and shooting them at +the village like giant arrows of the angry gods. One of these arrows +penetrated the trunk of a great cedar on the plain and stuck out on +both sides, making a sort of cross, which the curious came from far +and near to see. But, alas! the avalanche had not contented itself +with such freakish manifestations; it had annihilated the new portion +of the village which had dared crawl nearer the mountain when the +railroad--a railroad in Zloczszol!--had found it cheaper to pass near +the base than to make a circuit round the congested portion! + +Alas! the cheapness was illusory. The depot with its crowd had been +wiped out as by the offended Fury of the mountain; though by another +freakish incident, illustrating the Titanic forces at work, yet the +one redeeming detail of the appalling catastrophe, a small train of +three carriages that had just moved off was lifted up bodily by the +terrible wind that raced ahead of the monstrous sliding snowball, and +was clapped down in a field out of its reach, as if by a protecting +hand. Not a creature on it was injured. + +I had passed the years allotted to man by the Psalmist, and my memory +of the things of yesterday had begun to be faint and elusive, but the +images of my Zloczszol adventure returned with a vividness that grew +daily more possessive. What had become of Bethulah? Was she alive? Was +she dead? And which were the sadder alternative--to have felt the +darkness of early death closing round the great hope, or to have +survived its possibility, and old, bent, bitter, and deserted by her +followers, to await the lesser disenchantment of the grave? + +An irresistible instinct impelled me--aged as I was myself--to revisit +alone these scenes of my youth, to see how fate had rounded or broken +off its grim ironic story. + +I pass over the stages of the journey, at the conclusion of which I +found myself again in the mountain village. Alas! The changes on the +route had prepared me for the change in Zloczszol. Railroads threw +their bridges over the gorges I had climbed, telegraph poles tamed the +erst savage forest ways. And Zloczszol itself had now, by the line +passing through it, expanded into a trading centre, with vitality +enough to recuperate quickly from the avalanche. The hotel was clean +and commodious, but I could better have endured that ancient +sitting-room in which the squalling baby was rocked. Strange, I could +see its red wrinkled face, catch the very timbre of its piping cries! +Only the mountain was unchanged, and the pines and firs that had +whispered dreams to my youth whispered sleep to my age. Ah, how frail +and futile is the life of man! He passes like a shadow, and the green +sunlit earth he trod on closes over him and takes the tread of the new +generations. What had I to say to these new, smart people in +Zloczszol? No, the dead were my gossips and neighbours. For me more +than the avalanche had desolated Zloczszol. I repaired to the +cemetery. There I should find Yarchi. It was no use looking for him +under the porch of the pine cottage. And there, too, I should in all +likelihood find Bethulah! + +But Ben David's tomb was the first I found, carved with the +intersecting triangles. The date showed he had died very soon after my +departure; perhaps, I thought remorsefully, my importunities had +agitated him too much. Ah! there at last was Yarchi. Under a high +white stone he slept as soundly as any straight corpse. His sneering +mouth had crumbled to dust, but I would have given much to hear it +once more abuse the _Chassidim_. Propped on my stick and poring over +the faded gilt letters, I recalled "the handsome stranger" whom the +years had marred. But of Bethulah I saw no sign. I wandered back and +found the turreted house, but it had been converted into a large +store, and from Bethulah's turret window hung a great advertising +sky-sign. + +I returned cheerlessly to the hotel, but as the sun began to pierce +auspiciously through the bleakness of early March, I was about to +sally forth again in the direction of Yarchi's ancient cottage, when +the porter directed me--as if I were a mere tourist--to go to see the +giant cedar of Lebanon with its Titanic arrow. However, I followed his +instructions, and pretty soon I espied the broad-girthed tree towering +over its field, with the foreign transpiercing trunk about fifteen +feet from the ground, making indeed a vast cross. Leaning against the +sunlit cedar was a white-robed figure, and as I hobbled nearer I saw +by the shroud and the crown of flowers that I had found Bethulah. + +At my approach she drew herself up in statuesque dignity, upright as +Ben David of yore, and looked at me with keen unclouded eyes. There +was a wondrous beauty of old age in her face and bearing. The silver +hair banded on the temples glistened picturesquely against the reds +and greens and golds of her crown. + +"Ah, stranger!" she said, with a gracious smile. "You return to us." + +"You recognize me?" I mumbled, in amaze. + +"It is the face I loved in youth," she said simply. + +Strange, happy, wistful tears sprang to my old eyes--some blurred +sense of youth and love and God. + +"Your youth seems with you still," I said. "Your face is as sweet, +your voice as full of music." + +The old ecstatic look lit up her eyes. "It is God who keeps me ever +young, till the great day dawns." + +I was taken aback. What! She believed still! That alternative had not +figured in my prevision of pathetic closes. I was silent, but the old +tumult of thought raged within me. + +"But is not the day passed forever?" I murmured at last. + +The light in her eyes became queenly fire. + +"While there is life," she cried, "in the veins of the house of Ben +David!" And as she spoke my eye caught the gleam of the Persian +emerald on her forefinger. + +"And your worshippers--what of them?" I asked. + +Her eyes grew sad. "After my father's death--his memory for a +blessing!--the pilgrims fell off, and when the years passed without +the miracle, his followers even here in Zloczszol began to weaken. And +slowly a new generation arose, impatient and lax, which believed not +in the faith of their forefathers and mocked my footsteps, saying, +'Behold! the dreamer cometh!' And then the black fire-monster came, +whizzing daily to and fro on the steel lines and breathing out fumes +of unfaith, and the young men said lo! there is our true Redeemer. +Wherefore, as the years waxed and waned, until at last advancing Death +threw his silver shadow on my hair, even the faithful grew to doubt, +and they said, 'But a few short years more and death must claim her, +her mission unfulfilled, and the lamp of Israel's hope shattered +forever. Perchance it is we that have misunderstood the prophecies. +Not here, not here, shall God's great miracle be wrought; this is not +holy ground. "For the Lord dwelleth in Zion,"' they cried with the +Prophets. Only on the sacred soil, outside of which God has never +revealed himself, only in Palestine, they said, can Israel's Redeemer +be born. As it is written, 'But upon Mount Zion shall be deliverance, +and there shall be holiness.' + +"Then these and the scoffers persuaded me, seeing that I waxed very +old, and I sold my father's house--now grown of high value--to obtain +the money for the journey, and I made ready to start for Jerusalem. +There had been a whirlwind and a great snow the day before and I would +have tarried, but they said I must arrive in the Holy City ere the eve +of Chanukah. And putting off my shroud and my crown, seeing that only +in Jerusalem I might be a bride, I trusted myself to the fire-monster, +and a vast company went with me to the starting-place--both of those +who believed that salvation was of Zion and those who scoffed. But the +monster had scarcely crawled out under God's free heaven than God's +hand lifted me up and those with me--for my blessedness covered +them--and put us down very far off, while a great white thunder-bolt +fell upon the building and upon the scoffers and upon those who had +prated of Zion, and behold! they were not. The multitude of Moab was +as straw trodden down for the dunghill, and the high fort of the +fire-monster was brought down and laid low and brought to the ground, +even to the dust. Then arose a great cry from all the town and the +mountain, and a rending of garments and a weeping in sackcloth. And +many returned to the faith in me, for God's hand has shown that here, +and not elsewhere, is the miracle to be wrought. As it is written, +word for word, in the twenty-fifth chapter of Isaiah:-- + +"'_And He will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering cast +over all people, and the vail that is spread over all nations. He will +swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God shall wipe away tears +from off all faces: and the rebuke of His people shall He take away +from off all the earth: for the Lord hath spoken it. And it shall be +said in that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for Him, and He +will save us: this is the Lord; we have waited for Him, we will be +glad and rejoice in His salvation. For in this mountain shall the hand +of the Lord rest, and Moab shall be trodden down under Him, even as +straw is trodden down for the dunghill. And He shall spread forth His +hands in the midst of them, as he that swimmeth spreadeth forth to +swim: and He shall bring down their pride together with the spoils of +their hands. And the fortress of the high fort of thy walls shall He +bring down, lay low, and bring to the ground, even to the dust._' + +"And here in this cedar of Lebanon, transplanted like Israel under the +shadow of this alien mountain, the Lord has shot a bolt, for a sign to +all that can read. And here I come daily to pray, and to await the +divine moment." + +She ceased, and her eyes turned to the now stainless heaven. And as I +gazed upon her shining face it seemed to me that the fresh flowers and +leaves of her crown, still wet with the dew, seen against that garment +of death and the silver of decaying life, were symbolic of an undying, +ever rejuvenescent hope. + + +IX + +A last surprise awaited me. Bethulah now lived all alone in Yarchi's +pine cottage, which the years had left untouched. + +Whether accident or purpose settled her there I do not know, but my +heart was overcharged with mingled emotion as I went up the garden the +next day to pay her a farewell visit. The poppies flaunted riotously +amid the neglected maize, but the cottage itself seemed tidy. + +It was the season when the cold wrinkled lips of winter meet the first +kiss of spring, and death is passing into resurrection. It was the +hour when the chill shadows steal upon the sunlit day. In the sky was +the shot purple of a rolling moor, merging into a glow of lovely +green. + +I stood under the porch where Yarchi had been wont to sun and snuff +himself, and knocked at the door, but receiving no answer, I lifted +the latch softly and looked in. + +Bethulah was at her little table, her head lying on a great old Bible +which her arms embraced. One long finger of departing sunlight pointed +through the window and touched the flowers on the gray hair. I stole +in with a cold fear that she was dead. But she seemed only asleep, +with that sleep of old age which is so near to death and is yet the +renewal of life. + +I was curious to see what she had been reading. It was the eighteenth +chapter of Genesis, and in the shadow of her crown ran the verses:-- + +"_And the Lord said unto Abraham, Wherefore did Sarah laugh, saying, +Shalt I of a surety bear a child, which am old?_ + +"_Is anything too hard for the Lord?_" + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VII + +THE KEEPER OF CONSCIENCE + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VII + +THE KEEPER OF CONSCIENCE + + +I + +Salvina Brill walked to and fro in the dingy Hackney Terrace, waiting +till her mother should return with the house-key. So far as change of +scene was concerned the little pupil-teacher might as well have stood +still. Everywhere bow-windows, Venetian blinds, little front +gardens--all that had represented domestic grandeur to her after a +childhood of apartments in Spitalfields, though her subsequent glimpse +of the West End home in which her sister Kitty was governess, had made +her dazedly aware of Alps beyond Alps. + +Though only seventeen, Salvina was not superficially sweet and could +win no consideration from the seated males in the homeward train, and +the heat of the weather and the crush of humanity--high hats +sandwiched between workmen's tool-baskets--had made her head ache. Her +day at the Whitechapel school had already been trying, and Thursday +was always heavy with the accumulated fatigues of the week. It was +unfortunate that her mother should be late, but she remembered how at +breakfast the good creature had promised father to make a little +excursion to the Borough and take a packet of tea to the house of some +distant relatives of his, who were sitting _shivah_ (seven days' +mourning). The non-possession of a servant made it necessary to lock +up the house and pull down the blinds, when its sole occupant went +visiting. + +After a few minutes of vain expectation, Salvina mechanically returned +to her Greek grammar, which opened as automatically at the irregular +verbs. She had just achieved the greatest distinction of her life, and +one not often paralleled in Board School girl-circles, by +matriculating at the London University. Hers was only a second-class +pass, but gained by private night-study, supplemented by some evening +lessons at the People's Palace, it was sufficiently remarkable; +especially when one considered she had still other subjects to prepare +for the Centres. Salvina was now audaciously aiming at the +Bachelorhood of Arts, for which the Greek verbs were far more +irregular. It was not only the love of knowledge that animated her: as +a bachelor she might become a head-mistress, nay, might even aspire to +follow the lead of her dashing elder sister and teach in a wealthy +family that treated you as one of itself. Not that Kitty had ever +matriculated, but an ugly duckling needs many plumes of learning ere +it can ruffle itself like a beautiful swan. + +Who should now come upon the promenading student but Sugarman the +Shadchan, his hand full of papers, and his blue bandanna trailing from +his left coat-tail! + +"Ah, you are the very person I was coming to see," he cried gleefully +in his corrupt German accent. "What is your sister's address now?" + +"Why?" said Salvina distrustfully. + +"I have a fine young man for her!" + +Salvina's pallid cheek coloured with modesty and resentment. "My +sister doesn't need your services." + +"Maybe not," said Sugarman, unruffled. "But the young man does. He saw +your sister once years ago, before he went to the Cape. Now he is a +_Takif_ (rich man) and wants a wife." + +"He's not rich enough to buy Kitty." Salvina's romantic soul was +outraged, and she spoke with unwonted asperity. + +"He is rich enough to buy Kitty all she wants. He is quite in love +with her--she can ask for anything." + +"Then let him go and tell her so himself. What does he come to you +for? He must be a very poor lover." + +"Poor! I tell you he is rolling in gold. It's the luckiest thing that +could have happened to your family. You will all ride in your +carriage. You ought to fall on your knees and bless me. Your sister is +not so young any more, at nineteen a girl can't afford to sniff. +Believe me there are thousands of girls who would jump at the +chance--yes, girls with dowries, too. And your sister hasn't a penny." + +"My sister has a heart and a soul," retorted Salvina witheringly, "and +she wants a heart and a soul to sympathize with hers, not a +money-bag." + +"Then, won't you take a ticket for the lotte_ree_?" rejoined Sugarman +pleasantly. "Then you get a money-bag of your own." + +"No, thank you." + +"Not even half a ticket? Only thirty-six shillings! You needn't pay me +now. I trust you." + +She shook her head. + +"But think--I may win you the great prize--a hundred thousand marks." + +The sum fascinated Salvina, and for an instant her imagination played +with its marvellous potentialities. They could all move to the +country, and there among the birds and the flowers she could study all +day long, and even try for a degree with Honours. Her father would be +saved from the cigar factory, her sister from exile amid strangers, +her mother should have a servant, her brother the wife he coveted. All +her Spitalfields circle had speculated through Sugarman, not without +encouraging hits. She smiled as she remembered the vendor of slippers +who had won sixty pounds and was so puffed up that when his wife +stopped in the street to speak to a shabby acquaintance, he cried +vehemently, "Betsey, Betsey, do learn to behave according to your +station." + +"You don't believe me?" said Sugarman, misapprehending her smile. "You +can read it all for yourself. A hundred thousand marks, so sure my +little Nehemiah shall see rejoicings. Look!" + +But Salvina waved back the thin rustling papers with their exotic +Continental flavour. "Gambling is wicked," she said. + +Sugarman was incensed. "Me in a wicked business! Why, I know more +Talmud than anybody in London, and can be called up the Law as +_Morenu_! You'll say marrying is wicked, next. But they are both State +Institutions. England is the only country in the world without a +lotte_ree_." + +Salvina wavered, but her instinct was repugnant to money that did not +accumulate itself by slow, painful economies, and her multifarious +reading had made the word "Speculation" a prism of glittering vice. + +"I daresay _you_ think it's not wrong," she said, "and I apologize if +I hurt your feelings. But don't you see how you go about unsettling +people?" + +"Me! Why, I settle them! And if you'd only give me your sister's +address--" + +His persistency played upon Salvina's delicate conscience; made her +feel she must not refuse the poor man everything. Besides, the grand +address would choke him off. + +"She's at Bedford Square, with the Samuelsons." + +"Ah, I know. Two daughters, Lily and Mabel," and Sugarman instead of +being impressed nodded his head, as if even the Samuelsons were +mortal and marriageable. + +"Yes, my sister is their governess and companion. But you'll only +waste your time." + +"You think so?" he said triumphantly. "Look at this likeness!" + +And he drew out the photograph of a coarse-faced middle-aged man, with +a jaunty flower in his frock-coat and a prosperous abdomen supporting +a heavily trinketed watch-chain. Underneath swaggered the signature, +"Yours truly, Moss M. Rosenstein." + +Salvina shuddered: "He was wise to send _you_," she said slyly. + +"Is it not so? Ah, and your brother, too, would have done better to +come to me instead of falling in love with a girl with a hundred +pounds. But I bear your family no grudge, you see. Perhaps it is not +too late yet. Tell Lazarus that if he should come to break with the +Jonases, there are better fish in the sea--gold fish, too. Good-bye. +We shall both dance at your sister's wedding." And he tripped off. + +Salvina resumed her Greek, but the grotesque aorists could not hold +her attention. She was hungry and worn out, and even when her mother +came, it would be some time before her evening meal could be prepared. +She felt she must sit down, if only on her doorsteps, but their +whiteness was inordinately marred as by many dirty boots--she wondered +whose and why--and she had to content herself with leaning against +the stucco balustrade. And gradually as the summer twilight faded, the +grammar dropped in her hand, and Salvina fell a-dreaming. + +What did she dream of, this Board School drudge, whose pasty face was +craned curiously forward on sloping shoulders? Was it of the enchanted +land of love of which Sugarman had reminded her, but over whose roses +he had tramped so grossly? Alas! Sugarman himself had never thought of +her as a client for any but the lottery section of his business. +Within, she was one glow of eager romance, of honour, of quixotic +duty, but no ray of this pierced without to give a sparkle to the eye, +a colour to the cheek. No faintest dash of coquetry betrayed the +yearning of the soul or gave grace to walk or gesture: her dress was +merely a tidy covering. Her exquisite sensibility found bodily +expression only as a clumsy shyness. + +Poor Salvina! + + +II + +At last the welcome jar and creak of the gate awoke her. + +"Why, I thought you knew I had to go to the Borough!" began a fretful +voice, forestalling reproach, and a buxom woman resplendent with black +satin and much jewellery came up the tiny garden-path. + +"It doesn't matter, mother--I haven't been waiting long." + +"Well, you know how difficult it is to get a 'bus in this weather--at +least if you want to sit outside, and it always makes my head ache +frightfully to go inside--I'm not strong and young like you--and such +a long way, I had to change at the Bank, and I made sure you'd get +something to eat at one of the girls', and go straight to the People's +Palace." + +Still muttering, Mrs. Brill produced a key, and after some fumbling +threw open the door. Both made a step within, then both stopped, +aghast. + +"It's the wrong house," thought Salvina confusedly, conscious of her +power of making such mistakes. + +"_Kisshuf_ (witchcraft)!" whispered her mother, terrified into her +native idiom. The passage lay before them, entirely bare of all its +familiar colour and furniture: the framed engravings depicting the +trials of William Lord Russell, in the Old Bailey, and Earl Stafford +in Westminster Hall, the flower-pots on the hall table, the proudly +purchased hat-rack, the metal umbrella-stand, all gone! And beyond, +facing them, lay the parlour, an equally forlorn vacancy striking like +a blast of chilly wind through its wide-open door. + +"Thieves!" cried Mrs. Brill, reverting from the supernatural and the +Yiddish. "Murder! I'm ruined! They've stolen my house!" + +"Hush! Hush!" said Salvina, strung to calm by her mother's +incoherence. "Let us see first what has really happened." + +"Happened! Haven't you got eyes in your head? All the fruit of my +years of toil!" And Mrs. Brill wrung her jewelled hands. "Your father +would have me call on those Sperlings, though I told him they'd be +glad to dance on my tomb. And why didn't Lazarus stay at home?" + +"You know he has to be out looking for work." + +"And my gilt clock that I trembled even to wind up, and the big vase +with the picture on it, and my antimacassars, and my beautiful couch +that nobody had ever sat upon! Oh my God, oh my God!" + +Leaving her mother moaning out a complete inventory in the passage, +Salvina advanced into the violated parlour. It was an aching void. On +the bare mantelpiece, just where the gilt clock had announced a +perpetual half-past two, gleamed an unstamped letter. She took it up +wonderingly. It was in her father's schoolboyish hand, addressed to +her mother. She opened it, as usual, for Mrs. Brill did not even know +the alphabet, and refused steadily to make its acquaintance, to the +ironic humiliation of the Board School teacher. + + "You would not let me give you _Get_," [ran the letter + abruptly], "so you have only yourself to blame. I have left the + clothes in the bed-rooms, but what is mine is mine. Good-bye. + + "MICHAEL BRILL. + + "P.S.--Don't try to find me at the factory. I have left." + +Salvina steadied herself against the mantelpiece till the room should +have finished reeling round. _Get!_ Her father had wanted to put away +her mother! Divorce, departure, devastation--what strange things were +these, come to wreck a prosperity so slowly built up! + +"Quick, Salvina, there goes a policeman!" came her mother's cry. + +The room stood still suddenly. "Hush, hush, mother," Salvina said +imperiously. "There's no thief!" She ran back into the passage, the +letter in her hand. + +A fierce flame of intelligence leapt into the woman's face. "Ah, it's +your father!" she cried. "I knew it, I knew he'd go after that painted +widow, just because she has a little money, a black curse on her +bones. Oh! oh! God in heaven! To bring such shame on me, for the sake +of a saucy-nosed slut whose sister sold ironmongery in Petticoat +Lane--a low lot, one and all, and not fit to wipe my shoes on, even +when she was respectable, and this is what you call a father, Salvina! +Oh my God, my God!" + +Salvina was by this time dazed, yet she had a gleam of consciousness +left with which to register this culminating destruction of all her +social landmarks. What! That monstrous wickedness of marquises and +epauletted officers which hovered vaguely in the shadow-land of novels +and plays had tumbled with a bang into real life; had fallen not even +into its natural gilded atmosphere, but through the amulet-guarded +doors of a respectable Jewish family in the heart of a Hackney +Terrace, amid the horsehair couches and deal tables of homely reality. +Nay--more sordid than the romantic wickedness of shadowland--it had +even removed those couches and tables! And oddly blent with this +tossing chaos of new thought in Salvina's romantic brain surged up +another thought, no less new and startling. Her father and mother had +once loved each other! They, too, had dawned upon each other, fairy +prince and fairy princess; had laid in each other's hand that warm +touch of trust and readiness to live and die for each other. It was +very wonderful, and she almost forgot their hostile relationship in a +rapid back-glance upon the years in which they had lived in mutual +love before her unsuspecting eyes. Their prosaic bickering selves were +transfigured: her vivid imagination threw off the damage of the years, +saw her coarse, red-cheeked father and her too plump mother as the +idyllic figures on the lamented parlour vase. And when her thought +struggled painfully back to the actual moment, it was with a new +concrete sense of its tragic intensity. + +"O mother, mother!" she cried, as she threw her arms round her. The +Greek grammar and the letter fell unregarded to the floor. + +The fountain of Mrs. Brill's wrongs leapt higher at the sympathy. "And +I could have had half-a-dozen young men! The boils of Egypt be upon +him! Time after time I said, 'No,' though the Shadchan bewitched my +parents into believing that Michael was an angel without wings." + +"But you also thought father an angel," Salvina pleaded. + +"Yes; and now he _has_ got wings," said Mrs. Brill savagely. + +Salvina's tears began to ooze out. Poor swain and shepherdess on the +parlour vase! Was this, then, how idylls ended? "Perhaps he'll come +back," she murmured. + +The wife snorted viciously. "And my furniture? The beautiful furniture +I toiled and scraped for, that he always grumbled at, though I saved +it out of the housekeeping money, without its costing _him_ a penny, +and no man in London had better meals,--hot meat every day and fish +for Sabbath, even when plaice were eightpence a pound,--and no +servant--every scrap of work done with my own two hands! Now he carts +everything away as if it were his." + +"I suppose it is by law," Salvina said mildly. + +"Law! I'll have the law on him." + +"Oh, no, mother!" and Salvina shuddered. "Besides, he has left our +clothes." + +Mrs. Brill's eye lit up. "I see no clothes." + +"In our rooms. The letter says so." + +"And you still believe what he says?" She began to mount the stairs. +"I am sure he packed in my Paisley shawl while he was about it. It is +fortunate I wore all my jewellery. And you always say I put on too +much!" + +Sustained by this unanswerable vindication of her past policy, Mrs. +Brill ascended the stairs without further wailing. + +Salvina, whose sense of romance never exalted her above the practical, +remembered now that her brother Lazarus might come back at any moment +clamorously hungry. This pinned her to the concrete moment. How to get +him some supper! And her mother, too, must be faint and tired. She ran +into the kitchen, and found enough odds and ends left to make a meal, +and even a cracked teapot and a few coarse cups not worth carrying +away; and, with a sense of Robinson Crusoe adventure, she extracted +light, heat, and cheerfulness from the obedient gas branch, which took +on the air of a case of precious goods not washed away in the +household wreck. When her mother at last came down, cataloguing the +wardrobe salvage in picturesque Yiddish, Salvina stopped her curses +with hot tea. They both drank, leaning against the kitchen-dresser, +which served for a table for the cups. + +Salvina's Crusoe excitement increased when her mother asked her where +they were to sleep, seeing that even the beds had been spirited away. + +"I have five shillings in my purse; I'll go out and buy a cheap +mattress. But then there's Lazarus! Oh dear!" + +"Lazarus has his own bed. Yes, yes, thank God, we'll be able to borrow +his wedding furniture." + +"But it's all stored away in the Jonas's attic." + +A smart rat-tat at the door denoted the inopportune return of Lazarus +himself. Salvina darted upstairs to let him in and break the shock. He +was a slimmer and more elegant edition of his father, a year older +than Kitty, and taller than Salvina by a jaunty head and shoulders. + +"And why isn't the hall lamp alight?" he queried, as her white face +showed itself in the dusky door-slit. "It looks so beastly shabby. The +only light's in the kitchen; I daresay you and the mater are pigging +there again. Why can't you live up to your position?" + +The unexpected reproach broke her down. "We have no position any +more," she sobbed out. And all the long years of paralyzing economies +swept back to her memory, all the painful progress--accelerated by her +growing salary--from the Hounsditch apartments to the bow-windows and +gas-chandeliers of Hackney! + +"What do you mean? What is the matter? Speak, you little fool! Don't +cry." He came across the threshold and shook her roughly. + +"Father's run away with the furniture and some woman," she explained +chokingly. + +"The devil!" The smart cane slipped from his fingers and he +maintained his cigar in his mouth with difficulty. "Do you mean to say +the old man has gone and--the beastly brute! The selfish hypocrite! +But how could he get the furniture?" + +"He made mother go on a visit to the Borough." + +"The old fox! That's your religious chaps. I'll go and give 'em both +brimstone. Where are they?" + +"I don't know where--but you must not--it is all too horrible. There's +nothing even to sleep on. We thought of borrowing your furniture!" + +"What! And give the whole thing away to the Jonases--and lose Rhoda, +perhaps. Good heavens, Sally. Don't be so beastly selfish. Think of +the disgrace, if we can't cover it up." + +"The disgrace is for father, not for you." + +"Don't be an idiot. Old Jonas looked down on us enough already, and if +it hadn't been for Kitty's calling on him in the Samuelsons' carriage, +he might never have consented to the engagement." + +"Oh, dear!" said Salvina, melted afresh by this new aspect. "My poor +Lazarus!" and she gazed dolefully at the handsome youth who had +divided with Kitty the good looks of the family. "But still," she +added consolingly, "you couldn't have married for a long time, +anyhow." + +"I don't know so much. I had a very promising interview this afternoon +with the manager of Granders Brothers, the big sponge-people." + +"But you don't understand travelling in sponge." + +"Pooh! Travelling's travelling. There's nothing to understand. +Whatever the article is, you just tell lies about it." + +"Oh, Lazarus!" + +"Don't make eyes--you ain't pretty enough. What do you know of the +world, you who live mewed up in a Board School? I daresay you believe +all the rot you have to tell the little girls." + +Her brother's shot made a wound he had not intended. Salvina was at +last reminded of her own relation to the sordid tragedy, of what the +other teachers would think, ay, even the little girls, so sharp in all +that did not concern school-learning. Would her pupils have any +inkling of the cloud on teacher's home? Ah, her brother was right. +This disgrace besplashed them all, and she saw herself confusedly as a +tainted figure holding forth on honour and duty to rows of white +pinafores. + + +III + +Meantime, her mother had toiled up--her jewels glittering curiously in +the dusk--and now poured herself out to the fresh auditor in a +breathless wail; recapitulated her long years of devotion and the +abstracted contents of the house. But Lazarus soon wearied of the +inventory of her virtues and furniture. + +"What's the use of crying over spilt milk?" he said. "You must get a +new jug." + +"A new jug! And what about the basin and the coffee-pot and the +saucepans and the plates! And my new blue dish with the +willow-pattern. Oh, my God!" + +"Don't be so stupid." + +"She's a little dazed, Lazarus, dear. Have patience with her. Lazarus +says it's no use crying and letting the neighbours hear you: we must +make the best of a bad job, and cover it up." + +"You'll soon cover me up. I won't need my clothes then--only a clean +shroud. After twenty years--he wipes his mouth and he goes away! Tear +the rent in your garments, children mine, your mother is dead." + +"How can any one have patience with her?" cried Lazarus. "One would +think it was such a treat for her to live with father. Judging by the +rows you've had, mother, you ought to be thankful to be rid of him." + +"I _am_ thankful," she retorted hysterically. "Who said I wasn't? A +grumbling, grunting pig, who grudged me my horsehair couch because he +couldn't sit on it. Well, let him squat on it now with his lady. I +don't care. All my enemies will pity me, will they? If they only knew +how glad I was!" and she broke into more sobs. + +"Come, mother; come downstairs, Lazarus: don't let us stay up in the +dark." + +"Not me," said Lazarus. "I'm not going down to hear this all over +again. Besides, where am I to sit or to sleep? I must go to an hotel." +He struck a match to relight his cigar and it flared weirdly upon the +tear-smudged female faces. "Got any money, Salvina," he said more +gently. + +"Only five shillings." + +"Well, I daresay I can manage on that. Good-night, mother, don't take +on so, it'll be all the same a hundred years hence." He opened the +door; then paused with his hand on the knob, and said awkwardly: "I +suppose you'll manage to find something to sleep on just for +to-night." + +"Oh, yes," said Salvina reassuringly; "we'll manage. Don't worry, +dear." + +"I'll be in the first thing in the morning. We'll have a council of +war. Good-night. It _is_ a beastly mean trick," and he went out +meditatively. + +When he was gone, Salvina remembered that the five shillings were for +the mattress. But she further bethought herself that the sum would +scarcely have sufficed even for a straw mattress, and that the little +gold ring Kitty had given her when she matriculated would fetch more. +Her mother's jewellery must be left sacred; the poor creature was +smarting enough from the sense of loss. Bidding her sit on the stairs +till she returned, she hastened into Mare Street, the great Hackney +highway, christened "The Devil's Mile" by the Salvation Army. Early +experience had familiarized her with the process of pawning, but now +she slipped furtively into the first pawn-shop and did not stay to +make a good bargain. She spent on a telegram to the central +post-office sixpence of the proceeds, so that she might be able to +draw out without delay the few pounds she had laid by for her summer +holiday. While she was purchasing the mattress at the garishly +illuminated furniture store, the words "Hire System" caught her eye, +and seemed a providential solution of the position. She broached +negotiations for the furnishing of a bed-room and a kitchen, minus +carpet and oilcloth (for these would not fit the cheaper apartments +into which they would now have to revert), but she found there were +tedious formalities to be gone through, and that her own signature +would be invalid, as she was legally a child. However, she was able to +secure the porterage of the mattress at once, and, followed by a +bending Atlas, she hurried back to her mother--who sat on her stair, +moaning--and diverted her from her griefs by teaching her to sign her +name, in view of the legal exigencies of the morrow. It was a curious +wind-up to her day's teaching. Poor Mrs. Brill's obstinate objection +to education had to give way at last under such unexpected conditions, +but she insisted on the shortest possible spelling, and so the uncouth +"Esther Brills" pencilled at the top of the sheet were exchanged for +more flowing "E. Brills" lower down. Even then, the good woman took +the thing as a pictorial flourish, or a section of a map, and +disdained acquaintance with the constituent letters, so that her +progress in learning remained only nominal. + +Then the "infant" at law put her mother to bed and lay down beside her +on the mattress, both in their clothes for lack of blankets. The +mother soon dozed off, but the "child" lay turning from side to side. +The pressure of her little tasks had dulled the edge of emotion, but +now, in the silence of the night, the whole tragic position came back +with all its sordid romanticism, its pathetic meanness; and when at +last she slept, its obsession lay heavy upon her dreams, and she sat +at her examination desk in the London University, striving horridly to +recall the irregularities of Greek verbs, and to set them down with a +pen that could never dip up any ink, while the inexorable hands of the +clock went round, and her father, in the coveted Bachelor's gown, +waited to spirit away her desk and seat as soon as the hour should +strike. + + +IV + +The next morning Salvina should have awakened with a sense through all +her bones that it was Friday--the last day of the school-week, +harbinger of such blessed rest that the mere expectation of it was +also a rest. Alas! she woke from the nightmare of sleep to the +nightmare of reality, and the week-end meant only time to sound the +horror of the new situation. + +In one point alone, Friday remained a consolation. Only one day to +face her fellow-teachers and her children, and then two days for +hiding from the world with her pain, for preparing to face it again; +to say nothing of the leisure for practical recuperation of the home. + +Lazarus turned up so late that the council of war was of the briefest +and held almost on the door-step, for Salvina must be in school by +nine. The thought of staying away--even in this crisis--simply did not +occur to her. + +She arranged that Lazarus was to meet her in the city after morning +school, when she would have drawn her savings from the post-office: +more than enough for the advance on the furniture, which must be +delivered that very afternoon. Lazarus had been for telegraphing at +once to Kitty for assistance, but Salvina put her foot down. + +"Let us not frighten her--I will go and break it to her on Sunday +afternoon. You know she can't spare any money; it is as much as she +can do to dress up to the position." + +"I do hope the scandal won't spread," said Lazarus gloomily. "It would +be a nice thing if she lost the position and fell back on our hands." + +"Yes, he has ruined all my children," sobbed Mrs. Brill, breaking out +afresh. "But what did he care? Ah, if it wasn't for me, you would have +been in the workhouse long ago." + +"Well then, go and do your Sabbath marketing or else we'll have to go +there now," said Lazarus not unkindly; "the tradespeople will give you +credit." + +"Rather! They know _I_ never ran away." + +"And mind, mother," said Salvina as she snatched up her Greek grammar, +"mind the fried fish is as good as usual; we're a long way from the +workhouse yet! And if you're not in to-night, Lazarus," she whispered +as she ran off, "I'll never forgive you." + +"Well, I'm blowed!" said Lazarus, looking after the awkward little +figure, flying to catch the 8.21. + +"Yes, but I've no frying pan!" Mrs. Brill called after her. + +"You'll have it by this afternoon," Salvina called back reassuringly. + +The sun was already strong, the train packed, and Salvina stood so +jammed in that she could scarcely hold her grammar open, and the +irregular verbs danced before her eyes even more than their strange +moods and tenses warranted. At the school her thrilling consciousness +of her domestic tragedy interposed some strange veil between her and +her fellow-teachers, and they seemed to stand away from her, enveloped +in another atmosphere. She heard herself teaching--five elevens are +fifty-five--and her own self seemed to stand away from her, too. She +noted without protest two of the girls pulling each other's hair in +some far-off hazy world, and the answering drone of the class--five +elevens are fifty-five--seemed like the peaceful buzzing of a +gigantic blue-bottle on a drowsy afternoon. It occurred to her +suddenly that she was fifty-five years old, and when Miss Rolver, the +Christian head-mistress, came into her room, Salvina had an unexpected +feeling of advantage in life-experience over this desiccated specimen +of femininity, redolent of time-tables, record-parchments, foolscap, +and clean blotting-paper. Outside all this scheduled world pulsed a +large irregular life of flesh and blood; all the primitive verbs in +every language were irregular, it suddenly flashed upon her, and she +had an instant of vivifying insight into the Greek language she had +unquestioningly accepted as "dead"; saw Grecian men and women +breathing their thoughts and passions--even expressing the shape of +their throats and lips--through these erratic aorists. + +"You look tired, dear," said the head-mistress. + +"It's the heat," Salvina murmured. + +"Never mind; the summer holidays will soon be here." + +It sounded a mockery. Summer holidays would no longer mean Ramsgate, +and delicious days of study on sunny cliffs, with the relaxation of +novels and poems. These slowly achieved luxuries of the last two years +were impossible for this year at least. And this thought of being +penned up in London during the dog days oppressed her: she felt +choking. Her next sensation was of water sprinkling on her face, and +of Miss Rolver's kind anxious voice asking her if she felt better. +Instead of replying, Salvina wondered in a clouded way where the +school-managers were. + +Even her naive mind had been struck at last by the coincidence that +whenever, after a managers' meeting, these omnipotent ladies and +gentlemen from a higher world strolled through the school, Miss Rolver +happened to be discovered in an interesting attitude. If it was the +play-hour, she would be--for this occasion only--in the playground +leading the games, surrounded by clamorously affectionate little ones. +If it was working-time, she was found as a human island amid a sea of +sewing: billows of pinafores and aprons heaved tumultuously around +her. Or, with a large air of angelic motherhood, she would be tying up +some child's bruised finger. Her greatest invention--so it had +appeared to the scrupulous Salvina--was the stray, starved, +half-frozen, sweet little kitten, lapping up milk from a saucer before +a ruddy blazing fire at the very instant of the great personages' +passage. How they had beamed, one and all, at the touching sight. + +Hence it was that Salvina's dazed vision now sought vaguely for the +school-managers. But in another instant she realized that this present +solicitude was not for another but for herself, and that it had +nothing of the theatrical. A remorseful pang of conscience added to +her pains. She said tremulously that she felt better and was gently +chided for over-study and admonished to go home and rest. + +"Oh, no, I am all right now," she responded instinctively. + +"But I'll take your class," Miss Rolver insisted, and Salvina found +herself wandering outside in the free sunshine, with a sense of the +forbidden. An acute consciousness of Board School classes droning +dutifully all over London made the streets at that hour strange and +almost sinful. She went to the post-office and drew out as much of her +money as red tape allowed, and while wandering about in Whitechapel +waiting for the hour of her rendezvous with Lazarus, she had time to +purchase a coarse but white table-cloth, a plush cover embroidered +with "Jerusalem" in Hebrew, and a gilt goblet. These were for the +Friday-night table. + + +V + +But the Sabbath brought no peace. Though miracles were wrought in that +afternoon, and, except that it was laid in the kitchen, the Sabbath +table had all its immemorial air, with the consecration cup, the long +plaited loaves under the "Jerusalem" cover, and the dish of fried +fish that had grown to seem no less religious; yet there could be no +glossing over the absence of the gross-paunched paternal figure that +had so unctuously presided over the ceremony. His vacant place held +all the emptiness of death, and all the fulness of retrospective +profanation. How like he was to Moss M. Rosenstein, Salvina thought +suddenly. Lazarus had ignored the gilt goblet and the shilling bottle +of claret, and was helping himself from the coffee-pot, when his +mother cried bitterly: "What! are we to eat like the animals?" + +"Oh bother!" Lazarus exclaimed. "You know I hate all these mummeries. +I wouldn't say if they really made people good. But you see for +yourself--" + +"Oh, but you must say _Kiddush_, Lazarus," said Salvina, half +pleadingly, half peremptorily. She fetched the prayer-book and +Lazarus, grumbling inarticulately, took the head of the table, and +stumbled through the prayer, thanking God for having chosen and +sanctified Israel above all nations, and in love and favour given it +the holy Sabbath as an inheritance. + +But oh! how tamely the words sounded, how void of that melodious +devotion thrilling through the joyous roulades of the father. It was a +sort of symbol of the mutilated home, and thus Salvina felt it. And +she remembered the last ceremony at which her father had +presided--that of the Separation when the Sabbath faded into +work-day--the ceremony of Division between the Holy and the Profane, +and she shivered to think it had indeed marked for the unhappy man the +line of demarcation. + +"Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, who hallowest the Sabbath," +Lazarus was mumbling, and in another instant he was awkwardly +distributing the ritual morsels of bread. + +But the mother could not swallow hers, for indignant imaginings of the +rival Sabbath board. "May _her_ morsel choke her!" she cried, and +nearly was choked by her own. + +"Oh, mother, do not mention her--neither her nor him.--_Never any +more_," said Salvina. And again the new note of peremptoriness rang in +her voice, and her mother stopped suddenly short like a scolded child. + +"Will you have plaice or sole, mother?" Salvina went on, her voice +changing to a caress. + +"I can't eat, Salvina. Don't ask me." + +"But you must eat." And Salvina calmly helped her to fish and to +coffee and put in the lumps of sugar; and the mother ate and drank +with equal calm, as if hypnotized. + +All through the meal Salvina's mind kept swinging betwixt the past and +the future. Strange odds and ends of scenes came up in which her +father figured, and her old and new conceptions of him interplayed +bewilderingly. Her sudden vision of him as Moss M. Rosenstein +persisted, and could only be laid by concentrating her thoughts on the +early days when he used to take herself and Kitty to Victoria Park, +carrying her in his arms when she was tired. But it made her cry to +see that little tired happy figure cuddling the trusted giant, and +she had to jump for refuge into the future. + +They must move back to Hounsditch. She must give up the idea of +becoming a "Bachelor": the hours of evening study must now be devoted +to teaching others. Her University distinction was already great +enough to give her an unusual chance of pupils, while her "Yiddish," +sucked in with her mother's milk, had become exceptionally good German +under study. She might hope for as much as two shillings an hour and +thus earn a whole sovereign extra per week. + +And over this poor helpless blighted mother, she would watch as over a +child. All the maternal instinct in her awoke under the stress of this +curiously inverted position. Her remorseful memory summoned a +penitential procession of bygone petulances. Never again would she be +cross or hasty with this ill-starred heroine. Yes, her mother was +become a figure of romance to her, as well as a nursling. This woman, +whose prosaic humours she had so often fretted under, was in truth a +woman who had lived and loved. She had ceased to be a mere mother; a +large being who presided over one's childhood. And this imaginative +insight, she noted with surprise, would never have been hers but for +her father's desertion: like one who realizes the virtues of a corpse, +she had waited till love was slain to perceive its fragrance. + +A postman's knock, as the meal was finished, made her heart give a +corresponding pit-a-pat, and she turned quite faint. All her nerves +seemed to be on the rack, expecting new sensational developments. The +letter was for Lazarus. + +"Ah, you abomination!" cried his mother, as he tore open the envelope. +He did not pause to defend his Sabbath breaking, but cried joyfully: +"What did I tell you? Granders Brothers offer me travelling expenses +and a commission!" + +"Oh, thank God, thank God!" ejaculated his mother, her eyes raised +piously. He took up his hat. "Where are you going?" said Mrs. Brill. + +"To see Rhoda of course. Don't you think she's as anxious about it as +you?" + +Salvina's eyes were full of sympathetic tears: "Yes, yes, let him go, +mother." + + +VI + +On the Sunday afternoon, feeling much better for the Saturday rest, +and scrupulously gloved, shod, and robed in deference to the grandeur +of her destination, Salvina boarded an omnibus, and after a tedious +journey, involving a walk at the end, she arrived at the West End +square in which her sister bloomed as governess and companion in a +newly enriched Jewish family. She stood an instant in the porch to +compose herself for the tragic task before her and felt in her pocket +to be sure she had not lost the little bottle of smelling-salts with +which she had considerately armed herself, in anticipation of a +failure of Kitty's nerves. Then she knocked timidly at the door, which +was opened by a speckless boy in buttons, who also opened up to her +imagination endless vistas of aristocratic association. His impressive +formality, as of the priest of a shrine, seemed untinged by any +remembrance that on her one previous visit she had been made free of +the holy of holies. But perhaps it was not the same boy. He was indeed +less a boy to her than a row of buttons, and less a row of buttons +than a symbol of all the elegances and opulences in which Kitty moved +as to the manner born; the elaborate ritual of the toilette, the +sacramental shaving of poodles, the mysterious panoramic dinners in +which one had to be constantly aware of the appropriate fork. + +Salvina had not waited a minute in the imposing hall, ere a radiant +belle flew down the stairs--with a vivacity that troubled the +sacro-sanct atmosphere--and caught Salvina in her arms. + +"Oh, you dear Sally! I am _so_ glad to see you," and a fusillade of +kisses accompanied the hug. "Whatever brings you here? Oh, and such a +dowdy frock! You needn't flush up so, silly little child; nobody +expects you to know how to dress like us ignoramuses, and it doesn't +matter to-day, there's no one to see you, for they're all out driving, +and I'm lying down with a headache." + +"Poor Kitty. But then you ought to be out driving." She was divided +between sympathy for the sufferer, and admiration of the finished, +fine ladyhood implied in indifference to the chance of a +carriage-drive. + +"Yes, but I've so many letters to write, and they don't really drive +on Sundays, just stop at house after house, and not good houses +either. It is such a bore. They've never shaken off the society they +had before they made their money." + +"Well, but that's rather nice of them." + +"Perhaps, but not nice for me. But come upstairs and you shall have +some tea." + +Salvina mounted the broad staircase with a reverence attuned to her +own hushed footfalls, but her task of breaking the news to her sister +weighed the heavier upon her for all this subdued magnificence. It +seemed almost profane to bring the squalid episodes of Hackney into +this atmosphere, appropriate indeed to the sinful romances of +marquises and epauletted officers, but wholly out of accord with +surreptitious furniture vans. What a blow to poor Kitty the news would +be! She dallied weakly, till the tea was brought by a powdered +footman. Then she had an ingenious idea for a little shock to lead up +to a greater. She would say they were going to move. But as she took +off her white glove not to sully it with the tea and cake, Kitty +cried: "Why what have you done with my ring?" + +Here was an excellent natural opening, but Salvina was taken too much +aback to avail herself of it, especially as the artificial opening +preoccupied her mind. "Oh, your ring's all right," she said hastily; +"I came to tell you we are going to move." + +Kitty clapped her hands. "Ah! so you've taken my advice at last! I'm +so glad. It wasn't nice for me to stay with you at that dingy hole, +even for a day or two a year. Mustn't mother be pleased!" + +Salvina bit her lip. Her task was now heavier than ever. + +"No, mother isn't pleased. She is crying about it." + +"Crying? Disgusting. How she still hankers after Spitalfields and the +Lane!" + +"She isn't crying for that, but because father won't go with us." + +"Oh, I have no patience with father. He hasn't a soul above red +herrings and potatoes." + +"Oh, yes he has. He has left us." + +"What! Left you?" Kitty's pretty eyes opened wide. "Because he won't +move to a better house!" + +"No, we are moving to a worse house because he has moved to a better." + +"What _are_ you talking about? Is it a joke? A riddle? I give it up." + +"Father--can't you guess, Kitty?--father has gone away. There is some +other woman." + +"No?" gasped Kitty. "Ha! ha! ha! ha!" and she shook with long peals +of silvery laughter. "Well, of all the funny things! Ha! ha! ha!" + +"Funny!" and Salvina looked at her sternly. + +"What, don't you see the humour of it? Father turning into the hero of +a novelette. Romance and red herrings! Passion and potatoes! Ha! ha! +ha!" + +"If you had seen the havoc it wrought, you wouldn't have had the heart +to laugh." + +"Oh well, mother was crying. That I understand. But that's nothing new +for her. She'd cry just as much if he were there. The average rainfall +is--how many inches?" + +Salvina's face was stern and white. "A mother's tears are sacred," she +said in low but firm protest. + +"Oh, dear me, Sally, I always forget you have no sense of humour. +Well, what are you going to do about it?" and her own sense of humour +continued to twitch and dimple the corners of her pretty mouth. + +"I told you. We cannot afford to keep up the house--we must go back to +apartments in Spitalfields." + +Instantly Kitty's face grew as serious as Salvina's. "Oh, nonsense!" +she said instinctively. The thought of her family returning to the +discarded shell of apartments was humiliating; her own personality +seemed being dragged back. + +"We can't pay the rent. We must give a quarter's notice at once." + +"Absurd! You'll only save a few shillings a week. Why can't you let +apartments yourselves? At least you would preserve a decent +appearance." + +"Is it worth while having the responsibility of the rent? There's only +mother and I--we shan't need a house." + +"But there's Lazarus!" + +"He'll have a place of his own. He'll marry before our notice +expires." + +"That same Jonas girl?" + +"Yes." + +"Ridiculous. Small tradespeople, and dreadfully common, all the lot. I +thought he'd got over his passion for that bold black creature who's +been seen licking ice-cream out of a street-glass. To connect us with +that family! Men are so selfish. But I still don't see why you can't +remain as you are--let your drawing-room, say, furnished." + +"But it isn't furnished." + +"Not furnished. Why, I've sat on the couch myself." + +"Yes," said Salvina, a faint smile tempering her deadly gravity. "You +are the only person who has ever done that. But there's no couch now. +Father smuggled all the furniture away in a van." + +Again Kitty's silver laughter rang out unquenchably. + +"And you don't call that funny! Eloped with the chairs! I call it +killing." + +"Yes, for mother," said Salvina. + +"Pooh! She'll outlive all of us. I wish you were as sure of getting +the furniture back. She's not a bad mother, as mothers go, but you +take her too seriously." + +"But, Kitty, consider the disgrace!" + +"The disgrace of having a wicked parent! I've endured for years the +disgrace of having a poor one--and that's worse. My people--the +Samuelsons, I mean--will never even hear of the pater's +escapade--gossip keeps strictly to its station. And even if they do, +they know already my family's under a cloud, and they have learned to +accept me for myself." + +"Well, I am glad you don't mind," said Salvina, half-relieved, +half-shocked. + +"I mind, if it makes you uncomfortable, you dear, silly Sally." + +"Oh, don't worry about me. I think I'll go back to mother, now." + +"Nonsense, why, we haven't begun to talk yet. Have another cup of tea. +No? How's old Miss What's-a-name, your head-mistress? Any more frozen +little kittens?" + +"She's very kind, really. I'm sorry I told you about the kitten. She +let me go home early on Friday." + +"Why? To track the van?" + +"No; I wasn't very well." + +"Poor Sally!" and Kitty hugged her again. "I daresay you were more +upset than mother." + +Tears came into Salvina's eyes at her sister's affectionateness. "Oh, +no; but please don't talk about it any more. Father is dead to us +now." + +"Then we must speak well of him." + +Salvina shuddered. "He is a wicked, heartless man, and mother and I +never wish to see his face again." + +A cloud darkened Kitty's blonde brow. + +"Yes, but she isn't going to marry another man, I hope." + +"How can she?" said Salvina. "I wouldn't let her make any public +scandal." + +"But aren't there funny laws in our religion--_Get_ and things like +that--which dispense with the English courts." + +"I believe there are--I read about something of the kind in a +novel--oh, yes! and father did offer mother _Get_ before he went off, +so I suppose he considers his conscience clear." + +"Well, I rely upon you, Sally, to see that she doesn't marry or +complicate things more. We don't want two wicked parents." + +"Of course not. But I am sure she doesn't dream of any new +complications. You don't do her justice, Kitty. She's just +broken-hearted; a perpetual widow, with worse than her husband's death +to lament." + +"Yes--her lost furniture." + +"Oh, Kitty, do realize what it means." + +"I do, my dear. I do realize it--it's too killing. Passion in a +Pantechnicon or Elopements economically conducted. By the day or hour. +Oh, dear, oh, dear! But do promise me, Salvina, that you won't go back +to Spitalfields." + +"I must be somewhere near the school, dearest. It will save +train-fares." + +Kitty pouted. "Well, you know I couldn't drive up to see you any more; +Hackney was all but outside the radius--the radius of respectability. +I couldn't ask coachman to go to Spitalfields--unless I pretended to +be slumming." + +"Well, pretend." + +"Oh, Salvina! I thought you were so conscientious. No, I'll have to +come in a cab. You're quite sure you won't have some more tea? Oh, do, +I insist. One piece of sugar?" + +"Yes, thank you, dear. By the way, has Sugarman the Shadchan been +here?" + +"You mean--has he gone?" + +"Oh, poor Kitty! It was my fault. I let him know your address. I do +hope the horrid man hasn't worried you." + +"Sugarman?" + +"No--Moss M. Rosenstein." + +"How pat you have his name! But why do you call him horrid?" + +Salvina stared. "But have you seen his photograph?" + +"Oh, you can't go by photographs. He has been here." + +"What! Sugarman had the impudence to bring him!" + +Kitty flushed slightly. "No, he called alone--this afternoon, just +before you." + +"What impertinence! A brazen commercial courtship! You wouldn't +receive him, of course." + +"Oh, well, I thought it would be fun just to look at him," said Kitty +uneasily. "A commercial courtship, as you express it, is not +unamusing." + +"I don't see anything amusing in it--it's an outrage." + +"I told you you had no sense of humour. I find it comic to be loved +before first sight by a man who has no _h_'s, but only _l_'s, _s_'s, +and _d_'s." + +"Sugarman says he did see you before loving you--noticed you before he +went to the Cape. But you must have been a little girl then." + +"He didn't tell me that--that would have been even more romantic. He +only said he fell in love with my photograph, as paraded by Sugarman." + +"Why, where should Sugarman get--" + +"You never know what mother's been up to," interrupted Kitty dryly. + +"Much more likely father." + +"What's the odds? Do have another piece of cake." + +"No, thank you. But what did you say to the man?" + +"The same as you. Don't stare so, you stupid dear. I said, No, thank +you." + +"That I knew. Of course you couldn't possibly marry a bloated creature +from the Cape. I meant, in what terms did you put him in his place?" + +"Oh, really," said Kitty, laughing, but without her recent merriment. +"This is too prejudiced. I can't admit that mere residence in the Cape +is a disqualification." + +"Oh, yes, it is. Why do they go there? Only to make money. A person +whose one idea in life is money can't be a nice person." + +"But money isn't his one idea--now his one idea is matrimony. That is +a joke. You ought to laugh." + +"It makes me cry to think that some nice girl may be driven into +marrying him just for his money." + +"Poor man! So because of his money he is to be prevented from having a +nice wife." + +Salvina was taken aback by this obverse view. + +"How is he ever to improve?" asked Kitty, pursuing her advantage. + +"Yes, that's true," Salvina admitted. "The best thing would be if some +nice girl could _fall in love_ with him. But that doesn't make his +methods less insulting. I wish all these Shadchans could be +slaughtered off." + +"What a savage little chit! They often make as good marriages as are +made in heaven." + +"Don't tease. You know you think as I do." + +Salvina took an affectionate leave of her sister, and walked down the +soft staircase, confused but cheerful. The boy in buttons let her out. +To do so he hurriedly put down the infant of the house who was riding +on his shoulders. Such a touch of humanity in a row of buttons gave +Salvina a new insight and a suspicion that even the powdered footman +who brought the tea might have an emotion behind his gorgeous +waistcoat. But the crowds fighting for the omnibuses that fine Sunday +afternoon depressed her again. All the seats outside were packed, and +it was only after standing a long time on the pavement that she +squeezed her way into an inside seat. The stuffiness and jolting made +her feel sick and dizzy. By a happy accident her fingers encountered +the bottle of smelling-salts in her pocket, and, as she pulled it out +eagerly, she remembered it had been intended for Kitty. + + +VII + +Lazarus remained out late that evening, and, as he had forgotten to +borrow the key, Salvina was sitting up for him. + +She utilized the time in preparing her sewing. She was making a +night-dress with dozens and dozens of tiny tucks at the breast, all +run by hand, and she was putting into the fine calico an artistic +needlework absolutely futile, and with its perpetual "count two, miss +two,"--infinitely trying to the eyes, especially by gas-light. The +insane competition of the teachers, refining upon a Code in itself +stupidly exacting, made the needlework the most distressing of all the +tasks of the girl-teachers of that day. Salvina herself, with her +morbid conscientiousness and desire to excel, underwent nightmares +from the vexatiousness of learning how to cut holes so that they could +not possibly be darned, and then darning them. When, at the +head-centre, the lady demonstrator, armed with a Brobdingnagian +whalebone needle, threaded with a bright red cord, executed +herringboned fantasias on a canvas frame resembling a violin stand, it +all looked easy enough. But when Salvina herself had to unravel a +little piece of stockinette with a real needle and then fill in the +hole so as to leave no trace of the crime, she was reduced to +hysteria. Even the coloured threads with which she worked were a scant +relief to the eye. And all this elaborate fancywork was entirely +useless. At home Salvina was always at work, darning and mending; +never was there a defter needle. Even the "hedge-tear-down" was neatly +and expeditiously repaired, so long as she avoided the scholastic +methods. "What's all this madness?" her mother had asked once, when +she had tried the orthodox "Swiss darning" on a real article. And +Mrs. Brill surveyed in amazement the back of the darn, which looked +like Turkish towelling. + +To-night Salvina could not long continue her taxing work. Her eyes +ached, and she at last resolved to rise early in the morning and +proceed with the night-dress then. She turned the gas low, so as to +reduce the bill, and it was as if she had turned down her own spirits, +for a strange melancholy now took possession of her in the silent +fuscous kitchen in the denuded house, and the emptiness of the other +rooms seemed to strike a chill upon her senses. There were strange +creaks and ghostly noises from all parts. She fixed her thought on the +one furnished bed-room now occupied by her mother, as on a symbol of +life and recuperation. But the uncanny noises went on; rustlings, and +patterings, and Salvina felt that she might shriek and frighten her +mother. She had almost resolved to turn up the gas, when the sound of +a harmonium came muffled through the wall, and the softened voices of +her Christian neighbours sang a Sunday hymn. Salvina ceased to be +alone; and tears bathed her cheeks, as the crude melody lilted on. She +felt absorbed in some great light and love, which was somehow both a +present possession and a beckoning future that awaited her soul, and +it was all mysteriously mixed with the blue skies of Victoria Park, in +those far-off happy days when she had gone home on her father's +shoulder; and with the blue skies of those enchanted sunlit lands of +art and beauty, in which she would wander in the glorious future, when +she should be making a hundred and fifty a year. Paris, Venice, +Athens, Madrid--how the mellifluous syllables thrilled her! One by +one, in her annual summer holiday, she and her mother might see them +all. Meantime she saw them all in her imagination, bathed in the light +that never was on sea or land, and it was not her mother with whom she +journeyed but a noble young Bayard, handsome and tender-hearted, who +had imperceptibly slipped into her mother's place. Poor Salvina, with +all her modesty, never saw herself as others saw her, never lost the +dream of a romantic love. Lazarus's rat-tat recalled her to reality. + +"I know I'm late," he said, with apologetic defiance, "but it's no +pleasure to sit in an empty house. _You_ may like it, but your tastes +were always peculiar, and that straw mattress on the floor isn't +inviting." + +"I am so sorry, dear. But then mother _must_ have the bed." + +"Well, it won't last long, thank Heaven. I made the Jonases consent to +the marriage before the scandal gets to them." + +"So soon!" said Salvina with unconscious social satire. + +"Yes, and we'll have our honeymoon travelling for Granders Brothers. +She's a good sort, is Rhoda, she doesn't mind gypsying. And that saves +us from the expense of completing the furniture." He paused, and +added awkwardly, "I'd lend it to you, only that might give us away." + +"But we don't need the furniture, dear, and don't you think they +_ought_ to know--it is the rest of the world that it _doesn't_ +concern." + +"They are bound to know after the marriage. We've kept it dark so far, +thanks to being in Hackney away from our old acquaintances and to +mother's stinginess in not having encouraged new people to drop in. +I've told the Jonases father was ill and might have to go away for his +health. That'll pave the way to his absence from the wedding. It +sounds quite grand. We'll send him to a German Spa." + +Salvina did not share her brother's respect for old Jonas, who bored +her with trite quotations from English literature or the Hebrew Bible. +He was in sooth a pompous ignoramus, acutely conscious of being an +intellectual light in an ignorant society; a green shade he wore over +his left eye added to his air of dignified distinction. Foreign Jews +in especial were his scorn, and he seriously imagined that his own +stereotyped phrases uttered with a good English pronunciation gave his +conversation an immeasurable superiority over the most original +thinking tainted by a German or Yiddish accent. Salvina's timid +corrections of his English quotations made him angry and imperilled +Lazarus's wooing. The young man was indeed the only member of the +family who cultivated relations with the Jonases, though now it would +be necessary to exchange perfunctory visits. Lazarus presided over +these visits in fear and trembling, glossing over any slips as to the +father, who was gone to the seaside for his health. On second +thoughts, Lazarus had not ventured on a German Spa. + + +VIII + +Ere the wedding-day arrived, Salvina had to go to the seaside. +Clacton-on-Sea was the somewhat plebeian place and the school-fete the +occasion. Salvina looked forward to it without much personal pleasure, +because of the responsibilities involved, but it was a break in the +pupil-teacher's monotonous round of teaching at the school and being +taught at the Centres; and in the actual expedition the children's joy +was contagious and made Salvina shed secret tears of sympathy. Arrived +at the beach of the stony, treeless, popular watering-place, most of +the happy little girls were instantly paddling in the surf with yells +of delight, while the tamer sort dug sand-pits and erected castles. +Salvina, whose office on this occasion was to assist an "assistant +teacher," had to keep her eye on a particular contingent. She sat down +on the noisy sunlit sands with her back to the sea-wall so as to sweep +the field of vision. Her nervous conscientiousness made her count her +sheep at frequent intervals, and be worried over missing now this +one, now that one. How her heart beat furiously and then almost +stopped, when she saw a child wading out too far. No, decidedly it was +a trying form of pleasure for the teacher. One bright little girl who +had never beheld the sea before picked up a wonderfully smooth white +pebble, and bringing it to Salvina asked if it was worth any money. +Salvina held it up, extemporizing an object lesson for the benefit of +the little bystanders. + +"No," she said, "this is not worth any money, because you can get +plenty of them without trouble, and even beautiful things are not +considered valuable if anybody can have them. This stone was polished +without charge by the action of the waves washing against it for +millions and millions of years, and if it--" + +The sudden blare of a brass band on the other side of the sea-wall +made her turn her head, and there, in a brand-new room of a brand-new +house on the glaring Promenade, a room radiating blatant prosperity +from its stony balcony, she perceived her father, in holiday attire, +and by his side a woman, buxom and yellow-haired. A hot wave of blood +seemed to flood Salvina up to the eyes. So there he was luxuriating in +the sun, rich and careless. All her homely instincts of work and duty +rose in burning contempt. And poor Mrs. Brill had to remain cooped at +home, drudging and wailing. For a second she felt she would like to +throw the stone at him, but her next feeling was pain lest the sight +of her should painfully embarrass him; and turning her face swiftly +seawards she went on, with scarce a pause perceptible to the little +girls, "If it gets worn away some more millions of years, it will be +ground down to sand, like all the other stones that were once here," +and as she spoke, she began to realize her own words, and a tragic +sense of her own insignificance in this eternal wash of space and time +seemed to reduce her to a grain of sand, and blow her about the great +spaces. But the mood passed away before a fresh upwelling of concrete +resentment against the self-pampered pair at the Promenade window. +Nevertheless, her feeling of how their seeming satisfaction would be +upset at the sight of her, made her carefully minimize the +contingency, and the dread of it hovered over the day, adding to the +worries over the children. But she vowed that her mother should be +revenged; she, too, poor wronged one, should wallow in Promenade +luxury in her future holidays; no more should she be housed in back +streets without sea-views. + +At night, after Mrs. Brill was in bed, Salvina could not resist saying +to Lazarus, whose supper she had been keeping hot for him: "How +strange! Father _is_ at the seaside." + +"The dickens!" He paused, fork in hand. "You saw him at +Clacton-on-Sea?" + +"Yes, but don't tell mother. So we didn't tell a lie after all. I'm so +glad." + +"Oh, go to blazes, you and your conscience. Where was he staying?" + +"In a house in the very centre of the Promenade; it's simply +shocking!" + +"Make me some fresh mustard, and don't moralize. Did you have a good +time?" + +"Not very; a little cripple-girl in my class went paddling, and +joking, and dropped her crutch, and it floated away--" + +"Bother your little cripple-girls. They always seem to be in your +class!" + +"Because my class is on the ground floor." + +"Ha! ha! ha! Just your luck. By the way," he became grave, "look what +a beastly letter from Kitty! Not coming to the wedding. I call it +awfully selfish of her." + +Kitty wrote her deep regrets, but her people had suddenly determined +to go abroad and she could not lose this chance of seeing the world; +"the governess's honeymoon," she christened it. Paris, Switzerland, +Rome,--all the magic places were to be hers,--and Salvina, reading the +letter, gasped with sympathy and longing. + +But the happy traveller was represented at the wedding by a large +bronze-looking knight on horseback, which towered in shining green +over the insignificant gifts of the Jonas's circle; the utilitarian +salad-bowls, and fish-slices, and dessert sets. One other present +stood out luridly, but only to Salvina. It was a glossy arm-chair, +and on the seat lay a card: "From Rhoda's loving father-in-law." When +Salvina first saw this--at a family card-party, the Sunday evening +before the wedding--she started and flushed so furiously that Lazarus +had to give her a warning nudge, and to whisper: "Only for +appearance." At the supper-table old Jonas, who carved and jested with +much appreciation of his own skill in both departments, referred +facetiously to the absent father, who might, nevertheless, be said to +be "in the chair" on that occasion. + +Salvina dressed her mother as carefully for the ceremony as though +Kitty's fears were being realized and Mrs. Brill was the bride of the +occasion; and so debonair a figure emerged from the ordeal that you +could recognize Kitty's mother instead of Salvina's. Lazarus had spent +his farewell evening of bachelorhood at an hotel, justly complaining +that a mirrorless bed-room with a straw mattress was no place for a +bridegroom to issue from. Never had bridegroom been so ill-treated, he +grumbled; and he shook his fist imaginatively at the father who had +despoiled him. + +But he joined his mother and sister in the cab; and as it approached +the synagogue, he said suddenly: "Don't be shocked--but I rather +expect father will be at the _Shool_ (synagogue)." + +"What!" and Mrs. Brill appeared like to faint. + +"He wouldn't have the cheek," Salvina said reassuringly, as she +pulled out the smelling-salts which Kitty had not needed. + +"He wouldn't have the cheek _not_ to come," said Lazarus. "I asked +him." + +"You!" They glared at him in horror. + +"Yes; I wasn't going to have things look funny--I hate explanations. +The Jonases thought there was something queer the other night, when +you both bungled the explanation of the rheumatism, spite all my +coaching." + +"But where did you find him?" said the mother excitedly. + +"At Clacton-on-Sea." + +Salvina bit her lip. + +"I sent in my card,--'Laurence Beryl, of Granders Brothers.' When he +saw me, I thought he would have had a fit. I told him if he didn't +come up to the wedding and play heavy father, I'd summons him--" + +"Summons him!" echoed Mrs. Brill. + +"For stealing my old arm-chair. I remembered--ha! ha! ha!--it was I +that had bought the easy-chair for myself, when we lived in +Spitalfields and had only wooden chairs." + +"So he _did_ send that easy-chair!" said Salvina. + +"Yes; that was rather clever of him. And don't you think it's clever +of me to save appearances?" + +"It'll be terrible for mother!" said Salvina hotly. "Didn't you think +of that?" + +"She won't have to talk to him. He'll only hang round. Nobody will +notice." + +"It would have been better to tell the truth," cried Salvina, "or even +a lie. This is only acting a lie. And it must be as painful for him as +for us." + +"Serve him right--the old furniture-sneak!" + +"It was a mistake," Salvina persisted. + +"Hush, hush, Salvina!" said Mrs. Brill. "Don't disturb your brother's +festival." + +"He has disturbed it himself," said Salvina, bursting into tears. "I +wish, mother, we had not come." + +"Here, here! This is a pretty wedding," said Lazarus. + +"Hush, Salvina, hush!" said Mrs. Brill. "What does it matter to us if +a dog creeps into synagogue?" + +At this point the cab stopped. + +"We're not there!" cried Mrs. Brill. + +"No," Lazarus explained; "but we pick up father here. We must appear +to arrive together." + +Ere the horrified pair could protest, he opened the door, sprang out, +and pushed inside a stout, rubicund man with a festal rose in his +holiday coat, but a miserable, shamefaced look in his eyes. Lazarus +took his seat ere a word could be spoken. The cab rolled on. + +"Good-morning, Esther," he muttered. "I offered you _Get_." + +"Silence!" cried Salvina, as if she had been talking to the little +girls. "How dare you speak to her?" She held her mother's hand and +felt the pulse beating madly. + +"You old serpent--" began Mrs. Brill hotly. + +"Mother!" pleaded Salvina; "not a word; he doesn't deserve it." + +"In Jerusalem I could have two wives," he muttered. But no one +replied. + +The four human beings sat in painful silence, their knees touching. +The culprit shot uneasy, surreptitious glances at his wife, so radiant +in jewels and finery and with so Kitty-like a complexion. It was as if +he saw her freshly, or as if he were shocked--even startled--by her +retaining so much joy of life despite his desertion of her. +Fortunately the strange drive only lasted a few minutes. The +bridegroom's wedding-party passed into the synagogue through an avenue +of sympathetic observers. + +Mr. Brill had no part to play in the ceremony. The honours were +carried off by Mr. Jonas, who stalked in slowly, with the bride on his +arm, and a new green shade over his left eye. The rival father hovered +meekly on the outskirts of the marriage-canopy amid a crowd of +Jonases. Salvina stationed herself and her mother on the opposite +border of the canopy, and throughout bristled, apprehensive, +prohibitive, fiery, like a spaniel guarding its mistress against a +bull-dog on the pounce. The bull-dog indeed was docile enough; +avoiding the spaniel's eye, and trailing a spiritless tail. But the +creature revived at the great wedding-feast in the hall of a hundred +covers, and under the congratulations and the convivial influences +tended to forget he was in disgrace. The bridegroom's parents were +placed together, but Salvina changed seats with her mother, and became +a buffer between the twain, a non-conducting medium through which the +father could not communicate with the mother. With the latter she +herself maintained a continuous conversation, and Mr. Brill soon found +it more pleasant to forget his troubles in the charms of Mrs. Jonas, +his other neighbour. + +After the almond-pudding, a succession of speakers ranging from +relatives to old friends, and even the officiating minister, gave +certificates of character to the bride and the bridegroom, amid the +tears of the ladies. Father Jonas made an elaborate speech beginning, +"Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking," and interlarded with Hebrew +quotations. Father Brill expressed the pleasure it gave him to +acknowledge on behalf of himself and his dear wife, the kind things +which had been said, and the delight they felt in seeing their son +settled in the paths of domestic happiness, especially in connection +with a scion of the house of Jonas, of whose virtues much had been +said so deservedly that night. Lazarus declared, amid roars of +laughter, that on this occasion only he would respond for his dear +wife, but he felt sure that for the rest of their lives she would have +the last word. Then the tables were cleared away and dancing began, +which grew livelier as the dawn grew nearer. But long before that, +Salvina had borne her mother away from the hovering bull-dog. Not, +however, without a terrible scene in the homeward cab. All the +volcanic flames Salvina and etiquette had suppressed during the day +shot forth luridly. Burning lava was hurled against her husband, +against her son, against Salvina. An impassioned inventory of the lost +furniture followed, and the refrain of the whole was that she had been +taken to a wedding, when all she wanted was a funeral. + + +IX + +Salvina did not count this break-down against her mother. It was the +natural revolt of nerves tried beyond endurance by Lazarus's trick. +The whole episode intensified her sense of the romantic situation of +her mother, and of the noble courage and dignity with which she +confronted it. She wondered whether she herself would have emerged so +stanchly from the ordeal of meeting a loved but faithless one, and her +protective pity was tempered by a new admiration. Her admiration +increased, when, as the secret gradually leaked out, her mother +maintained an attitude of defiance against the world's sympathy, +refused to hear stigmatizations of her husband, even from old Jonas, +reserving the privilege of denunciation for her own mouth and +Salvina's ear. + +And now began the new life of mother and daughter. With Kitty on the +Continent, Lazarus married, and the father blotted out, they had only +each other. They moved back to the skirts of the Ghetto, and Mrs. +Brill resumed with secret joy her old place among her old cronies. +Inwardly, she had fretted at the loss of them, for which the dignity +of Hackney had been but a shadowy compensation. But to Salvina she +only expressed her outraged pride, the humiliation of it all, and the +poor girl, unconscious of how happy her mother really was among the +Ghetto gossips, tortured her brain during school-hours with the +thought of her mother's lonely misery. And even if Salvina had not +been compelled to give private lessons in the evenings to supplement +their income, she would in any case have relinquished her Bachelorhood +aspirations in order to give her time to her mother. For Mrs. Brill +had no resources within herself, so far as Salvina knew. Even the +great artificial universe of books and newspapers was closed to her. +Salvina resolved to overcome her obstinate reluctance to learn to +read, as soon as the pressure of the other private lessons relaxed. +Meantime, she lived for her mother and her mother on her. + +Oh, the bitterness of those private lessons after the fag of the day; +the toiling to distant places on tired feet; the grinding bargains +imposed by the well-to-do! + +One of these fiends was a beautiful lady, haughty, with fair +complexion and frosted hair, and somehow suggested to Salvina a steel +engraving. She arranged graciously that Salvina should teach her +little girl conversational German at half-a-crown an hour, but when +Salvina started on the first lesson in the luxurious sanctum, she +found two sweetly dressed sisters; who, she was informed, could not +bear to be separated, and might therefore be considered one. The steel +engraving herself sat there, as if to superintend, occasionally asking +for the elucidation of a point. At the second lesson there were two +other little girls, neighbours, the lady informed her, who had thought +it would be a good opportunity for them to learn, too. Salvina +expressed her pleasure and her gratitude to her patroness. At the +third lesson the aunt of the two little girls was also present with a +suspicious air of discipleship. When at end of the month, Salvina +presented her bill at five shillings an hour, the patroness flew into +a towering rage. What did it matter to her how many children partook +of the hour? An hour was an hour and a bargain a bargain. Salvina had +not the courage or the capital to resist. And this life of ever +teaching and never learning went on, week after week, year after year. +For when her salary at the school increased, the additional burden of +Lazarus and his wife and children fell upon her. For her feckless +brother had soon exhausted the patience of Granders Brothers; he had +passed shiftlessly from employment to employment, frequently +dependent on Salvina and his father-in-law till old Jonas had +declared, with all the dignity of his green shade, that his +son-in-law--graceless offspring of a graceless sire--must never darken +his door-step again. + +But the joy Mrs. Brill found in her grandchildren, the filling-out of +her life, repaid Salvina amply for all the pinching necessary to +subsidize her brother's household. She winced, though, to see her +mother drop thoughtlessly into the glossy arm-chair presented by her +absentee husband, and therein ensconced dandle Lazarus's children. +Salvina was too sensitive to remind her mother, and shrank also from +appearing fantastic. But that chair inspired a morbid repugnance, and +one day, taking advantage of the fact that the stuffing began to +extrude, she bought Lazarus a new and better easy-chair without saying +why, and had the satisfaction of noting the relegation of the old one +to a bed-room. + +Two bright spots of colour dappled those long, monotonous years. One +was Kitty; the other was the summer holiday. Kitty's mere letters from +the Continent--she wrote twice during the tour--were a source of +exhilaration as well as of instruction. She brought nearer all those +wonderful places which Salvina still promised herself to behold one +day, though year after year she went steadily to Ramsgate. For her +mother shrank from sea-voyages and strange places, as much as she +loved the familiar beach swarming with Jewish faces and nigger +minstrels. Even Salvina's little scheme of enthroning her mother +expensively on the parade at Clacton-on-Sea, that mother unconsciously +thwarted, though she endured equivalent splendour at Ramsgate at three +guineas a week, with much grumbling over her daughter's extravagance. + +Once indeed when Salvina had seriously projected Paris in the interest +of her French, there had been a quarrel on the subject. There were +many quarrels on many subjects, but it was always one quarrel and had +always the same groundwork of dialogue on Mrs. Brill's part, whatever +the temporal variations. + +"A nice daughter! To trample under foot her own flesh and blood, +because she thinks I'm dependent on her! Well, well, do your own +marketing, you little ignoramus who don't know a skirt steak from a +loin chop; you'll soon see if I don't earn my keep. I earned my living +before you were born, and I can do so still. I'd rather live in one +room than have my blood shed a day longer. I'll send for Kitty--she +never stamps on the little mother. She shan't slave her heart out any +more among strangers, my poor fatherless Kitty. No, we'll live +together, Kitty and I. Lazarus would jump at us--my own dear, handsome +Lazarus. I never see him but he tells me how the children are crying +day and night for their granny, and why don't I go and live with him? +_He_ wouldn't spit upon the mother who suckled him, and even Rhoda +has more respect for me than my own real daughter." + +Such was the basal theme; the particular variation, when the holiday +was concerned, took the shape of religious remonstrance. "And where am +I to get _kosher_ food in Paris? In Ramsgate I enjoy myself; there's a +_kosher_ butcher, and all the people I know. It's as good as London." + +Tears always conquered Salvina. She had an infinite patience with her +mother on these occasions, not resenting the basal theme, but +regarding it as a mere mechanic explosion of nervous irritation, +generated by her lonely life. Sometimes she forgot this and argued, +but was always the more sorry afterward. Not that she did not enjoy +Ramsgate. Her nature that craved for so much and was content with so +little found even Ramsgate a Paradise after a year of the slum-school, +to which she always returned looking almost healthy. But this constant +absorption in her mother's personality narrowed her almost to the same +mental bookless horizon. All the red blood of ambition was sucked away +as by a vampire; her energy was sapped and the unchanging rut of +school-existence combined to fray away her individuality. She never +went into any society; the rare invitation to a social event was +always refused with heart-shrinking. Every year made her more shy and +ungainly, more bent in on herself, and on the little round of school +and home life, which left her indeed too weary in brain and body for +aught beside. She sank into the scholastic old maid, unconsciously +taking on the very gait and accent of Miss Rolver, into the +limitations of whose life she had once had a flash of insight. Yet she +was unaware of her decay; her automatic brain was still alive in one +corner, where the dreams hived and nested. Paris and Rome and the +wonder-places still shone on the horizon, together with the noble +young Bayard, handsome and tender-hearted. And twice or thrice a year +Kitty would flash upon the scene to remind her that there was truly a +world of elegance and adventure. Her mother had begun to worry over +the beautiful Kitty's failure to marry; she had imagined that in those +gilded regions she would have snapped up a South African millionaire +or other ingenuous person. How nearly Kitty had actually come to doing +so, even without the spring-board of Bedford Square, Salvina never +told her. She had kept both Sugarman and Moss M. Rosenstein from +pestering her mother, by telling the Shadchan that Kitty's voice and +Kitty's alone weighed with Kitty in such a matter. When the swarthy +capitalist returned to the Cape, despairing, Salvina had written to +congratulate her sister on her high-mindedness. In the years that +followed, she had to endure many a bad quarter of an hour of maternal +reproach because Kitty did not marry, but Mrs. Brill's vengeance was +unconscious. Kitty herself never heard a word of these complaints; to +her the mother was all wreathed smiles, for she never came without +bringing a trinket, and every one of these trinkets meant days of +happiness. The little lockets and brooches were shown about to all the +neighbours and hitched them on to the bright spheres which Kitty +adorned. Carriages and footmen, soft carpets and gilded mirrors +gleamed in the air. "My Kitty!" rolled under Mrs. Brill's tongue like +a honeyed sweet. Kitty's little gifts, flashing splendidly on the +everyday dulness, made more impression than all the steady monotonous +services of Salvina. For the rest, Salvina conscientiously repaid +these gifts in kind on Kitty's birthdays and other high days. + + +X + +When Salvina was twenty-three years old a change came. Lazarus ceased +to demand assistance: he was cheery and self-confident, and inclined +to chaff Salvina on her prim ways. He removed to a larger house and +her easy-chair disappeared before a more elegant. And the apparent +brightness of her brother's prospects brightened Salvina's. Her +savings increased, and, under the continuous profit of his +self-support, she was soon able to meditate changes on her own +account. Either she would give up her night-teaching--which had been +more and more undermining her system--or she would procure her mother +and Kitty a delightful surprise by migrating back to Hackney. + +Her mind hesitated between the joyous alternatives, lingering +voluptuously now on one, now on the other, but somehow aware that it +would ultimately choose the latter, for Kitty on her rare visits never +failed to grumble at the lowness of the neighbourhood and the expense +of cabs, and Mrs. Brill still yearned to see horses pawing outside her +door-step. But an unexpected visit from Kitty, not six weeks after her +last, and equally unexpected in place--for it was at Salvina's +school--decided the matter suddenly. + +It was about half-past twelve, and Salvina, long since a full +"assistant teacher," was seated at her desk, correcting the German +exercises of a private pupil. Sparsely dotted about the symmetric +benches were a few demure criminals undergoing the punishment of being +kept in, and the air was still heavy with the breaths and odours of +the blissful departed. A severe museum-case, with neatly ticketed +specimens, backed Salvina's chair, and around the spacious room hung +coloured diagrams of animals and plants. Kitty seemed a specimen from +another world as her coquettish Leghorn hat flowering with poppies +burst upon the scholastic scene. + +"Oh, dear, I thought you'd be alone," she said pettishly. + +"Is it anything important? The children don't matter," said Salvina. +"You can tell me in German. I do hope nothing is the matter." + +"No, nothing so alarming as that," Kitty replied in German. "But I +thought I'd find you alone and have a chat." + +"I had to stay here with the children. They must be punished." + +"Seems more like punishing yourself. But have you lunched, then?" + +"No." Salvina flushed slightly. + +"No? What's up? A Jewish fast! Ninth day of Ab, fall of Temple, and +funny things like that. One always seems to stumble upon them in the +East End." + +"How you do rattle on, Kitty!" and Salvina smiled. "No, I shall lunch +as soon as these children are released." + +"But why wait for that?" + +Salvina's blush deepened. "Well, one doesn't want to eat a good dinner +before hungry girls." + +"A good dinner! Why, what in heaven's name do you get? Truffles and +plovers' eggs?" + +"No, but I get a very good meal sent in from the Cooking Centre +opposite, and compared with what these girls get at home, steak and +potatoes are the luxuries of Lucullus." + +"Oh, I don't believe it. They all look fatter than you. Then this is +double punishment for you--extra work and hunger. Do send them away. +They get on my nerves. And have your lunch like a sensible being." +And without waiting for Salvina's assent: "Go along, girls," she said +airily. + +The girls hesitated and looked at Salvina, who coloured afresh, but +said, "Yes, this lady pleads for you, and I said that if you all +promised to--" + +"Oh, yes, teacher," they interrupted enthusiastically, and were off. + +"Well, what I came to tell you, Sally, is that I'm not sure of my +place much longer." + +Salvina turned pale, and that much-tried heart of hers thumped like a +hammer. She waited in silence for the facts. + +"Lily is going to be married." + +"Well? All the more reason for Mabel to have a companion." + +Kitty shook her head. "It's the beginning of the end. Marriage is a +contagious complaint in a family. First one member is taken off, then +another. But that's not the worst." + +"No?" Poor Salvina held her breath. + +"Who do you think is the happy man? You'll never guess." + +"How should I? I don't know their circle." + +"Yes, you do. I mean, you know him." + +Salvina wrinkled her forehead vainly. + +"No, you'll never guess after all these years! Moss M. Rosenstein!" + +"Is it possible?" Salvina gasped. "Lily Samuelson!" + +"Yes--Lily Samuelson!" + +"But he must be an old man by now." + +"Well, _she_ isn't a chicken. And you thought it was such an outrage +of him to ask for _me_. I suppose having once got inside the door to +see me, he had the idea of aspiring higher." + +"Oh, don't say higher, Kitty. Richer, that's all--and now, I should +say, lower, inasmuch as Lily Samuelson stoops to pick up what you +passed by with scorn. And picks him up out of Sugarman's hand, +probably." + +"Yes, it's all very well, and it's revenge enough in a way to think to +myself what I do think to myself, when I see the young couple going +on, and Moss is mortally scared of me, as I shoot him a glare, now and +again. I shouldn't be surprised if he eggs them on to get rid of me. +It would be too bad to be done out of everything." + +"Well, we must hope for the best," said Salvina, kissing her. "After +all, you can always get another place." + +"I'm getting old," Kitty said glumly. + +"You old!" and the anaemic little school-mistress looked with laughing +admiration at her sister's untarnished radiance. But when Kitty went, +and lunch came, Salvina could not eat it. + + +XI + +It was clear, however, that of the alternatives--giving up the +night-work or returning to Hackney--the latter was the one favoured by +Providence. Kitty might at any moment return to the parental roof, and +there must be something, that Kitty would consider a roof, to shelter +her. + +On Saturday Salvina went house-hunting alone in Hackney, and there--as +if further pointed out by Providence--stood their old house "To let!" +It had a dilapidated air, as if it had stood empty for many moons and +had lost hope. It seemed to her symbolic of her mother's fortunes, and +her imagination leapt at the idea of recuperating both. Very soon she +had re-rented the house, though from another landlord, and the workmen +were in possession, making everything bright and beautiful. Salvina +chose wall-papers of the exact pattern of aforetime, and ordered the +painting and decorations to repeat the old effects. They were to move +in, a few days before the quarter. + +Her happy secret shone in her cheeks, and she felt all bright and +refreshed, as if she, too, were being painted and cleaned and +redecorated. The task of keeping it all from her mother was a great +daily strain, and the secret had to overbrim for the edification of +Lazarus. Lazarus hailed the change with expressions of unselfish joy, +that brought tears into Salvina's eyes. He even went with her to see +how the repairs were getting on, chatted with the workmen, disapproved +of the landlord's stinginess in not putting down new drain pipes, and +made a special call upon that gentleman. + +One day on her return from school Salvina found a postcard to the +effect that the house was ready for occupation. Salvina was for once +glad that she had never yet found time to persuade her mother to learn +to read. She went to feast her eyes on the new-old house and came home +with the key, which she hid carefully till the Sunday afternoon, when +she induced her mother to make an excursion to Victoria Park. The +weather was dull, and the old woman needed a deal of coaxing, +especially as the coaxing must be so subtle as not to arouse +suspicion. + +On the way back in the evening from the Park, which, as there was an +unexpected band playing popular airs, her mother enjoyed, Salvina led +her by the old familiar highways and byways back to the old home, +keeping her engrossed in conversation lest it should suddenly befall +her to ask why they were going that way. The expedient was even more +successful than she had bargained for, Mrs. Brill's sub-consciousness +calmly accepting all the old unchanged streets and sights and sounds, +while her central consciousness was absorbed by the talk. Her legs +trod automatically the dingy Hackney Terrace to which she had so often +returned from her Park outing, her hand pushed open mechanically the +old garden-gate, and as Salvina, breathlessly wondering if the spell +could be kept up till the very last, opened the door with the +latch-key, her mother sank wearily, and with a sigh of satisfaction, +upon the accustomed hall-chair. In that instant of maternal apathy, +the astonishment was wholly Salvina's. That hall-chair on which her +mother sat was the very one which had stood there in the bygone happy +years; the hat-rack was the one with which her father had "eloped"; on +it stood the little flower-pots and on the wall hung the two +engravings of the trials of Lord William Russell and Earl Stafford +exactly in the same place, and facing her stood the open parlour with +all the old furniture and colour. In that uncanny instant Salvina +wondered if she had passed through years of hallucination. There was +her mother, natural and unconcerned, bonneted and jewelled, exactly as +she had come from Camberwell years ago when they had entered the house +together. Perhaps they were still at that moment; she knew from her +studies as well as from experience that you can dream years of +harassing and multiplex experience in a single second. Perhaps there +had been no waking hallucination; perhaps the long waiting for her +mother to appear with the house-key had made her sleepy, and in that +instant of doze she had dreamed all those horrible things--the empty +house, her father's flight, his reappearance at her brother's +marriage; the long years of evening lessons. Perhaps she was still +seventeen, studying the Greek verbs for the Bachelorhood of Arts, +perhaps her mother was still a happy wife. Her eyes filled with tears, +and she let herself dwell upon the wondrous possibility a second or so +longer than she believed in it. For the smell of new paint was too +potent; it routed the persuasions of the old furniture. And in another +instant it had penetrated through Mrs. Brill's fatigue. She started +up, aware of something subtly wrong, ere clearer consciousness dawned. + +"Michael!" she shrieked, groping. + +"Hush, hush, mother!" said Salvina, with a pain as of swords at her +heart. She felt her mother had stumbled--with whatever significance--upon +the word of the enigma. "Another trick has been played on us." + +"A trick!" Mrs. Brill groped further. "But _you_ brought me. How comes +this house here? What has happened?" + +"I wanted to surprise you. I have rented the old house, and some one +else has put in the old furniture." + +"Michael is coming back! You and your father have plotted." + +"Oh, mother! How can you accuse me of such a thing!" All the expected +joy of the surprise had been changed to anguish, she felt, both for +her and for her mother. Oh, what a fatal mistake! "I won't have the +furniture, we'll pitch it into the street--we are going to live here +together, mammy, you and I, in the old home. We can afford it now." + +She laid her cheek to her mother's, but Mrs. Brill broke away +petulantly and ran toward the parlour. "And does he think I'll have +anything to do with him after all these years!" she cried. + +"Dear mother, he doesn't know you if he thinks that!" said Salvina, +following her. + +"No, indeed! And a chip out of my best vase, just as I thought! And +that isn't my chair--he's shoved me in one of a worse set. The +horsehair may seem the same, but look at the legs--no carving at all. +And where's the extra leaf of the table? Gone, too, I daresay. And my +little gilt shovel that used to stand in the fender here, what's +become of that? And do you call this a sofa? with the castors all off! +Oh, my God, she has ruined all my furniture," and she burst into +hysteric tears. + +Salvina could do nothing till the torrent had spent itself. But she +was busy, thinking. She saw that again her brother and her father had +conspired together. Hence Lazarus's officiousness toward the landlord +and the workmen--that he might easily get the entry to the house. But +perhaps the conspiracy had not the significance her mother put upon +it. Perhaps Lazarus was principal, not agent; in the flush of his new +prosperity he had really projected a generous act; perhaps he had +resolved to put the coping-stone on the surprise Salvina was preparing +for her mother, and had hence negotiated with the father for the old +things. If so, she felt she had not the right to make her mother +refuse them; the rather, she must hasten at once to Lazarus to pour +out her appreciation of his thoughtfulness. + +"Come along, mother," she said at last, "don't sit there, crying. I +think Lazarus must have bought back the things for you. You see, +mammy, I wanted to give you a little surprise, and dear Lazarus has +given _me_ a little surprise." + +"Do you really think it's only Lazarus?" asked Mrs. Brill, and to +Salvina's anxious ear there seemed a shade of disappointment in the +tone. + +"I'm sure it is--father couldn't possibly have the impudence. After +all these years, too!" + +But when she at last got her mother to Lazarus, that gentleman +confessed aggressively that he had been only the agent. + +"I don't see why you shouldn't let the poor old man come back," he +said. "The other person died a year ago, only nobody liked to tell +mother, she was so bristly and snappy." + +"Ah," interrupted Mrs. Brill exultantly, "then Heaven has heard my +curses. May she burn in the lowest Gehenna. May her body become one +yellow flame like her dyed hair." + +"Hush!" said Salvina sternly. "God shall judge the dead." + +"Oh, of course you always take everybody's part against your mother." +And Mrs. Brill burst into tears again and sank into the new +easy-chair. + +"I do think mother's right," said Lazarus sullenly. "Why do you stand +in her way?" + +"I?" Salvina was paralyzed. + +"Yes, if it wasn't for you--" + +"Mother, do you hear what Lazarus is saying? That I keep you from +father!" + +"Father! A pretty father to you! He waits till she's dead, and then he +wants to creep back to us. But let him lie on her grave. He'll swell +to bursting before he crosses my door-step." + +"There, Lazarus, do you hear?" + +"Yes, I hear," he said incredulously. "But does she know what father +offers her--every comfort, every luxury? He is rich now." + +"Rich?" said Mrs. Brill. "The old swindler!" + +"He didn't swindle--he's very sorry for the past now, and awfully kind +and generous." + +Salvina had a flash of insight. "Ho! So this is why--" She checked +herself and looked round the handsome room, and the new easy-chair in +which her mother sat became suddenly as hateful as the old. + +"Well, suppose it is?" said Lazarus defiantly. "I don't see why we +shouldn't share in his luck." + +"And where does the luck come from?" Salvina demanded. + +"What's that to do with us? From the Stock Exchange, I believe." + +"And where did he get the money to gamble with?" + +"Oh, they always had money." + +Salvina's eyes blazed. The nerveless creature of the school became a +fury. "And you'd touch that!" + +"Hang it all, he owes us reparation. You, too, Salvina--he is anxious +to do everything for you. He says you must chuck up school--it's +simply wearing you away. He says he wants to take you abroad--to +Paris." + +"Oh, and so he thinks he'll get round mother by getting round me, does +he? But let him take his furniture away at once, or we'll pitch it +into the street. At once, do you hear?" + +"He won't mind." Lazarus smiled irritatingly. "He wants to put better +furniture in, and his real desire is to move to a big house in +Highbury New Park. But I persuaded him to put back the old +furniture--I thought it would touch you--a token, you know, that he +wanted 'auld lang syne.'" + +"Yes, yes, I understood," said Salvina, and then she thought suddenly +of Kitty and a burst of hysteric laughter caught her. "Elopements +economically conducted," went through her mind. "By the day or hour!" +And she imagined the new phrases Kitty would coin. "The Prodigal +Father and the Pantechnicon"--"The old Love and the old Furniture," +and the wild laughter rang on, till Lazarus was quite disconcerted. + +"I don't see where the fun comes in," he said wrathfully. "Father is +very sorry, indeed he is. He quite cried to me--on that very chair +where mother is sitting. I swear to you he did. And you have the heart +to laugh!" + +"Would you have me cry, too? No, no; I am glad he is punished." + +"Yes--a nice miserable lonely old age he has before him." + +"He has plenty of money." + +"You're a cold, unfeeling minx! I don't envy the man who marries you, +Salvina." + +Salvina flushed. "I don't, either--if he were to treat me as mother +has been treated." + +"Yes, no one has had a life like mine, since the world began," moaned +Mrs. Brill, and her waning tears returned in full flood. + +"My poor mammy," and Salvina put a handkerchief to the flooded cheeks. +"Come home, we have had enough of this." + +Mrs. Brill rose obediently. + +"Oh, yes, take her home," said Lazarus savagely, "take her to your +shabby, stinking lodging, when she might have a house in Highbury New +Park and three servants." + +"She has a house at Hackney, and I'll give her a servant, too. Come, +mother." + +Salvina mopped up her mother's remaining tears, and with an +inspiration of arrogant independence, she rang for Lazarus's servant +and bade her hail a hansom cab. + +"If you don't want all Hackney to come and gaze at a furnished road," +she said, in parting, "you'll take away that furniture yourself." + +Mrs. Brill bowled homeward, half consoled for everything by this +charioted magnificence. Some neighbours stood by gossiping as she +alighted, and then her unspoken satisfaction was complete. + + +XII + +They moved into the new-old house, after Salvina had carefully +ascertained that the furniture had returned to the cloud under which +it had so long lived. In her resentment against its reappearance, she +spent more than she could afford on the rival furniture that succeeded +it, and which she now studied to make unlike it, so that quite without +any touch of conscious taste, it became light, elegant, and even +artistic in comparison with the old horsehair massiveness. + +Then began a very bad year for Salvina, even though the Damocles sword +of Kitty's dismissal never fell, and Lily's migration to the Cape with +Moss M. Rosenstein left Kitty still in power as companion to Mabel, to +judge at least by Kitty's not seeking the parental roof, even as +visitor. Mrs. Brill's happiness did not keep pace with the restored +grandeurs and Salvina's own spurt of hope died down. She grew wanner +than ever, going listlessly to her work and returning limp and fagged +out. + +"You mew me up here with not a soul to speak to from morning till +night," her mother burst forth one day. + +Salvina was not sorry to have her mother's silent lachrymosity thus +interpreted. But she regretted that her helpless parent had not +expressed her satisfaction with gossip when the Ghetto provided it, +instead of yearning for higher scenes. She tried again to persuade +Mrs. Brill to learn to read by way of mental resource, and Mrs. Brill +indeed made some spasmodic efforts to master the alphabet and the +vagaries of pronunciation from an infant's primer. But her brain was +too set; and she forgot from word to word, and made bold bad guesses, +so that even when "a fat cat sat on a mat" she was capable of making a +fat cow eat in a mug. She struggled loyally though, except when +Salvina's attention relaxed for an instant, and then she would proceed +by leaps and bounds, like a cheating child with the teacher's eye off +it, getting over five lines in the time she usually took to spell out +one, and paradoxically pleased with herself at her rapid progress. + +Salvina was in despair. There is no creche for mothers, or she might +have sent Mrs. Brill to one. She bethought herself of at last laying +on a servant, as providing the desired combination of grandeur and +gossip. To pay for the servant she undertook two hours of extra +night-teaching. But the maid-of all-work proved only an exhaustless +ground for grumbling. Mrs. Brill had never owned a servant, and the +girl's deviation from angelhood of character and unerring perfection +of action in every domestic department were a constant disappointment +and grief to the new mistress. + +"A nice thing you have done for me," she wept to Salvina, having +carefully ascertained the servant was out of ear-shot, "to seat a +mistress on my head--and for that I must pay her into the bargain." + +"Aren't you glad you haven't got three servants?" said Salvina, with a +touch of irresistible irony. + +"Don't throw up to me that you're saving me from falling on your +father. I can be my own bread-winner. I don't want your doll's house +furniture that one is scared to touch--like walking among eggshells. +I'd rather live in one room and scrub floors than be beholden to +anybody. Then I should be my own mistress, and not under a daughter's +thumb. If only Kitty would marry, then I could go to _her_. Why +doesn't she marry? It isn't as if she were like you. Is there a +prettier girl in the whole congregation? It's because she's got no +money, my poor, hardworking little Kitty. Her father would give her a +dowry, if he were a man, not a pig." + +"Mother!" Salvina was white and trembling. "How can you dream of +that?" + +"Not for myself. I'd see him rot before I'd take a farthing of his +money. But I'm not domineering and spiteful like you. I don't stand in +the way of other people benefiting. The money will only go to some +other vermin. Kitty may as well have some." + +"Lazarus has some. That's enough, and more than enough." + +"Lazarus deserves it--he is a better son to me than you are a +daughter!" and the tears fell again. + +Salvina cast about for what to do. Her mother's nerves were no doubt +entirely disorganized by her sufferings and by the shock of Lazarus's +trick. Some radical medicine must be applied. But every day Duty took +Salvina to school and harassed her there and drove her to private +lessons afterward, and left her neither the energy nor the brain for +further innovations. And whenever she met Lazarus by accident--for she +was too outraged to visit a house practically kept up by dishonourable +money, apart from her objection to its perpetually festive atmosphere +of solo-whist supper-parties--he would sneer at her high and mighty +airs in casting out the furniture. "Oh, we're very grand now, we keep +a servant; we have cut our father off with a shilling." + +She wished her mother would not go to see Lazarus, but she felt she +had not the right to interfere with these visits, though Mrs. Brill +returned from them, fretful and restive. Evidently Lazarus must be +still insinuating reconciliation. + +"Lazarus worries you, mother, I feel sure," she ventured to say once. + +"Oh, no, he is a good son. He wants me to live with him." + +"What! On _her_ money!" + +"It isn't her money--your father made it on the Stock Exchange." + +"Who told you so?" + +"Didn't you hear Lazarus say so yourself?" + +Then a horrible suspicion came to Salvina. "He doesn't set father at +you when you go there?" she cried. + +Mrs. Brill flushed furiously. "I'd like to see him try it on," she +murmured. + +Salvina stooped to kiss her. "But he tells you tales of father's +riches, I suppose." + +"Who wants his riches? If he offered me my own horse and carriage, I +wouldn't be seen with him after the disgrace he's put upon me." + +"I wish, mother, Lazarus had inherited your sense of honour." + +Mrs. Brill was pleased. "There isn't a woman in the world with more +pride! Your father made a mistake when he began with me!" + + +XIII + +A horse and carriage did come, one flamboyant afternoon, but it was +the Samuelsons', and brought the long-absent Kitty. And Kitty as usual +brought a present. This time it was a bracelet, and Mrs. Brill clasped +and unclasped it ecstatically, feeling that she had at least one +daughter who loved her and did not domineer. Salvina was at school, +and Mrs. Brill took Kitty all over the house, enjoying her approval, +and accepting all the praise for the lighter and more artistic +furniture. She told her of the episode of the return of the old +furniture--"And didn't have the decency to put new castors on the sofa +she had sprawled on!" + +Kitty's laughter was as loud and ringing as Salvina had anticipated; +Mrs. Brill coloured under it, as though _she_ were found food for +laughter. "What a ridiculous person he is!" Kitty added hastily. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Brill with eager pride and relief. "He thought he +could coax me back like a dog with a bit of sugar." + +"It would be too funny to live with him again." And Kitty's eyes +danced. + +"Do you think so?" said Mrs. Brill anxiously. And under the sunshine +of her daughter's approval she confided to her that he had really +turned up twice at Lazarus's, beautifully costumed, with diamonds on +his fingers and a white flower in his button-hole, but that she had +repulsed him as she would repulse a drunken heathen. He had put his +arms round her, but she had shaken him off as one shakes off a black +beetle. + +Kitty turned away and stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth. She +knew there was a tragic side, but the comic aspect affected her more. + +"Then you think I was right?" Mrs. Brill wound up. + +"Of course," Kitty said soothingly. "What do you want of him?" + +"But don't tell Salvina, or she'd eat my head off." And then, the +eager upleaping fountain of her mother's egoistic babblings beginning +at last to trickle thinly, Kitty found a breathing-space in which to +inform her of the great news that throbbed in her own breast. + +"Lily Samuelson's dead! Mrs. Rosenstein, you know!" + +"Oh, my God!" ejaculated Mrs. Brill, trembling like a leaf. Nothing +upset her more than to find that persons within her ken could actually +die. + +"Yes, we had a cable from the Cape yesterday." + +"Hear, O Israel! Let me see--yes, she must have died in child-birth." + +"She did--the house is all in hysterics. I couldn't stand it any +longer. I ordered the carriage and came here." + +"My poor Kitty! That Lily was too old to have a baby. And now he will +marry Mabel." + +"Oh, no, mother." + +"Oh, yes, he will. Mabel will jump at him, you'll see." + +"But it isn't legal--you can't marry your deceased wife's sister." + +"I know you can't in England--what foolishness! But they'll go to +Holland to be married." + +"Don't be so absurd, mother." + +"Absurd!" Mrs. Brill glared. "You mark my words. They'll be in Holland +before the year's out, like Hyam Emanuel's eldest brother-in-law and +the red-haired sister of Samuel, the pawnbroker." + +"Well, I don't care if they are," said Kitty, yawning. + +"Don't care! Why, you'll lose your place. They kept you on for Mabel, +but now--" + +Kitty cut her short. "Don't worry, mother. I'll be all right. He's not +married Mabel yet." + +This reminder seemed to come to Mrs. Brill like a revelation, so fast +had her imagination worked. She calmed down and Kitty took the +opportunity to seek to escape. "Tell Salvina the news," she said. +"She'll be specially interested in it. In fact, judging by the last +time, she'll be more excited than I am," and she smiled somewhat +mysteriously. "Tell her I'm sorry I missed her--I was hoping to find +her having a holiday, but apparently I haven't been lucky enough to +strike some Jewish fast." + +But partly because Mrs. Brill was enraptured by her beautiful +daughter, partly to keep the pompous equipage outside her door as long +as possible, she detained Kitty so unconscionably that Salvina arrived +from school. Kitty flew to embrace her as usual, but arrested herself, +shocked. + +"Why, Sally!" she cried. "You look like a ghost! What's the matter?" + +"Nothing," said Salvina with a wan smile. "Just the excitement of +seeing you, I suppose." + +Kitty performed the postponed embrace but remained dubious and shaken. +Was it that her mind was morbidly filled with funereal images, or was +it that her fresh eye had seen what her mother's custom-blinded vision +had missed--that there was death in Salvina's face? + +This face of death-in-life stirred up unwonted emotions in Kitty and +made her refrain apprehensively from speaking again of Lily's death; +and some days later, when the first bustle of grief had subsided in +Bedford Square, Kitty, still haunted by that grewsome vision, wrote +Salvina a letter. + + "MY DEAR OLD SALLY,--You must really draw in your horns. You + were not looking at all well the other day. You are burning the + candle at both ends, I am sure. That horrid Board School is + killing you. I am going to beg a fortnight's holiday for you, + and I am going to take you to Boulogne for a week, and then, + when you are all braced up again, we can have the second week at + Paris." + + "MY DEAREST AND BEST OF SISTERS," [Salvina replied,] "How + shocking the news mother has told me of the death of poor Lily! + If she did wrong she was speedily punished. But let us hope she + really loved him. I am sure that your brooding on her sad fate + and your sympathy with the family in this terrible affliction + has made you fancy all sorts of things about me, just as mother + is morbidly apprehensive of that horrible creature marrying + Mabel and thus robbing you of your place. But your sweet letter + did me more good than if I had really gone to Paris. How did you + know it was the dream of my life? But it cannot be realized just + yet, for it would be impossible for me to be spared from school + just now. Miss Green is away with diphtheria, and as this is + examination time, Miss Rolver has her hands full. Besides, + mother would be left alone. Don't worry about me, darling. I + always feel like this about this time of year, but the summer + holiday is not many weeks off and Ramsgate always sets me up + again. + + "Your loving sister, + "SALVINA. + + "P.S. Mother told me you advised her not to go to Lazarus's any + more, and she isn't going. I am so glad, dear. These visits have + worried her, as Lazarus is so persistent. I am only sorry I + didn't think of enlisting your influence before--it is naturally + greater than mine. Good-bye, dear. + + "P.P.S. I find I have actually forgotten to thank you for your + generous offer. But you know all that is in my heart, don't you, + darling?" + +All the same Kitty's alarm began to communicate itself to Salvina, +especially after repeated if transient premonitions of fainting in her +class-room. For what would happen if she really fell ill? She could +get sick leave of course for a time; though that would bring her under +the eagle eye of the Board Doctor, before which every teacher quailed. +He might brutally pronounce her unfit for service. And how if she did +break down permanently? Or if she died! Her savings were practically +nil; her salary ceased with her breath. Who would support her mother? +Kitty of course would nobly take up the burden, but it would be +terribly hard on her, especially when Mabel Samuelson should come to +marry. Not that she was going to die, of course; she was too used to +being sickly. Death was only a shadow, hovering far off. + + +XIV + +What was to be done? An inspiration came to her in the shape of a +pamphlet. Life Assurance! Ah, that was it. Scottish Widows' Fund! How +peculiarly apposite the title. If her mother could be guaranteed a +couple of thousand pounds, Death would lose its sting. Salvina +carefully worked out all the arithmetical points involved, and +discovered to her surprise that life assurance was a form of gambling. +The Company wagered her that she would live to a certain age, and she +wagered that she would not. But after a world of trouble in filling up +documents and getting endorsers, when she went before the Company's +Doctor she was refused. The bet was not good enough. "Heart weak," was +the ruthless indictment. "You ought not to teach," the Doctor even +told her privately, and amid all her consternation Salvina was afraid +lest by some mysterious brotherhood he should communicate with the +Board Doctor and rob her of her situation. She began praying to God +extemporaneously, in English. That was, for her, an index of +impotence. She was at the end of her resources. She could see only a +blank wall, and the wall was a great gravestone on which was +chiselled: "_Hic jacet_, Salvina Brill, School Board Teacher, +Undergraduate of London University. Unloved and unhappy." + +She wept over the inscription, being still romantic. Poor mother, poor +Kitty, what a blow her death would be to them! Even Lazarus would be +sorry. And in the thought of them she drifted away from the rare mood +of self-pity and wondered again how she could get together enough +money before she died to secure her mother's future. But no suggestion +came even in answer to prayer. Once she thought of the Stock Exchange, +but it seemed to her vaguely wicked to conjure with stocks and shares. +She had read articles against it. Besides, what did she understand? +True, she understood as much as her father. But who knew whether his +money really came from this source? She dismissed the Stock Exchange +despairingly. + +And meanwhile Mrs. Brill continued peevish and lachrymose, and Salvina +found it more and more difficult to hide her own melancholy. One day, +as she was leaving the school-premises, Sugarman the Shadchan +accosted her. "Do make a beginning," he said winningly. "Only a +sixteenth of a ticket. You can't lose." + +Sugarman still never thought of her even as a refuge for impecunious +bachelors, but with that shameless pertinacity which was the secret of +his success, both as British marriage-maker and continental lottery +agent, he had never ceased cajoling her toward his other net. He was +now destined to a success which surprised even himself. Her scrupulous +conscientiousness undermined by her analysis of the Assurance System, +Salvina inquired eagerly as to the prizes, and bought three whole +tickets at a quarter of the price of one Assurance instalment. + +Sugarman made a careful note of the numbers, and so did Salvina. But +it was unnecessary in her case. They were printed on her brain, graven +on her heart, repeated in her prayers; they hovered luminous across +her day-dreams, and if they distracted feverishly her dreams of the +night, yet they tinged the school-routine pleasantly and made her +mother's fretfulness endurable. They actually improved her health, and +as the May sunshine warmed the earth, Salvina felt herself bourgeoning +afresh, and she told herself her fears were morbid. + +Nevertheless there was one thing she was resolved to complete, in case +she were truly doomed, and that was her mother's education in reading, +so often begun, so often foiled by her mother's pertinacious +subsidence into contented ignorance. Of what use even to assure Mrs. +Brill's physical future, if her mind were to be left a pauper, +dependent on others? How, without the magic resource of books, could +she get through the long years of age, when decrepitude might confine +her to the chimney-corner? Already her talk groaned with aches and +pains. + +Since the servant had been installed, the reading lessons had dropped +off and finally been discontinued. Now that Salvina persisted in +continuing, she found that her mother's brain had retained nothing. +Mrs. Brill had to begin again at the alphabet, and all the old routine +of audacious guessing recommenced. Again a fat cow ate in a mug, for +though Mrs. Brill had no head at all for corrections, she had a +wonderful memory for her own mistakes, and took the whole sentence at +a confident jump. It was an old friend. + +One evening, in the kitchen to which Mrs. Brill always gravitated when +the servant was away, she paused between her misreadings to dilate on +the inconsiderateness of the servant in having this day out, though +she was paid for the full week, and though the mistress had to stick +at home and do all the work. As Salvina seemed to be spiritless this +evening, and allowed the domestic to go undefended, this topic was +worn out more quickly than usual, but the never failing subject of +Mrs. Brill's aches and pains provided more pretexts for dodging the +hard words. And meantime in a chair beside hers, poor Salvina, silent +as to her own aches and pains, and the faintness which was coming over +her, strained her attention to follow in correction on the heels of +her mother's reading; but do what she would, she could not keep her +eyes continuously on the little primer, and whenever Mrs. Brill became +aware that Salvina's attention had relaxed, she scampered along at a +breakneck speed, taking trisyllables as unhesitatingly as a hunter a +three-barred gate. But every now and again Salvina would struggle back +into concentration, and Mrs. Brill would tumble at the first ditch. + +At last, Mrs. Brill, to her content, found herself cantering along, +unimpeded, for a great stretch. Salvina lay back in her chair, dead. + +"The broken dancer only merry danger," read Mrs. Brill, at a joyous +gallop. Suddenly the knocker beat a frantic tattoo on the street door. +Up jumped Mrs. Brill, in sheer nervousness. + +Salvina lay rigid, undisturbed. + +"She's fallen asleep," thought her mother, guiltily conscious of +having taken advantage of her slumbers. "All the same, she might spare +my aged bones the trouble of dragging upstairs." But, being already on +her feet, she mounted the stairs, and opened the door on Sugarman's +beaming, breathless face. + +"Your daughter--Number 75,814," he gasped. + +Mrs. Brill, who knew nothing of Salvina's speculations, took some +seconds to catch his drift. + +"What, what?" she cried, trembling. + +"I have won her a hundred thousand marks--the great prize!" + +"The great prize!" screamed Mrs. Brill. "Salvina! Salvina! Come up," +and not waiting for her reply, and overturning the flower-pots on the +hall-table, she flew downstairs, helter-skelter. "Salvina!" she shook +her roughly. "Wake up! You have won the great prize!" + +But Salvina did not wake up, though she had won the great prize. + + +XV + +One Sunday afternoon nearly five months later a nondescript series of +vehicles, erratically and unpunctually succeeding one another, drew up +near the mortuary of the Jewish cemetery, but, from the presence of +women, it was obvious that something else than a funeral was in +progress. In fact, the two four-wheelers, three hansom cabs, several +dog-carts, and one open landau suggested rather a picnic amid the +tombs. But it was only the ceremony of the setting of Salvina's +tombstone, which was attracting all these relatives and well-wishers. + +In the landau--which gave ample space for their knees--sat the same +quartette that had shared a cab to Lazarus's wedding, except that +Salvina was replaced by Kitty. That ever young and beautiful person +was the only member of the family who had the air of having fallen in +the world, for despite that Salvina's great prize was now added to Mr. +Brill's capital (he being the legal heir), he had refused to set up a +groom in addition to a carriage. A coachman, he insisted, was all that +was necessary. It was the same tone that he had taken about the +horsehair sofa, and it helped Mrs. Brill to feel that her husband was +unchanged, after all. + +Arrived on the ground, the Brills found a gathering of the Jonases, +reconciled by death and riches. Others were to arrive, and the party +distributed itself about the cemetery with an air of conscious +incompleteness. Old Jonas shook hands cordially with Lazarus, and +wiped away a tear from under his green shade. A few of Salvina's +fellow-teachers had obeyed the notification of the advertisement in +the Jewish papers, and were come to pay the last tribute of respect. +The men wore black hat-bands, the women crape, which on all the nearer +relatives already showed signs of wear. And among all these groups, +conversing amiably of this or that in the pleasant October sunshine, +the genteel stone-mason insinuated himself, pervading the gathering. +His breast was divided between anxiety as to whether the parents would +like the tombstone, and uncertainty as to whether they would pay on +the spot. + +"Have you seen the stone? What do you think of it?" he kept saying to +everybody, with a deferential assumption of artistic responsibility; +though, as it was a handsome granite stone, the bulk of the chiselling +had been done in Aberdeen, for the sake of economy, whilst the stone +was green, and his own contribution had been merely the Hebrew +lettering. One by one, under the guidance of the artist, the groups +wandered toward the tombstone, and a spectator or two admiringly +opened negotiations for future contingencies. An old lady who knew the +stonemason's sister-in-law strove to make a bargain for her own +tombstone, quite forgetting that the money she was saving on it would +not be enjoyed by herself. + +"What will you charge _me_?" she asked, with grotesque coquetry. "I +think you ought to do it cheaper for _me_." + +And in the House of the Priests the minister in charge of the +ceremonial impatiently awaited the late comers, that he might intone +the beautiful immemorial Psalms. He had made a close bargain with the +cabman, and was anxious not to set him grumbling over the delay; apart +from his desire to get back to his pretty wife, who was "at home" that +afternoon. + +At last the genteel stone-mason found an opportunity of piercing +through the throng of friends that surrounded Mr. Brill, and of +obsequiously inviting the generous orderer of this especially +handsome and profitable tombstone to inspect it. Kitty followed in the +wake of her parents. Almost at the tomb, a corpulent man with graying +hair, issuing suddenly from an avenue of headstones, accosted her. She +frowned. + +"You oughtn't to have come," she said. + +"Since I belong to the family, Kitty," he remonstrated, playing +nervously with his massive watch seals. + +"No, you don't," she retorted. Then, relentingly: "I told you, Moss, +that I could not give you my formal consent till after my sister's +tombstone was set. That is the least respect I can pay her." And she +turned away from the somewhat disconcerted Rosenstein, feeling very +right-minded and very forgiving toward Salvina for delaying by so many +years her marriage with the South African magnate. + +Meantime Mr. Brill, in his heavily draped high hat, stood beside the +pompous granite memorial, surveying it approvingly. His wife's hand +lay tenderly in his own. Underneath their feet lay the wormy dust that +had once palpitated with truth and honour, that had kept the +conscience of the household. + +"That bit of scroll-work," said the stone-mason admiringly, and with +an air of having thrown it in at a loss; "you don't often see a bit +like that--everybody's been saying so." + +"Very fine!" replied Mr. Brill obediently. + +"I paid the synagogue bill for you--to save you trouble," added the +stone-mason, insinuatingly. + +But Mr. Brill was abstractedly studying the stone, and the mason moved +off delicately. Mrs. Brill tried to spell out a few of the words, but, +as there was no one to reprimand her, admitted her break-down. + +"Read it to me, dear heart," she whispered to Mr. Brill. + +"I did read it you, my precious one," he said, "when Kitty sent it us. +It says:-- + + "'SALVINA BRILL, + Whom God took suddenly, + On May 29th, 1897, + Aged twenty-five; + Loved and lamented by all + For her perfect goodness.' + +Then come the Hebrew letters." + +"Poor Salvina!" sighed Mrs. Brill. "She deserves it, though she did +spoil our lives for years." He pressed her hand. "I can't tell you how +frightened I was of her," she went on. "She almost made me think I +ought not to forgive you even on the Day of Atonement. But I don't +bear her malice, and I don't grudge her what the stone says." + +"No, you mustn't," he said piously. "Besides, everybody knows one +never puts the whole truth on tombstones." + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VIII + +SATAN MEKATRIG + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +VIII + +SATAN MEKATRIG + + "_Suffer not the evil imagination to have dominion over us ... + deliver me from the destructive Satan._"--Morning Prayer. + + +Without, the air was hot, heavy and oppressive; squadrons of dark +clouds had rolled up rapidly from the rim of the horizon, and +threatened each instant to shake heaven and earth with their +artillery. But within the little synagogue of the "Congregation of +Love and Mercy," though it was crowded to suffocation, not a window +was open. The worshippers, arrayed in their Sabbath finery, were too +intent on following the quaint monotonous sing-song of the Cantor +reading the Law to have much attention left for physical discomfort. +They thought of their perspiring brows and their moist undergarments +just about as little as they thought of the meaning of the Hebrew +words the reader was droning. Though the language was perfectly +intelligible to them, yet their consciousness was chiefly and +agreeably occupied with its musical accentuation, their piety being so +interwoven with these beloved and familiar material elements as hardly +to be separable therefrom. Perspiration, too, had come to seem almost +an ingredient of piety on great synagogal occasions. Frequent +experience had linked the two, as the poor opera-goer associates Patti +with crushes. And the present was a great occasion. It was only an +ordinary Sabbath afternoon service, but there was a feast of +intellectual good things to follow. The great Rav Rotchinsky from +Brody was to deliver a sermon; and so the swarthy, eager-eyed, +curly-haired, shrewd-visaged cobblers, tailors, cigar-makers, +peddlers, and beggars, who made up the congregation, had assembled in +their fifties to enjoy the dialectical subtleties, the theological +witticisms and the Talmudical anecdotes which the reputation of the +Galician Maggid foreshadowed. And not only did they come themselves; +many brought their wives, who sat in their wigs and earrings behind a +curtain which cut them off from the view of the men. The general +ungainliness of their figures and the unattractiveness of their +low-browed, high-cheekboned, and heavy-jawed faces would have made +this pious precaution appear somewhat superfluous to an outsider. The +women, whose section of the large room thus converted into a place of +worship was much smaller than the men's, were even more closely packed +on their narrow benches. Little wonder, therefore, that just as a +member of the congregation was intoning from the central platform the +blessing which closes the reading of the Law, a woman disturbed her +neighbours by fainting. She was carried out into the open air, though +not without a good deal of bustle, which invoked indignant +remonstrances in the Juedisch-Deutsch jargon, of "Hush, little women!" +from the male worshippers, unconscious of the cause. The beadle went +behind the curtain, and, fearing new disturbances, tried to open the +window at the back of the little room, to let in some air from the +back-yard on which it abutted. The sash was, however, too inert from a +long season of sloth to move even in its own groove, and so the beadle +elbowed his way back into the masculine department, and by much +tugging at a cord effected a small slit between a dusty skylight and +the ceiling, neglecting the grumblings of the men immediately beneath. + +Hardly had he done so, when all the heavy shadows that lay in the +corners of the synagogue, all the glooms that the storm-clouds cast +upon the day, and that the grimy, cobwebbed windows multiplied, were +sent flying off by a fierce flash of lightning that bathed in a sea of +fire the dingy benches, the smeared walls, the dingily curtained Ark, +the serried rows of swarthy faces. Almost on the heels of the +lightning came the thunder--that vast, instantaneous crash which +denotes that the electric cloud is low. + +The service was momentarily interrupted; the congregation was on its +feet; and from all parts rose the Hebrew blessing, "Blessed art thou, +O Lord, performing the work of the Creation;" followed, as the +thunder followed the lightning, by the sonorous "Blessed art thou, O +Lord, whose power and might fill the Universe." Then the congregation, +led by the great Rav Rotchinsky, to whose venerable thought-lined +face, surmounted by its black cap, all eyes had instinctively turned, +sat down again, feeling safe. The blessing was intended to mean, and +meant no more than, a reverential acknowledgment of the majesty of the +Creator revealed in elemental phenomena; but human nature, struggling +amid the terrors and awfulness of the Universe, is always below its +creed, and scarce one but felt the prayer a talisman. A moment +afterward all rose again, as Moshe Grinwitz, wrapped in his Talith, or +praying-shawl, prepared to descend from the _Al Memor_, or central +platform, bearing in his arms the Scroll of the Law, which had just +been reverentially wrapped in its bandages, and devoutly covered with +its embroidered mantle and lovingly decorated with its ornamental +bells and pointer. + +Now, as Moshe Grinwitz stood on the _Al Memor_ with his sacred burden, +another terrible flash of lightning and appalling crash of thunder +startled the worshippers. And Moshe's arms were nervously agitated, +and a frightful thought came into his head. _Suppose he should drop +the Holy Scroll!_ As this dreadful possibility occurred to him he +trembled still more. The _Sepher Torah_ is to the Jew at once the most +precious and the most sacred of possessions, and in the eyes of the +"Congregation of Love and Mercy" their _Sepher Torah_ was, if +possible, invested with a still higher preciousness and sanctity, +because they had only one. They were too poor to afford luxuries; and +so this single Scroll was the very symbol and seal of their +brotherhood; in it lay the very possibility of their existence as a +congregation. Not that it would be rendered "_Pasul_," imperfect and +invalid, by being dropped; the fall could not erase any of the letters +so carefully written on the parchment; but the calamity would be none +the less awful and ominous. Every person present would have to abstain +for a day from all food and drink, in sign of solemn grief. Moshe felt +that if the idea that had flitted across his brain were to be +realized, he would never have the courage to look his pious wife in +the face after such passive profanity. The congregation, too, which +honoured him, and which now waited to press devout kisses on the +mantle of the Scroll, on its passage to the Ark--he could not but be +degraded in its eyes by so negligent a performance of a duty which was +a coveted privilege. All these thoughts, which were instinctively +felt, rather than clearly conceived, caused Moshe Grinwitz to clasp +the Sacred Scroll, which reached a little above his head, tightly to +his breast. Feeling secure from the peril of dropping it, he made a +step forward, but the bells jangled weirdly to his ears, and when he +came to the two steps which led down from the platform, a horrible +foreboding overcame him that he would stumble and fall in the descent. +He stepped down one of the steps with morbid care, but lo! the feeling +that no power on earth could prevent his falling gained tenfold in +intensity. An indefinable presentiment of evil was upon him; the air +was charged with some awful and maleficent influence, of which the +convulsion of nature seemed a fit harbinger. And now his sensations +became more horrible. The conviction of the impending catastrophe +changed into a desire to take an active part in it, to have it done +with and over. His arms itched to loose their hold of the _Sepher +Torah_. Oh! if he could only dash the thing to the ground, nay, stamp +upon it, uttering fearful blasphemies, and shake off this dark cloud +that seemed to close round and suffocate him. A last shred of will, of +sanity, wrestled with his wild wishes. The perspiration poured in +streams down his forehead. It was but a moment since he had taken the +Holy Scroll into his arms; but it seemed ages ago. + +His foot hovered between the first and second step, when a strange +thing happened. Straight through the narrow slit opened in the +skylight came a swift white arrow of flame, so dazzling that the awed +worshippers closed their eyes; then a long succession of terrific +peals shook the room as with demoniac laughter, and when the +congregants came to their senses and opened their eyes they saw Moshe +Grinwitz sitting dazed upon the steps of the _Al Memor_, his hands +tightly grasping the ends of his praying-shawl, while the _Sepher +Torah_ lay in the dust of the floor. + +For a moment the shock was such that no one could speak or move. There +was an awful, breathless silence, broken only by the mad patter of the +rain on the roof and the windows. The floodgates of heaven were opened +at last, and through the fatal slit a very cascade of water seemed to +descend. Automatically the beadle rushed to the cord and pulled the +window to. His action broke the spell, and a dozen men, their swarthy +faces darker with concern, rushed to raise up the prostrate Scroll, +while a hubbub of broken ejaculations rose from every side. + +But ere a hand could reach it, Moshe Grinwitz had darted forward and +seized the precious object. "No, no," he cried, in the jargon which +was the common language of all present. "What do you want? The +_mitzvah_ (good deed) is mine. I alone must carry it." He shouldered +it anew. + +"Kiss it, at least," cried the great Rav Rotchinsky in a hoarse, +shocked whisper. + +"Kiss it?" cried Moshe Grinwitz, with a sneering laugh. "What! with my +wife in synagogue! Isn't it enough that I embrace it?" Then, without +giving his hearers time to grasp the profanity of his words, he went +on: "Ah, now I can carry thee easily. I can hold thee, and yet breathe +freely. See!" And he held out the Scroll lengthwise, showing the +gilded metal chain and the pointer and the bells contorted by the +lightning. "I didn't hurt thee; God hurt thee," he said, addressing +the Scroll. With a quick jerk of the hand he drew off the mantle and +showed the parchment blackened and disfigured. + +A groan burst from some; others looked on in dazed silence. The +pecuniary loss, added to the manifestation of Divine wrath, +overwhelmed them. "Thou hast no soul now to struggle out of my hands," +went on Moshe Grinwitz contemptuously. "Look!" he added suddenly: "The +lightning has gone back to hell again!" The men nearest him shuddered, +and gazed down at the point on the floor toward which he was inclining +the extremity of the Scroll. The wood was charred, and a small hole +revealed the path the electric current had taken. As they looked in +awestruck silence, a loud wailing burst forth from behind the curtain. +The ill-omened news of the destruction of the _Sepher Torah_ had +reached the women, and their Oriental natures found relief in profuse +lamentation. "Smell! smell!" cried Moshe Grinwitz, sniffing the +sulphurous air with open delight. + +"Woe! woe!" wailed the women. "Woe has befallen us!" + +"Be silent, all!" thundered the Maggid, suddenly recovering himself. +"Be silent, women! Listen to my words. This is the vengeance of Heaven +for the wickedness ye have committed in England. Since ye left your +native country ye have forgotten your Judaism. There are men in this +synagogue that have shaved the corners of their beard; there are women +who have not separated the Sabbath dough. Hear ye! To-morrow shall be +a fast day for you all. And you, Moshe Grinwitz, _bench gomel_--thank +the Holy One, blessed be He, for saving your life." + +"Not I," said Moshe Grinwitz. "You talk nonsense. If the Holy One, +blessed be He, saved my life, it was He that threatened it. My life +was in no danger if He hadn't interfered." + +To hear blasphemies like this from the hitherto respectable and devout +Moshe Grinwitz overwhelmed his hearers. But only for a moment. From a +hundred throats there rose the angry cry, "Epikouros! Epikouros!" And +mingled with this accusation of graceless scepticism there swelled a +gathering tumult of "His is the sin! Cast him out! He is the Jonah! He +is the sinner!" The congregants had all risen long ago and menacing +faces glared behind menacing faces. Some of more heady temperament +were starting from their places. "Moshe Grinwitz," cried the great +Rav, his voice dominating the din, "are you mad?" + +"Now for the first time am I sane," replied the man, his brow dark +with defiance, his tall but usually stooping frame rigid, his narrow +chest dilated, his head thrown back so that the somewhat rusty high +hat he wore sloped backward half off his skull. It was always a +strange, arrestive face, was Moshe Grinwitz's, with its sallow skin, +its melancholy dark eyes, its aquiline nose, its hanging side-curls, +and its full, fleshy mouth embowered in a forest of black beard and +mustache; and now there was an uncanny light about it which made it +almost weird. "Now I see that the Socialists and Atheists are right, +and that we trouble ourselves and tear out our very gall to read a +_Torah_ which the Overseer himself, if there is one, scornfully +shrivels up and casts beneath our feet. Know ye what, brethren? Let us +all go to the Socialist Club and smoke our cigarettes. Otherwise are +_you_ mad!" As he uttered these impious words, another flash of flame +lit up the crowded dusk with unearthly light; the building seemed to +rock and crash; the fingers of the storm beat heavily upon the +windows. From the women's compartment came low wails of fear: "Lord, +have mercy! Forgive us for our sins! It is the end of the world!" But +from the men's benches there arose an incoherent cry like the growl of +a tiger, and from all sides excited figures precipitated themselves +upon the blasphemer. But Moshe Grinwitz laughed a wild, maniacal +laugh, and whirled the sacred Scroll round and dashed the first comers +against one another. But a muscular Lithuanian seized the extremity of +the Scroll, and others hung on, and between them they wrested it from +his grasp. Still he fought furiously, as if endowed with sinews of +steel, and his irritated opponents, their faces bleeding and swollen, +closed round him, forgetting that their object was but to expel him, +and bent on doing him a mischief. Another moment and it would have +fared ill with the man, when a voice, whose tones startled all but +Moshe Grinwitz, though they were spoken close to his ear, hissed in +Yiddish: "Well, if this is the way the members of the Congregation of +Love and Mercy spend their Sabbath, methinks they had done as well to +smoke cigarettes at the Socialist Club. What say ye, brethren?" These +words, pregnant and deserved enough in themselves, were underlined by +an accent of indescribable mockery, not bitter, but as gloating over +the enjoyment of their folly. Involuntarily all turned their eyes to +the speaker. + +Who was he? Where did he spring from, this black-coated, fur-capped, +red-haired hunchback with the gigantic marble brow, the cold, keen, +steely eyes that drew and enthralled the gazer, the handsome +clean-shaven lips contorted with a sneer? None remembered seeing him +enter--none had seen him sitting at their side, or near them. He was +not of their congregation, nor of their brotherhood, nor of any of +their crafts. Yet as they looked at him the exclamations died away on +their lips, their menacing hands fell to their sides, and a wave of +vague, uneasy remembrance passed over all the men in the synagogue. +There was not one that did not seem to know him; there was not one who +could have told who he was, or when or where he had seen him before. +Even the great Rav Rotchinsky, who had set foot on English soil but a +fortnight ago, felt a stir of shadowy recollection within him; and his +corrugated brow wrinkled itself still more in the search after +definiteness. A deep and sudden silence possessed the synagogue; the +very sobs of the unseeing women were checked. Only the sough of the +storm, the ceaseless plash of the torrent, went on as before. Without, +the busy life of London pulsed, unchecked by the tempest; within, the +little synagogue was given over to mystery and nameless awe. + +The sneering hunchback took the Holy Scroll from the nerveless hands +of the Lithuanian, and waved it as in derision. "Blasted! harmless!" +he cried. "The great Name itself mocked by the elements! So this is +what ye toil and sweat for--to store up gold that His words may be +inscribed finely on choice parchment; and then this is how He laughs +at your toil and your self-sacrifice. Listen to Him no more; give not +up the seventh day to idleness when your Lord worketh His lightnings +thereon. Blind yourselves no longer over old-fashioned pages, dusty +and dreary. Rise up against Him and His law, for He is moved with +mirth at your mummeries. He and His angels laugh at you--Heaven is +merry with your folly. What hath He done for His chosen people for +their centuries of anguish and martyrdom? It is for His plaything that +He hath _chosen_ you. He hath given you over into the hand of the +spoiler; ye are a byword among nations; the followers of the +victorious Christ spit in your faces. Here in England your lot is +least hard; but even here ye eat your scanty bread with sorrow and +travail. Sleep may rarely visit your eyes; your homes are noisome +styes; your children perish around you; ye go down in sorrow to the +grave. Rouse yourselves, and be free men. Waste your lives neither for +God nor man. Or, if you will worship, worship the Christ, whose +ministers will pour gold upon you. Eat, drink, and be merry, for +to-morrow ye die." + +A charmed silence still hung over his auditors. Their resentment, +their horror, was dead; a waft of fiery air seemed to blow over their +souls, an intoxicating flush of evil thoughts held riot in their +hearts. They felt their whole spirit move under the sway of the daring +speaker, who now seemed to them merely to put into words thoughts long +suppressed in their own hearts, but now rising into active +consciousness. Yes, they had been fools: they would free themselves, +and quaff the wine of life before the Angel of Death, Azrael, spilled +the goblet. Moshe Grinwitz's melancholy eyes blazed with sympathetic +ardour. + +"Hush, miserable blasphemer!" faltered the great Rav Rotchinsky, who +alone could find his tongue. "The guardian of Israel neither +slumbereth nor sleepeth." The hunchback wheeled round and cast a +chilling glance at the venerable man. Then, smiling, "The maidens of +England are beautiful," he said. "They are even fairer than the women +of Brody." + +The great Rav turned pale, but his eyes shone. He struck out feebly +with his arms, as though beating back some tempting vision. + +"You and I have spoken together before, Rabbi," said the hunchback. +"We shall speak again--about women, wine, and other things. Your beard +is long and white, but many days of sunshine are still before you, and +the darkness of the grave is afar." + +The rabbi tried to mutter a prayer, but his lips only beat tremulously +together. + +"Profane mocker," he muttered at length, "go to thy work and thy wine +and thy pleasure, if thou wouldst desecrate the sacred Sabbath-day; +but tempt not others to sin with thee. Begone; and may the Holy One, +blessed be He, blast thee with His lightnings." + +"The Holy One blasteth only that which is holy," grimly rejoined the +dwarfish stranger, exhibiting the Scroll, while a low sound of +applause went up from the audience. "Said I not, ye were a sport and a +mockery unto Him? Ye assemble in your multitude for prayer, and the +vapour of your piety but prepares the air for the passage of His +arrows. Ye adorn His Scroll with bells and chains, and the gilded +metal but draws His lightnings." + +He looked around the room and a cat-like gleam of triumph stole into +his wonderful eyes as he noted the effect of his words. He paused, and +again for a moment the tense, awful silence reigned, emphasized by the +loud but decreasing patter of the rain. This time it was broken in a +strange, unexpected fashion. + +"_Yisgadal, veyiskadash sheme rabbo_," rang out a clear, childish +voice from the rear of the synagogue. A little orphan child, who had +come to repeat the _Kaddish_, the Hebrew mourners' unquestioning +acknowledgment of the Supreme Goodness, had fallen into a sleep, +overcome by the heat, and had slept all through the storm. Awakening +now amid a universal silence, the poor little fellow instinctively +felt that the congregation was waiting for him to pronounce the +prayer. Alone of the male worshippers he had neither seen the +blaspheming hunchback nor listened to his words. + +The hunchback's handsome face was distorted with a scowl; he stamped +his broad splay-foot, but hearing no verbal interruption, the child, +its eyes piously closed, continued its prayer-- + +"_In the world which He hath created...._" + +"The rain has ceased, brethren," huskily whispered the hunchback, for +his words seemed to stick in his throat. "Come outside and I will tell +you how to enjoy this world, for world-to-come there is none." Not a +figure stirred. The child's treble went unfalteringly on. The stranger +hurried toward the door. Arrived there, he looked back. Moshe +Grinwitz alone followed him. He hurled the Scroll at the child's head, +but the lad just then took the three backward steps which accompany +the conclusion of the prayer. The Scroll dashed itself against the +wall; the stranger was gone and with him Moshe Grinwitz. A great wave +of trembling passed through the length and breadth of the synagogue; +the men drew long breaths, as if some heavy and sulphurous vapour had +been dissipated from the atmosphere; the child lifted up with +difficulty the battered Scroll, kissed it and handed it to his +neighbour, who deposited it reverently in the Ark; a dazzling burst of +sunshine flooded the room from above, and transmuted the floating dust +into the golden shafts of some celestial structure; the Cantor and the +congregation continued the words of the service at the point +interrupted, as though all the strange episode had been a dream. They +did not speak or wonder among themselves at it; nor did the rabbi +allude to it in the marvellous exhortation that succeeded the service, +save at its close, when he reminded them that on the morrow they must +observe a solemn fast. But ever afterward they shunned Moshe Grinwitz +as a leper; for the sight of him recalled his companion in blasphemy, +the atheist and socialist propagandist, who had insidiously crept into +their midst, after perverting and crazing their fellow as a +preliminary; and the thought of the strange hunchback set their blood +tingling and their brain surging with wild fancies and audacious +thoughts. The tidings of their misfortune induced a few benevolent men +to join in purchasing a new Scroll of the Law for them, and before the +Feast of Consecration of this precious possession was well over, the +once vivid images of that stormy and disgraceful scene were as shadows +in the minds of men not unaccustomed to heated synagogal discussions, +and not altogether strangers to synagogal affrays. + + "_She will do him good and not evil all the days of her + life._"--Prov. xxxi. 12. + +As Moshe Grinwitz followed his new-found friend down the narrow +windings that led to his own home, his whole being surrendered itself +to the new delicious freedom. The burst of sunshine that greeted him +almost as soon as he crossed the threshold of the synagogue seemed to +him to typify the new life that was to be his. He drew up his gaunt +form to his full height, stiffened his curved shoulders, bent by much +stooping over his machine, and adjusted his high hat firmly on his +head. It was not a restful, placid feeling that now possessed him; +rather a busy ferment of ideas, a stirring of nerve currents, an +accumulation of energy striving to discharge itself, a mercurial +flowing of the blood. The weight of old life-long conceptions, nay, +the burden of old learning, of which his store had been vast, was cast +off. He did not know what he should do with the new life that tingled +in his veins; he only felt alive in every pore. + +"Ha! brother!" he shouted to the hunchback, who was hurrying on +before. "These fools in the synagogue would do better to come out and +enjoy the fine weather." + +"They breathe the musty air to offer it up as a sweet incense," +responded the dwarf, slackening his steps to allow his companion to +come up with him. + +Their short walk was diversified by quite a number of incidents. A +driver lashed his horse so savagely that the animal bolted; two +children walking hand in hand suddenly began to fight; a +foreign-looking, richly dressed gentleman, half-drunk, staggered +along. Moshe felt it a shame that one wealthy man should wear a heavy +gold chain, which would support a poor family for a month; but ere his +own temptation had gathered to a head, the poor gentleman was felled +by a sudden blow, and a respectably clad figure vanished down an alley +with the coveted spoil. Moshe felt glad, and made no attempt to assist +the victim, and his attention was immediately attracted by some boys, +who commenced to tie a cracker to a cat's tail. Occupied by all these +observations, Moshe suddenly noted with a start that they had reached +the house in which he lived. His companion had already entered the +passage, for the door was always ajar, and Moshe had the impression +that it was very kind of his new friend to accept his invitation to +visit him. He felt very pleased, and followed him into the passage, +but no sooner had he done so than an impalpable cloud of distrust +seemed to settle upon him. The house was a tall, old-fashioned and +grimy structure, which had been fine, and even stately, a century +before, but which now sheltered a dozen families, mainly Jewish. Moshe +Grinwitz's one room was situated at the very top, its walls forming +part of the roof. Every flight of stairs Moshe went up, his spirit +grew darker and darker, as if absorbing the darkness that hung around +the cobwebbed, massive balustrades, upon which no direct ray of +sunlight ever fell; and by the time he had reached the dusky landing +outside his own door the vague uneasiness had changed into a horrible +definite conception; a memory had come back upon him which set his +heart thumping guiltily and anxiously in his bosom. His wife! His +pure, virtuous, God-fearing wife! How was he to make her understand? +But immediately a thought came, by which the burden of shame and +anxiety was half lifted. His wife was not at home; she would still be +in the Synagogue of Love and Mercy, where, mercifully blinded by the +curtain, she, perhaps, was still ignorant of the part he had played. +He turned suddenly to his companion, and caught the vanishing traces +of an ugly scowl wrinkling the high white forehead under the fur cap. +The hunchback's hair burnt like fire on the background of the gloom; +his eyes flashed lightning. + +"Probably my wife is in the synagogue," said Moshe. "If so, she has +the key, and we can't get in." + +"The key matters little," hissed the hunchback. "But you must first +tear down this thing." + +Moshe's eyes followed in wonder the direction of his companion's long, +white forefinger, and rested on the _Mezuzah_, where, in a tin case, +the holy verses and the Name hung upon the door-post. + +"Tear it down?" repeated Moshe. + +"Tear it down!" replied the hunchback. "Never will I enter a home +where this superstitious gew-gaw is allowed to decorate the door." + +Moshe hesitated; the thought of what his wife would say, again welled +up strongly within him; all his new impious daring seemed to be +melting away. But a mocking glance from the cruel eyes thrilled +through him. He put his hand on the _Mezuzah_, then the unbroken habit +of years asserted its sway, and he removed the finger which had lain +on the Name and kissed it. Instantly another semi-transformation of +his thoughts took place; he longed to take the hunchback by the +throat. But it was an impotent longing, for when a low hiss of intense +scorn and wrath was breathed from the clenched lips of his companion, +he made a violent tug at the firmly fastened _Mezuzah_. It was +half-loosed from the woodwork when, from behind the door, there issued +in clear, womanly tones the solemn Hebrew words:-- + +"_Blessed is the man that walketh not in the council of the ungodly, +nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the +scornful._" + +It was Rebecca Grinwitz commencing the Book of Psalms, which she read +through every Sabbath afternoon. + +A violent shudder agitated Moshe Grinwitz's frame; he paused with his +hand on the _Mezuzah_, struggled with himself awhile, then kissed his +finger again, and, turning to defy the scorn of his companion, saw +that he had slipped noiselessly downstairs. A sob of intense relief +burst from Moshe's lips. + +"Rivkoly, Rivkoly!" he cried hysterically, beating at the door; and in +another moment he was folded in the quiet haven of his wife's arms. + +"Who told thee it was I?" said Rebecca, after a moment of delicious +happiness for both. "I told them not to alarm thee, nor to spoil thy +enjoyment of the sermon, because I knew thou wouldst be uneasy and be +wanting to leave the synagogue if thou knewest I had fainted." + +"No one told me thou hadst fainted!" Moshe exclaimed, instantly +forgetting his own perturbation. + +"And yet thou didst guess it!" said Rebecca, a happy little smile +dimpling her pale cheek, "and came away after me." Then, her face +clouding, "The _Satan Mekatrig_ has tempted us both away from +synagogue," she said, "and even when I commence to say _Tehillim_ +(Psalms) at home, he interrupts me by sending me my darling husband." + +Moshe kissed her in acknowledgment of the complimentary termination of +a sentence begun with unquestionable gloom. "But what made my Rivkoly +faint?" he asked, glad, on reflection, that his wife's misconception +obviated the necessity of explanations. "They ought to have opened the +window at the back of the women's room." + +Rebecca shuddered. "God forbid!" she cried. "It wasn't the heat--it +was _that_." Her eyes stared a moment at some unseen vision. + +"What?" cried Moshe, catching the contagion of horror. + +"He would have come in," she said. + +"Who would have come in?" he gasped. + +"The _Satan Mekatrig_," replied his wife. "He was outside, and he +glared at me as if I prevented his coming in." + +A nervous silence followed. Moshe's heart beat painfully. Then he +laughed with ghastly merriment. "Thou didst fall asleep from the +heat," he said, "and hadst an evil dream." + +"No, no," protested his wife earnestly. "As sure as I stand here, no! +I was looking into my _Chumosh_ (Pentateuch), following the reading of +the _Torah_, and all at once I felt something plucking my eyes off my +book and turning my head to look through the window immediately behind +me. I wondered what _Satan Mekatrig_ was distracting my thoughts from +the service. For a long time I resisted, but when the reading ceased +for a moment the temptation overcame me and I turned and saw him." + +"How looked he?" Moshe asked in a whisper that strove in vain not to +be one. + +"Do not ask me," Rebecca replied, with another shudder. "A little +crooked demon with red hair, and a fur cap, and a white forehead, and +baleful eyes, and a cock's talons for toes." + +Again Moshe laughed, a strange, hollow laugh. "Little fool!" he said, +"I know the man. He is only a brother-Jew--a poor cutter or +cigar-maker who laughs at _Yiddishkeit_ (Judaism), because he has no +wife like mine to show him the heavenly light. Why, didst thou not see +him afterward? But no, thou must have been gone by the time he came +inside." + +"What I saw was no man," returned Rebecca, looking at him sternly. "No +earthly being could have stopped my heart with his glances. It was the +_Satan Mekatrig_ himself, who goeth to and fro on the earth, and +walketh up and down in it. I must have been having wicked thoughts +indeed this Sabbath, thinking of my new dress, for my Sabbath Angel +to have deserted me, and to let the Disturber and the Tempter assail +me unchecked." The poor, conscience-stricken woman burst into tears. + +"My Rivkoly have wicked thoughts!" said Moshe incredulously, as he +smoothed her cheek. "If my Rivkoly puts on a new dress in honour of +the Sabbath, is not the dear God pleased? Why, where _is_ thy new +dress?" + +"I have changed it for an old one," she sobbed. "I do not want to see +the demon again." + +"The _Satan Mekatrig_ has no real existence, I tell thee," said Moshe, +irritated. "He only means our own inward thoughts, that distract us in +the performance of the precepts; our own inward temptations to go +astray after our eyes and after our hearts." + +"Moshe!" Rebecca exclaimed in a shocked tone, "have I married an +Epikouros after all? My father, the Rav, peace be unto him, always +said thou hadst the makings of one--that thou didst ask too many +questions." + +"Well, whether there is a _Satan_ or not," retorted her husband, "thou +couldst not have seen him; for the person thou describest is the man I +tell thee of." + +"And thou keepest company with such a man," she answered; "a man who +scoffs at _Yiddishkeit_! May the Holy One, blessed be He, forgive +thee! Now I know why we have no children, no son to say _Kaddish_ +after us." And Rebecca wept bitterly--for the children she did not +possess. + +Their common cause of grief coming thus unexpectedly into their +consciousness softened them toward one another and dispelled the +gathering irritation. Both had a melancholy vision of themselves +stretched out stiff and stark in their shrouds, with no filial +_Kaddish_ breaking in upon and gladdening their ears. O if their souls +should be doomed to Purgatory, with no son's prayers to release them! +Very soon they were sitting hand in hand, reading together the +interrupted Psalms. + +And a deep peace fell upon Moshe Grinwitz. So the immortal allegorist, +John Bunyan, must have felt when the mad longing to utter blasphemies +and obscenities from the pulpit was stifled; and when he felt his soul +once more in harmony with the Spirit of Good. So feel all men who have +wrestled with a Being in the darkness and prevailed. + +They were a curious contrast--the tall, sallow, stooping, +black-bearded man, and the small, keen-eyed, plump, pleasant-looking, +if not pretty woman, in her dark wig and striped cotton dress, and as +they sat, steadily going through the whole collection of Psalms to a +strange, melancholy tune, fraught with a haunting and indescribable +pathos, the shadows of twilight gathered unnoticed about the attic, +which was their all in all of home. The iron bed, the wooden chairs, +the gilt-framed _Mizrach_ began to lose their outlines in the +dimness. The Psalms were finished at last, and then the husband and +wife sat, still hand in hand, talking of their plans for the coming +week. For once neither spoke of going to evening service at the +Synagogue of Love and Mercy, and when a silver ray of moonlight lay +broad across the counterpane, and Rebecca Grinwitz, peering into the +quiet sky that overhung the turbid alley, announced that three stars +were visible, the devout couple turned their faces to the east and +sang the hymns that usher out the Sabbath. + +And when the evening prayer was over Rebecca produced from the +cupboard the plainly cut goblet of raisin wine, and the metal +wine-cup, the green twisted waxlight, and the spice-box, wherewith to +perform the beautiful symbolical ceremony of the _Havdalah_, welcoming +in the days of work, the six long days of dreary drudgery, with +cheerful resignation to the will of the Maker of all things--of the +Sabbath and the Day of Work, the Light and the Shadow, the Good and +the Evil, blent into one divine harmony by His inscrutable Wisdom and +Love. + +Moshe filled the cup with raisin wine, and, holding it with his right +hand, chanted a short majestic Hebrew poem, whereof the burden was:-- + +"Lo! God is my salvation; I will trust, and I will not be afraid. Be +with us light and joy, gladness and honour." Then blessing the King of +the Universe, who had created the fruit of the Vine, he placed the +cup on the table and took up the spices, uttering a blessing over them +as he did so. Then having smelled the spice-box, he passed it on to +his wife and spread out his hands toward the light of the spiral wax +taper, reciting solemnly: "Blessed be Thou, O Lord, our God, King of +the Universe, who createst the Light of the Fire." And then looking +down at the Shade made by his bent fingers, he took up the wine-cup +again, and chanted, with especial fervour, and with a renewed sense of +the sanctities and sweet tranquillities of religion: "Blessed be Thou, +O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who makest a distinction between +the Holy and the non-Holy, between Light and Darkness." + + "_As for that night, let darkness seize upon it._"--Job iii. 6. + +It was _Kol Nidre_ night, the commencement of the great White Fast, +the Day of Atonement. Throughout the Jewish quarter there was an air +of subdued excitement. The synagogues had just emptied themselves and +everywhere men and women, yet under the solemn shadow of passionate +prayer, were meeting and exchanging the wish that they might weather +the fast safely. The night was dark and starless, as if Nature partook +of the universal mournfulness. + +Solitary, though amidst a crowd, a slight, painfully thin woman +shuffled wearily along, her feet clad in the slippers which befitted +the occasion, her head bent, her worn cheek furrowed with +still-falling tears. They were not the last dribblets of an exhausted +emotion, not the meaningless, watery expression of over-excited +sensibility. They were real, salt, bitter tears born of an intense +sorrow. The long, harassing service, with its untiring demands upon +the most exalted and the most poignant emotions, would have been a +blessing if it had dulled her capacity for anguish. But it had not. +Poor Rebecca Grinwitz was still thinking of her husband. + +It was of him she thought, even when the ministers, in their long +white cerements, were pouring forth their souls in passionate +vocalization, now rising to a wail, now breaking to a sob, now sinking +to a dread whisper; it was of him she thought when the weeping +worshippers, covered from head to foot in their praying-shawls, rocked +to and fro in a frenzy of grief, and battered the gates of Heaven with +fiery lyrics; it was of him she thought when she beat her breast with +her clenched fist as she made the confession of sin and clamoured for +forgiveness. Sins enough she knew she had--but _his_ sin! Ah! God, +_his_ sin! + +For Moshe had gone from bad to worse. He refused to reenter the +synagogue where he had been so roughly handled. His speech became more +and more profane. He said no more prayers; wore no more phylacteries. +Her peaceful home-life wrecked, her reliance on her husband gone, the +poor wife clung to him, still hoping on. At times she did not believe +him sane. Gradually rumours of his mad behaviour on the Sabbath on +which she had fainted reached her ears, and remembering that his +strangeness had begun from the Sunday morning following that delicious +afternoon of common Psalm-saying, she was often inclined to put it all +down to mental aberration. But then his talk--so clever, if so +blasphemous; bristling with little pointed epigrams and maxims such as +she had never before heard from him or any one else. He was full of +new ideas, too, on politics and the social system and other +unpractical topics, picturing endless potentialities of wealth and +happiness for the labourer. Meantime his wages had fallen by a third, +owing to the loss of his former place, his master having been the +president of the Congregation of Love and Mercy. What wonder, +therefore, if Moshe Grinwitz intruded upon all his wife's +thoughts--devotional or worldly? In a very real sense he had become +her _Satan Mekatrig_. + +Up till to-night she had gone on hoping. For when the great White Fast +comes round, a mighty wave as of some subtle magnetism passes through +the world of Jews. Men and women who have not obeyed one precept of +Judaism for a whole year suddenly awake to a remembrance of the faith +in which they were born, and hasten to fast and pray, and abase +themselves before the Throne of Mercy. The long-drawn, tremulous, +stirring notes of the trumpet that ushers in the New Year, seem to +rally and gather together the dispersed of Israel from every region +of the underworld of unfaith and to mass them beneath the cope of +heaven. And to-night surely the newly rooted nightshade of doubt would +wither away in her husband's bosom. Surely this one link still held +him to the religion of his fathers; and this one link would redeem him +and yet save his soul from the everlasting tortures of the damned. But +this last hope had been doomed to disappointment. Utterly unmoved by +all the olden sanctities of the Days of Judgment that initiate the New +Year, the miserable man showed no signs of remorse when the more awful +terrors of the Day of Atonement drew near--the last day of grace for +the sinner, the day on which the Divine Sentence is sealed +irrevocably. And so the wretched woman had gone to the synagogue +alone. + +Reaching home, she toiled up the black staircase and turned the handle +of the door. As she threw open the door she uttered a cry. She saw +nothing before her but a gigantic shadow, flickering grotesquely on +the sloping walls and the slip of ceiling. It must be her own shadow, +for other living occupant of the room she could see none. Where was +her husband? Whither had he gone? Why had he recklessly left the door +unlocked? + +She looked toward the table gleaming weirdly with its white +tablecloth; the tall wax _Yom Kippur_ Candle, specially lit on the eve +of the solemn fast and intended to burn far on into the next day, had +all but guttered away, and the flame was quivering unsteadily under +the influence of a draught coming from the carelessly opened window. +Rebecca shivered from head to foot; a dread presentiment of evil shook +her soul. For years the Candle had burnt steadily, and her life also +had been steady and undisturbed. Alas! it needed not the omen of the +_Yom Kippur_ Candle to presage woe. + +"May the dear God have mercy on me!" she exclaimed, bursting into +fresh tears. Hardly had she uttered the words when a monstrous black +cat, with baleful green eyes, dashed from under the table, sprang upon +the window-sill, and disappeared into the darkness, uttering a +melancholy howl. Almost frantic with terror, the poor woman dragged +herself to the window and closed it with a bang, but ere the sash had +touched the sill, something narrow and white had flashed from the room +through the gap, and the reverberations made in the silent garret by +the shock of the violently closed window were prolonged in mocking +laughter. + +"Well thrown, Rav Moshe!" said a grating voice. "Now that you have at +last conquered your reverence for a bit of tin and a morsel of +parchment, I will honour your mansion with my presence." + +Instantly Rebecca felt a wild longing to join in the merriment and to +laugh away her fears; but, muttering a potent talismanic verse, she +turned and faced her husband and his guest. Instinct had not deceived +her--the new-comer was the hunchback of that fatal Sabbath. This time +she did not faint. + +"A strange hour and occasion to bring a visitor, Moshe," she said +sternly, her face growing even more rigid and white as she caught the +nicotian and alcoholic reek of the two men's breaths. + +"Your good _Frau_ is not over-polite," said the visitor. "But it's +_Yom Kippur_, and so I suppose she feels she must tell the truth." + +"I brought him, Rivkoly, to convince thee what a fool thou wast to +assert that thou hadst seen--but _I_ mustn't be impolite," he broke +off, with a coarse laugh. "There's no call for _me_ to tell the truth +because it's _Yom Kippur_. Down at the Club we celebrated the occasion +by something better than truth--a jolly spread! And our good friend +here actually stood a bottle of champagne! Champagne, Rivkoly! Think +of it! Real, live champagne, like that which fizzes and sparkles on +the table of the Lord Mayor. Oh, he's a jolly good fellow! and so said +all of us, too. And yet thou sayest he isn't a fellow at all." + +A drunken leer overspread his sallow face, and was rendered more +ghastly by the flame leaping up from the expiring candle. + +"_Roshah_, sinner!" thundered the woman. Then looking straight into +the cruel eyes of the hunchback, her wan face shining with the stress +of a great emotion, her meagre form convulsed with fury, "Avaunt, +_Satan Mekatrig_!" she screamed. "Get thee down from my house--get +thee down. In God's name, get thee down--to hell." + +Even the brazen-faced hunchback trembled before her passion; but he +grasped his friend's hot hand in his long, nervous fingers, and seemed +to draw courage from the contact. + +"If I go, I take your husband!" he hissed, his great eyes blazing in +turn. "He will leave me no more. Send me away, if you will." + +"Yes, thou must not send my friend away like this," hiccoughed Moshe +Grinwitz. "Come, make him welcome, like the good wife thou wast wont +to be." + +Rebecca uttered a terrible cry, and, cowering down on the ground, +rocked herself to and fro. + +The drunkard appeared moved. "Get up, Rivkoly," he said, with a +tremour in his tones. "To see thee one would think thou wast sitting +_Shivah_ over my corpse." He put out his hand as if to raise her up. + +"Back!" she screamed, writhing from his grasp. "Touch me not; no +longer am I wife of thine." + +"Hear you that, man?" said the hunchback eagerly. "You are free. I am +here as a witness. Think of it; you are free." + +"Yes, I am free," repeated Moshe, with a horrible, joyous exultation +on his sickly visage. The gigantic shadow of himself that bent over +him, cast by the dying flame of the _Yom Kippur_ Candle, seemed to +dance in grim triumph, his long side-curls dangling in the spectral +image like barbaric ornaments in the ears of a savage, while the +unshapely, fantastic shadow of the hunchback seemed to nod its head in +applause. Then, as the flame leaped up in an irregular jet, the +distorted shadow of the Tempter intertwined itself in a ghastly +embrace with her own. With frozen blood and stifled breath the +tortured woman turned away, and, as her eyes fell upon the +many-cracked looking-glass which adorned the mantelpiece, she saw, or +her overwrought fancy seemed to see--her husband's dead face, wreathed +with a slavering serpent in the place of the phylacteries he had +ceased to wear, and surrounded by endless perspectives of mocking +marble-browed visages, with fiery snakes for hair and live coals for +eyes. + +She felt her senses slipping away from her grasp, but she struggled +wildly against the heavy vapour that seemed to choke her. "Moshe!" she +shrieked, in mad, involuntary appeal for help, as she clutched the +mantel and closed her eyes to shut out the hideous vision. + +"I am no longer thy husband," tauntingly replied the man. "I may not +touch thee." + +"Hear you that, woman?" came the sardonic voice of the hunchback. "You +are free. I am here as a witness." + +"I am here as a witness," a thousand mocking voices seemed to hiss in +echoed sibilance. + +A terrible silence followed. At last she turned her white shrunken +face, which the contrast of the jet-black wig rendered weird and +death-like, toward the man who had been her husband, and looked long +and slowly, yearningly yet reproachfully, into his bloodshot eyes. + +Again a great wave of agitation shook the man from head to foot. + +"Don't look at me like that, Rivkoly," he almost screamed. "I won't +have it. I won't see thee. Curse that candle! Why does it flicker on +eternally and not blot thee from my sight?" He puffed violently at the +tenacious flame and a pall fell over the room. But the next instant +the light leaped up higher than ever. + +"Moshe!" Rebecca shrieked in wild dismay. "Dost thou forget it is _Kol +Nidre_ night? How canst thou dare to blow out a light? Besides, it is +the _Yom Kippur_ Candle--it is our life and happiness for the New +Year. If you blow it out, I swear, by my soul and the great Name, that +you shall never look upon my face again." + +"It is because I do not wish to see thy face that I will blow it out," +he replied, laughing hysterically. + +"No, no!" she pleaded. "I will go away rather. It is nearly dead of +itself; let it die." + +"No! It takes too long dying; 'tis like thy father, the Rav, who had +the corpse-watchers so long in attendance that one died himself," said +Moshe Grinwitz with horrible laughter. "I will kill it!" And bending +down low over the broad socket of the candlestick, so that his head +loomed gigantic on the ceiling, he silenced forever the restless +tongue of fire. + +Immediately a thick blackness, as of the grave, settled upon the +chamber. Hollow echoes of the blasphemer's laughter rang and resounded +on every side. Myriads of dreadful faces shaped themselves out of the +gloom, and mowed and gibbered at the woman. At the window, the green, +baleful eyes of the black cat glared with phosphorescent light. A +wreath of fiery serpents twisted themselves in fiendish contortions, +shedding lurid radiance upon the cruel marble brow they garlanded. An +unspeakable Eeriness, an unnameable Unholiness, floated with +far-sweeping, rustling pinions through the Darkness. + +With stifling throat that strove in vain to shriek, the woman dashed +out through the well-known door, fled wildly down the stairs, pursued +at every step by the sardonic merriment, met at every corner by the +gibbering shapes--fled on, dashing through the heavy, ever-open street +door into the fresher air of the night--on, instinctively on, through +the almost deserted streets and alleys, where only the vile gin-houses +gleamed with life--on, without pause or rest, till she fell exhausted +upon the dusty door-step of the Synagogue of Love and Mercy. + + "_All Israel have a portion in the world to come._"--Ethics of + the Fathers. + +The aged keeper of the synagogue rushed out at the noise. + +"Save me! For God's sake, save me, Reb Yitzchok!" cried the fallen +figure. "Save me from the _Satan Mekatrig_! I have no home--no +husband--any more! Take me in!" + +"Take you in?" said Reb Yitzchok pityingly, for he dimly guessed +something of her story. "Where can I take you in? You know my wife and +I are allowed but one tiny room here." + +"Take me in!" repeated the woman. "I will pass the night in the +synagogue. I must pray for my husband's soul, for he has no son to +pray for him. Let me come in! Save me from the _Satan Mekatrig_!" + +"You would certainly meet many a _Satan Mekatrig_ in the streets +during the night," said the old man musingly. "But have you no friends +to go to?" + +"None--none--but God! Let me in that I may go to Him. Give me shelter, +and He will have mercy on you when the great _Tekiah_ sounds to-morrow +night!" + +Without another word Reb Yitzchok went into his room, returned with +the key, and threw open the door of the women's synagogue, revealing a +dazzling flood of light from the numerous candles, big and little, +which had been left burning in their sconces. The low curtain that +served as a partition had been half rolled back by devoted husbands +who had come to inquire after their wives at the end of the service, +and the synagogue looked unusually large and bright, though it was hot +and close, with lingering odours of breaths, and snuff, and tallow, +and smelling-salts. + +With a sob of infinite thankfulness Rebecca dropped upon a wooden +bench. + +"Would you like a blanket?" said the old man. + +"No, no, God bless you!" she replied. "I must watch and weep, not +sleep. For the Scroll of Judgment is written and the Book of Life is +all but closed." + +With a pitying sigh the old man turned and left her alone for the +night in the Synagogue of Love and Mercy. + +For a few moments Rebecca sat, prayerless, her soul full of a strange +peace. Then she found herself counting the chimes as they rolled out +sonorously from a neighbouring steeple: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, +Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, TWELVE! + + * * * * * + +Starting up suddenly when the last stroke ceased to vibrate on the +air, Rebecca Grinwitz found, to her surprise, that a merciful sleep +must have overtaken her eyelids, that hours must have passed since +midnight had struck, and that the great Day of Atonement must have +dawned. Both compartments of the synagogue were full of the restless +stir of a praying multitude. With a sense of something vaguely +strange, she bent her eyes downward on her neighbour's _Machzor_. The +woman immediately pushed the prayer-book more toward Rebecca, with a +wonderful smile of love and tenderness, which seemed to go right +through Rebecca's heart, though she could not clearly remember ever +having seen her neighbour before. Nor, wonderingly stealing a first +glance around, could she help feeling that the entire congregation was +somewhat strange and unfamiliar, though she could not quite think why +or how. The male worshippers, too, why did they all wear the +shroud-like garments, usually confined on this solemn occasion to the +ministers and a few extra-devout personages? And had not some +transformation come over the synagogue? Was it only the haze before +her tear-worn eyes or did dim perspectives of worshippers stretch away +boundlessly on all sides of the clearly seen area, which still +retained the form of the room she knew so well? + +But the curious undercurrent of undefined wonder lasted but a moment. +In another instant she was reconciled to the scene. All was familiar +and expected; once more she was taking part in divine service with no +sorrowful thoughts of her husband coming to distract her, her whole +soul bathing in and absorbing the Peace of God which passeth all +understanding. Then suddenly she felt a stir of recollection coming +over her, and a stream of love warming her heart, and looking up at +her neighbour's face she saw with joyous content that it was that of +her mother. + +The service went on, mother and daughter following it in the book they +had in common. After several hours, during which the huge, +far-spreading congregation alternated with the Cantor in intoning the +beautiful poems of the liturgy of the day, the white curtain with its +mystic cabalistic insignia was rolled back from the Ark of the +Covenant and two Scrolls were withdrawn therefrom. Rebecca noted with +joy that the Ark was filled with Scrolls big and little, in rich +mantles, and that those taken out were swathed in satin beautifully +embroidered, and that the ornaments and the musically tinkling bells +were of pure gold. + +Then some of the worshippers were called up in turn to the _Al Memor_ +to be present at the reading of a section of the Law. They were all +well known to Rebecca. First came Moses ben Amram. He walked humbly up +to the _Al Memor_ with bowed head, his long _Talith_ enveloping him +from crown to foot. Rebecca saw his face well, for though it was +covered with a thick veil, it shone luminously through its draping. + +"Bless ye the Lord, who is blessed," said Moses ben Amram, the words +seeming all the sweeter from his lips for the slight stammering with +which they were uttered. + +"Blessed be the Lord, who is blessed to all eternity and beyond," +responded the endless congregation, in a low murmur that seemed to be +taken up and vibrated away and away into the infinite distances for +ever and ever. + +"Blessed be the Lord, who is blessed to all eternity and beyond," +echoed the melodious voice. Then, in words that seemed to roll and +fill the great gulfs of space with a choral music of sacred joy, Moses +continued, "Blessed be Thou, O Lord, our God, the King of the +Universe, who hath chosen us from all peoples, and given unto us His +Law. Blessed art Thou, O Lord, who givest the Law." + +After him came Aaron ben Amram, whose white beard reached to his +knees. Abraham ben Terah, Isaac ben Abraham, and Jacob ben Isaac--all +venerable figures, with faces which Rebecca felt were radiant with +infinite tenderness and compassion for such poor helpless children as +herself--were also called up, and after the Patriarchs, Elijah the +Prophet. Lastly came a white-haired, stooping figure, whose gait and +whose every gesture told Rebecca that it was her father. How glad she +felt to see him thus honoured! As she listened to his quavering tones +the dusty tombstones of dead years seemed rolled away, and all their +simple joys and griefs to live again, not quite as of yore, but +transfigured by some solemn pathos. + +When the reading of the Law was at an end, David ben Jesse, a +royal-looking graybeard, held up the Scroll to the four corners of +space, and it was rolled up by his son Solomon, the Preacher; the +carrying of it to the Ark being given to Rabbi Akiba, whose features +wore a strange, ecstatic look, as though ennobled by suffering. The +vast multitude rose with a great rustling, the sound whereof reached +afar, and sang a hymn of rejoicing, so that the whole universe was +filled with melody. Rebecca alone could not sing. For the first time +she missed her husband, Moshe. Why was he not here, like all the other +friends of her life, whose beloved faces surrounded her on every side +and made a sweet atmosphere of security for her soul? What was he +doing outside of this mighty assembly? Why was he not there to have +the sacred duty of carrying the Scroll entrusted to him? She felt the +tears pouring down her cheeks. She was ready to sink to the earth with +sudden lassitude. "Mother! dear mother!" she cried, "I feel so faint." + +"You must have some air, my child, my Rivkoly," said the mother, the +dearly remembered voice falling for the first time with ineffable +sweetness on Rebecca's ears. And she put out her hand, and lo! it grew +longer and longer, till it reached up to the skylight, and then +suddenly the whole roof vanished and the free air of heaven blew in +like celestial balm upon Rebecca's hot forehead. Yet she noted with +wonder that the holy candles burnt on steadily, unfluttered by the +refreshing breeze. And then, lo! the starless heavens above her opened +out in indescribable Glory. The Dark budded into ineffable Beauty; a +supernally pure, luminous Splendour, transcendently dazzling, filled +the infinite depths of the Firmament with melodious coruscations of +Infinite Love made visible, and white-winged hosts of radiant Cherubim +sang "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts, the whole earth is full +of His Glory." And all the vast congregation fell upon their faces and +cried "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts, the whole earth is full +of His Glory." And Moses ben Amram arose, and he lifted his hands +toward the Splendour and he cried, "Lord, Lord God, merciful and +gracious, long-suffering and full of kindness and truth. Lo, Thou +sealest the seals before the twilight. Seal Thy People, I pray Thee, +in the Book of Life, though Thou blot me out. Forgive them, and pardon +their transgressions for the sake of the merits of the Patriarchs and +for the sake of the merits of the Martyrs, who have shed their blood +like water and offered their flesh to the flames for the +Sanctification of the Name. Forgive them, and blot out their +transgressions." + +And all the congregation said "Amen." + +Then a surging wave of hope rose within Rebecca's breast, and it +lifted her to her feet and stretched out her arms toward the +Splendour. And she said: "Lord God, forgive Thou my husband, for he is +in the hand of the Tempter. Save him from the power of the Evil One +by Thine outstretched arm and Thy mighty hand. Save him and pardon +him, Lord, in Thine infinite mercy." Then a strange, dread, anxious +silence fell upon the vast spaces of the Firmament, till from the +heart of the Celestial Splendour there fell a Word that floated +through the Universe like the sweet blended strains of all sweet +instruments, a Word that mingled all the harmonies of winds and waters +and mortal and angelic voices into one divine cadence--_Salachti_. + +And with the sweet Word of Forgiveness lingering musically in her +charmed ears, and the sweet assurance at her heart that she, the poor, +miserable tailor's wife, despised and trodden under foot by the rich +and by the heathen around, could lean upon the breast of an Almighty +Father, who had prepared for her immortal glories and raptures amid +all her loved ones in a world where He would wipe the tears from off +all eyes, Rebecca Grinwitz awoke to find the bright morning sunshine +streaming in upon her and the fresh morning air blowing in upon her +fevered brow from the skylight which Reb Yitzchok had just opened. + + "_Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the + fowler._"--Psalm xci. 3. + +A shroud of newly fallen snow enveloped the dead earth, over which the +dull, murky sky looked drearily down. Within his fireless garret, +which was almost empty of furniture, Moshe Grinwitz lay, wasted away +to a shadow. His beard was unkempt, his cheek-bones were almost +fleshless, his feverish eyes large and staring, his side-curls tangled +and untended. There did not seem enough strength left in the frame to +resist a babe; yet, when he coughed, the whole skeleton was agitated +as though with galvanic energy. + +"Will he never come back?" he murmured uneasily. + +"Fear not; so far as lies in my power, I shall be with you always," +replied the voice of the hunchback as he entered the room. "But, alas! +I have little comfort to bring you. One pawnbroker after another +refused to advance anything on my waistcoat, and at last I sold it +right out for a few pence. See; here is some milk. It is warm." + +Moshe tried to clutch the jug, but fell back, helpless. A shade of +anxiety passed over his companion's face. "Have I miscalculated?" he +muttered. He held the jug to the sick man's lips, supporting his head +with the other. Moshe drank, then fell back, and pressed his friend's +hand gratefully. + +"Poor Moshe," said the hunchback. "What a shame I tossed into the +gutter the gold my father left me seven months ago! How could I +foresee you would be struck down with this long sickness?" + +"No, no, don't regret it," quavered Moshe, his white face lighting up. +"We had jolly old times, jolly old times, while the money lasted. Oh, +you've been a good friend to me--a good friend. If I had never known +you, I should have passed away into nothingness, without ever having +known the mad joys of wine and riot. I have had wild, voluptuous +moments of revelry and mirth. No power in heaven or hell can take away +the past. And then the sweet freedom of doing as you will, thinking as +you will, flying with wings unclogged by superstition--to you I owe it +all! And since I have been ill you have watched over me like--like a +woman." + +His words died away in a sob, and then there was silence, except when +his cough sounded strange and hollow in the bare room. Presently he +went on:-- + +"How unjust Rivkoly was to you! She once said"--here the speaker +laughed a little melancholy laugh--"that you were the _Satan Mekatrig_ +in person." + +"Poor afflicted woman!" said his friend, with pitying scorn. "In this +nineteenth century, when among the wise the belief in the gods has +died out, there are yet fools alive who believe in the devil. But she +could only have meant it metaphorically." + +The sick man shook his head. "She said the evil influence--of course, +it seemed evil to her--you wielded over her thoughts, and I suppose +mine, too, was more than human--was supernatural." + +"Oh, I don't say I'm not more strong-minded than most people. Of +course I am, or I should be howling hymns at the present moment. But +why does a soldier catch fire under the eye of his captain? What +magnetism enables one man to bewitch a nation? Why does one friend's +unspoken thought find unuttered echo in another's? Go to Science, +study Mesmerism, Hypnotism, Thought-Transference, and you will learn +all about Me and my influence." + +"Yes, Rivkoly never had any idea of anything outside her prayer-book. +Rivkoly--" + +"Mention not her name to me," interrupted the hunchback harshly. "A +woman who deserts her husband--" + +"She swore to go if I blew out the _Yom Kippur_ light. And I did." + +"A woman who goes out of her wits because her husband gets into his!" +sneered the other. "Doubtless her superstitious fancy conjured up all +sorts of sights in the dark. Ho! ho! ho!" and he laughed a ghastly +laugh. "Happily she will never come back. She's evidently able to get +along without you. Probably she has another husband more to her pious +taste." + +Moshe raised himself convulsively. "Don't say that again!" he +screamed. "_My_ Rivkoly!" Then a violent cough shook him and his white +lips were reddened with blood. + +The cold eyes of the hunchback glittered strangely as he saw the +blood. "At any rate," he said, more gently, "she cannot break the +mighty oath she sware. She will never come back." + +"No, she will never come back," the sick man groaned hopelessly. "But +it was cruel of me to drive her away. Would to G--" + +The hunchback hastily put his hand on the speaker's mouth, and +tenderly wiped away the blood. "When I am better," said Moshe, with +sudden resolution, "I will seek her out: perhaps she is starving." + +"As you will. You know she can always earn her bread and water at the +cap-making. But you are your own master. When you are rid of this +sickness--which will be soon--you shall go and seek her out and bring +her to abide with you." The words rang sardonically through the +chamber. + +"How good you are!" Moshe murmured, as he sank back relieved. + +The hunchback leaned over the bed till his gigantic brow almost +touched the sick man's, till his wonderful eyes lay almost on his. +"And yet you will not let me hasten on your recovery in the way I +proposed to you." + +"No, no," Moshe said, trembling all over. "What matters if I lie here +a week more or less?" + +"Lie here!" hissed his friend. "In a week you will lie rotting." + +A wild cry broke from the blood-bespattered lips! "I am not dying! I +am not dying! You said just now I should be better soon." + +"So you will; so you will. But only if we have money. Our last +farthing, our last means of raising a farthing, is gone. Without +proper food, without a spark of fire, how can you hold out a week in +this bitter weather? No, unless you would pass from the light and the +gladness of life to the gloom and the shadow of the tomb, you must be +instantly baptized." + +"_Shmad_ myself! Never!" said the sick man, the very word conjuring up +an intolerable loathing, deeper than reason; and then another violent +fit of coughing shook him. + +"See how this freezing atmosphere tells on you. You must take +Christian gold, I tell you. Thus only shall I be able to get you +fire--to get you fire," repeated the hunchback with horrible emphasis. +"You call yourself a disbeliever. If so, what matters? Why should you +die for a miserable prejudice? But you are no true infidel. So long as +you shrink from professing any religion under the sun, you still +possess a religion. Your unfaith is but foam-drift on the deep sea of +faith; but lip-babble while your heart is still infected with +superstition. Come, bid me fetch the priest with his crucifix and holy +water. Let us fool him to the top of his bent. Rouse yourself; be a +man and live." + +"No, no, brother! I will be a man and die." + +"Fool!" hissed the hunchback. "It fits not one who has lived for +months by Christian gold to be so nice." + +"You lie!" Moshe gasped. + +"The seven months that you and I have known each other, it is +Christian gold that has warmed you and fed you and rejoiced you, and +that, melted down, has flowed in your veins as wine. Whence, then, +took I the money for our riotings?" + +"From your father, you said." + +"Yes, from my spiritual father," was the grim reply. "No, having that +belief, which _you_ still lack, in the hollowness and mockery of all +save pleasure, I became a Christian. For a time they paid me well, but +as soon as I had been put on the annual report I had served my purpose +and the supplies fell off. I could be converted again in another town +or country, but I dare not leave you. But you are a new man, and +should I drag you into the fold they will reward us both well. Instead +of subsisting on dry bread and milk you will fare on champagne and +turtle-soup once more." + +Moshe sat up and gazed wildly one long second at the Tempter. He +looked at his own fleshless arms, and shuddered. He felt the icy hand +of Death upon him. He knew himself a young man still. Must he go down +into the eternal darkness, and be folded in the freezing clasp of the +King of Terrors, while the warm bosom of Life offered itself to his +embrace? No; give him Life, Life, Life, polluted and stained with +hypocrisy, but still Life, delicious Life. + +The steely eyes of the hunchback watched the contest anxiously. +Suddenly a change came over the wildly working face--it fell back +chill and rigid on the pillow, the eyes closed. The room seemed to +fill with an impalpable, brooding Vapour, as if a thick fog were +falling outside. The watcher caught madly at his friend's wrist and +sought to detect a pulsation. His eyes glowed with horrible exultant +relief. + +"Not yet, not yet, Brother Azrael," he said mockingly, as if +addressing the impalpable Vapour; "Thou who art wholly woven of Eyes, +canst Thou not see that it is not yet time to throw the fatal pellet +into his throat? Back, back!" + +The Vapour thickened. The minutes passed. The hunchback peered +expectant at the corpse-like face on the dingy pillow. At last the +eyes opened, but in them shone a strange, rapt expression. + +"Thank God, Rivkoly!" the dying lips muttered. "I knew thou wouldst +come." + +As he spoke there was a frantic beating at the door. The hunchback's +face was convulsed. + +"Hasten, hasten, Brother Azrael!" he cried. + +The Vapour lightened a little. Moshe Grinwitz seemed to rally. His +face glowed with eagerness. + +"Open the door! open the door!" he cried. "It's Rivkoly--my Rivkoly!" + +The vain battering at the door grew fiercer, but none noted it in the +house. Since the shadow of the hunchback had first fallen within that +thickly crowded human nest, the doves had become hawks, the hawks +vultures. All was discord and bickering. + +"Lie still," said the hunchback; "'tis but your fevered imagination. +Drink." + +He put the jug to the dying man's lips, but it was dashed violently +from his hand and shattered into a hundred pieces. + +"Give me nothing bought with Christian money!" gasped Moshe hoarsely, +his breath rattling painfully in his throat. "Never will I knowingly +gain by the denial of the Unity of God." + +"Then die like a dog!" roared the hunchback. "Hasten, Brother Azrael!" + +The Vapour folded itself thickly about the room. The rickety door was +shaken frantically, as by a great gale. + +"Moshe! Moshe!" shrieked a voice. "Let me in--me--thy Rivkoly! In +God's name, let me in! I bring thee a precious gift. Or art thou dead, +dead, dead? My God, why didst Thou not cause me to know he was ill +before!" + +"Your husband is dying," said the hunchback. "When he is dead, you +shall look upon his face. But he may not look upon your face again. +You have sworn it." + +"Devil!" cried the fierce voice of the woman. "I swore it on _Kol +Nidre_ night, when I had just asked the Almighty to absolve me from +all rash oaths. Let me in, I tell you." + +"I will not have a sacred oath treated thus lightly," said the +hunchback savagely. "I will keep your soul from sin." + +"Cursed be thou to eternity of eternities!" replied the woman. "Pray, +Moshe, pray for thy soul. Pray, for thou art dying." + +"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one," rose the sonorous +Hebrew. + +"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one," wailed the woman. +The very Vapour seemed to cling round and prolong the vibrations of +the sacred words. Only the hunchback was silent. The mocking words +died on his lips, and as the woman, with one last mighty blow, dashed +in through the flying door, he seemed to glide past her and melt into +the darkness of the staircase. + +Rivkoly heeded not his contorted, malignant visage, crowned with its +serpentine wreath of fiery hair; she flew straight through the heavy +Vapour, stooped and kissed the livid mouth, read in a moment the +decree of Death in the eyes, and then put something small and warm +into her husband's fast chilling arms. + +"Take it, Moshe," she cried, "and comfort thy soul in death. 'Tis thy +child, for God has at last sent us a son. _Yom Kippur_ night--now six +long months ago--I had a dream that God would forgive thee, and I was +glad. But when I thought to go home to thee in the evening, I learnt +that thou hadst been feasting all that dread Day of Atonement with the +_Satan Mekatrig_; and my heart fell, for I knew that my dream was but +the vain longing of my breast, and that through thine own misguided +soul thou couldst never be saved from the eternal vengeance. Then I +went away, far from here, and toiled and lived hard and lone; and I +believed not in my dream. But I prayed and prayed for thy soul, and +lo! very soon I was answered; for I knew we should have a child. And +then I entreated that it should be a son, to pray for thee, and +perhaps win thee back to God, and to say the _Kaddish_ after thee when +thou shouldst come to die, though I knew not that thy death was at +hand; and a few weeks back the Almighty was gracious and merciful to +me, and I had my wish." + +She ceased, her wan face radiant. The Shadow of Death could not chill +her sublime faith, her simple, trustful hope. The husband was clasping +the feebly whimpering babe to his frozen breast, and showering +passionate kisses on its unconscious form. + +"Rivkoly!" he whispered, as the tears rolled down his cheeks, "how +pale and thin thou art grown! O God, my sin has been heavy!" + +"No, no," she cried, her loving hand in his. "It was the _Satan +Mekatrig_ that led thee astray. I am well and strong. I will work for +our child, and train it up to pray for thee and to love thee. I have +named it Jacob, for it shall wrestle with the Recording Angel and +shall prevail." + +The hue of death deepened on Moshe Grinwitz's face, but it was +overspread by a divine calm. + +"Ah, the good old times we had at the _Cheder_ in Poland," he said. +"The rabbi was sometimes cross, but we children were always in good +spirits; and when the Rejoicing of the Law came round it was such fun +carrying the candles stuck in hollowed apples, and gnawing at your +candlestick as you walked. I always loved _Simchath Torah_, Rivkoly. +How long is it to the Rejoicing?" + +"It will soon be here again, now Passover is over," she said, pressing +his hand. + +"Is _Pesach_ over?" he said mournfully. "I don't remember giving +_Seder_. Why didst thou not remind me, Rivkoly? It was so wrong of +thee. Thou knowest how I loved the sight of the table--the angels +always seemed to hover about it. _Chad Gadyah! Chad Gadyah!_" he +commenced to sing in a cracked, hoarse whisper. The child burst into a +wail. "Hush, hush, Yaankely," said the mother, taking it to her +breast. + +"A--a--ah!" A wild scream rose from Moshe Grinwitz's lips. "My +_Kaddish_! Take not away my _Kaddish_!" He sat up, with clammy, +ghastly brow, and glared with sightless eyes, his arms groping. A thin +stream of blood oozed from his mouth. + +"Hear, O Israel!" screamed the woman, as she put her hand to his mouth +to stanch the blood. + +He beat her back wildly. "Not thee! I want not thee! My _Kaddish_!" +came the mad, hoarse whisper. "I have blasphemed God! Give me my +_Kaddish_! give me my _Kaddish_!" + +She put the child into his arms, and he clutched it in his dying +frenzy. As he felt its feeble form, the old divine peace came over his +face. The babe's cries were hushed in fear. The mother was dumb and +stony. And silently the Vapour crawled in sluggish folds through the +heavy air. + +But in a moment the silence was broken by a deep, stertorous rattle. +Moshe Grinwitz's head fell back; his arms relaxed their hold of his +child, which was caught with a wild cry to its mother's bosom. And the +dark Vapour lifted, and showed the three figures to the baleful, +agonized eyes of the hunchback at the open door. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +IX + +DIARY OF A MESHUMAD + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +IX + +DIARY OF A MESHUMAD[1] + + +_Tchemnovosk, Saturday (midnight)._--So! The first words have been +written. For the first time in my life I have commenced a diary. Will +it prove the solace I have heard it is? Shall I find these now cold, +blank pages growing more and more familiar, till I shall turn to them +as to a sympathetic friend; till this little book shall become that +loved and trusted confidant for whom my lonely soul longs? Instead of +either Black or White Clergy, this record in black and white shall be +my father confessor. Our village pope, to whom I have so often +confessed everything but the truth, would be indeed shocked, if he +could gossip with this, his new-created brother. What a heap of +roubles it would take to tranquillize him! Ah, God! _Ach_, God of +Israel! how is it possible that a man who has known the tenderest +human ties should be so friendless, so solitary in his closing years, +that not even in memory can he commune with a fellow-soul? Verily, the +old curse has wrought itself out, that penalty of apostasy which came +to my mind the other day after nearly forty years of forgetfulness, +that curse which has filled my spirit with shuddering awe, and driven +me to seek daily communion through thee, little book, even with my own +self of yesterday--"_And that soul shall be cut off from among its +people._" Yea, and from all others, too! For so many days and years +Caterina was my constant companion; I loved her as my own soul. Yet +was she but a sun that dazzled my eyes so that I could not gaze upon +my own soul; but a veil between me and my dead youth. The sun has sunk +forever below the horizon; the veil is rent. No phantom from the other +world hovers to remind me of our happiness. Those years, with all +their raptures and successes, are a dull blank. It is the years of +boyhood and youth which resurge in my consciousness; their tints are +vivid, their tones are clear. + +Why is this? Is it Caterina's death? Is it old age? Is it returning to +these village scenes after half a lifetime spent in towns? Is it the +sight of the _izbas_, and their torpid, tow-haired, sheepskin-clad +inhabitants, and the great slushy cabbage gardens, that has rekindled +the ashen past into colours of flame? And yet, except our +vodka-seller, there isn't a Jew in the place. However it be, +Caterina's face is filmy, phantasmal, compared with my mother's. And +mother died forty years ago; the grass of two short years grows over +my wife's grave. And Paul? He is living--he kissed me but a few +moments back. Yet _his_ face is far-away--elusive. The hues of life +are on my father's--poor, ignorant, narrow-minded, warm-hearted +father, whose heart I broke. Happily I have not to bear the +remembrance of his dying look, but can picture him as I saw him in +those miserable, happy days. My father's kiss is warm upon the lips +which my son's has just left cold. Poor St. Paul, living up there with +your ideals and your theories like a dove in a balloon! And yet, +_golubtchik_, how I love you, my handsome, gifted boy, fighting the +battle of life so pluckily and well! Ah! it is hard fighting when one +is hampered by a conscience. Is it your fault that the cold iron bar +of a secret lies between our souls; that a bar my own hands have +forged, and which I have not the courage or the strength to break, +keeps you from my inmost heart, and makes us strangers? No; you are +the best of sons, and love me truly. But if your eyes were purged, and +you could see the ugly, hateful thing, and through and beyond it, into +my ugly, hateful soul! Ah, no! That must never be. Your affection, +your reverential affection, is the only sacred and precious thing yet +left to me on earth. If I lost that, if my spirit were cut off even +from the semblance of human sympathy, then might the grave close over +my body, as it would have already closed over my soul. And yet should +I have the courage to die? Yes; for then Paul would know; Paul would +obey my wishes and see me buried among my people. Paul would hire +mourners (God! hired mourners, when I have a son!) to say the +_Kaddish_. Paul would do his duty, though his heart broke. Terrible, +ominous words! Break my son's heart as I did my father's! The +saints--_voi!_ I mean God--forfend! And for opposite reasons. _Ach_, +it is a strange world. Is religion, then, a curse, eternally dividing +man from man? No, I will not think these blasphemous thoughts. My +poor, brave Paul! + +To-morrow will be a hard day. + +_Sunday Night._--I have just read over my last entry. How cold, how +tame the words seem, compared with the tempest with which I am shaken. +And yet it _is_ a relief to have uttered them; to have given vent to +my passion and pain. Already this scrawl of mine has become sacred to +me; already this study in which I write has become a sanctuary to +which my soul turns with longing. All day long my diary was in my +thoughts. All my turbulent emotions were softened by the knowledge +that I should come here and survey them with calm; by the hope that +the tranquil reflectiveness which writing induces would lead me into +some haven of rest. And first let me confess that I am glad Paul goes +back to St. Petersburg on Tuesday. It is a comfort to have him here +for a few days, and yet, oh, how I dread to meet his clear gaze! How +irksome this close contact, with the rough rubs it gives to all my +sore places! How I abhorred myself to-day as I went through the +ghastly mimicries of prayer, and crossing myself, and genuflexion, in +our little church. How I hate the sight of its sky-blue dome and its +gilt minarets! When the pope brought me the Gospel to kiss, fiery +shame coursed through my veins. And then when I saw the look of humble +reverence on Paul's face as he pressed his lips to the silver-bound +volume, my blood was frozen to ice. Strange, dead memories seemed to +float about the incense-laden air; shadowy scenes; old, far-away +cadences. And when the deacon walked past me with his _bougie_, there +seemed to flash upon me some childish recollection of a joyous +candle-bearing procession, whereat my eyes grew filled with sudden +tears. The marble altar, the silver candlesticks, the glittering +jewelled scene faded into mist. And then the choir sang, and under the +music I grew calm again. After all, religions were made for men. And +this one was just fitted for the simple muzhiks who dotted the benches +with their stupid, good natured figures. They must have their +gold-bedecked gods in painting and image; and their saints in gold +brocade to kneel before at all hours to solace themselves with visions +of a brocaded Paradise. + +And yet what had I to do with these childish superstitions?--I whose +race preached the great doctrine of the Unity to a world sunk in vice +and superstition; whose childish lips were taught to utter the +_Shemang_ as soon as they could form the syllables; who _know_ that +the Christian creed is a monstrous delusion! To think that I have lent +the sanction of my manhood to these grotesque beliefs. Grotesque, say +I? when to Paul they are the essence of all lofty feeling and +aspiration! And yet I know that he is blind, or sees things with that +strange perversion of vision of which I have heard him accuse the +Jews--my brethren. He believes what he has been taught. And who taught +him? _Bozhe moi!_ was it not I who have brought him up in these +degrading beliefs, which he imagines I share? God! is this my +punishment, that he is faithful to the creed taught him by a father +who was faithless to his own? And yet there were excuses enough for +me, Thou knowest. Why did these forms and ceremonies, which now loom +beautiful to me through a mist of tears, seem hideous chains on the +free limbs of childhood? Was it my father's fault or my own that the +stereotyped routine of the day; that the being dragged out of bed in +the gray dawn to go to synagogue, or to intone in monotonous sing-song +the weary casuistries of the rabbis; that the endless precepts or +prohibitions, made me conceive religion as the most hateful of +tyrannies? Through the cloud of forty years I can but dimly recall +the violence of the repulsion with which things Jewish inspired me--of +how it galled me to feel that I was one of that detested race, that I +was that mockery and byword, a _Zhit_; that, with little sympathy with +my people, I was yet destined to partake of its burdens and its +disabilities. Bitter as my soul is within me to-day, I can yet +understand, can yet half excuse, that fatal mistake of ignorant and +ambitious youth. + +It were easy for me now to acknowledge myself a Jew, even with the +risk of Siberia before me. I am rich, I have some of the education for +which I longed, above all, I have _lived_. Ah, how differently the +world, with its hopes and its fears, and its praise and censure, looks +to the youth who is climbing slowly up the hill, and the man who is +swiftly descending to the valley! But the knowledge of the vanity of +all things comes too late; this, too, is vanity. Enough that I +sacrificed the sincerity and reality of life for unrealities, which +then seemed to me the only things worth having. There was none to +counsel, and none to listen. I fled my home; I was baptized into the +Church. At once all that hampered me was washed away. Before me +stretched the free, open road of culture and well-being. I was no +longer the slave of wanton laws, the laughing-stock of every Muscovite +infant, liable to be kicked and cuffed and spat at by every true +Russian. What mattered a lip-profession of Christianity, when I cared +as little for Judaism as for it? I never looked back; my prior life +faded quickly from my memory. Alone I fought the battle of +life--alone, unaided by man or hope in God. A few lucky speculations +on the Bourse, starting from the risking of the few kopecks amassed by +tuition, rescued me from the need of pursuing my law-studies. I fell +in love and married. Caterina, your lovely face came effectively +between me and what vague visions of my past, what dim uneasiness of +remorse, yet haunted me. You never knew--your family never knew--that +I was not a Slav to the backbone. The new life lay fold on fold over +the old; the primitive writing of the palimpsest was so thickly +written over, that no thought of what I had once been troubled me +during all those years of wedded life, made happier by your birth and +growth, my Paul, my darling Paul; no voice came from those forgotten +shores, save once, when--who knows through what impalpable medium?--I +learnt or divined my father's death, and all the air was filled with +hollow echoes of reproach. During those years I avoided contact with +Jews as much as I could; when it was inevitable, I made the contact +brief. The thought of the men, of their gabardines and their pious +ringlets, of their studious dronings and their devout quiverings and +wailings, of the women with their coarse figures and their unsightly +wigs; the remembrance of their vulgar dialect, and their shuffling +ways, and their accommodating morality, filled me with repulsion. As +if to justify myself to myself, my mind conceived of them only in +their meanest and tawdriest aspects. The black points alone caught my +eye, and linked themselves into a perfect-seeming picture. + +_Da_, I have been a good Russian, a good Christian. I have not stirred +my little finger to help the Jews in their many and grievous +afflictions. They were nothing to me. Over the vodka and the champagne +I have joined in the laugh against them, without even feeling I was of +them. Why, then, these strange sympathies that agitate me now; these +feelings, shadowy, but strong and resistless as the shadow of death? +Am I sane, or is this but incipient madness? Am I sinking into a +literal second childhood, in which all the terrors and the sanctities +that once froze or stirred my soul have come to possess me once more? +Am I dying? I have heard that the scene of half a century ago may be +more vivid to dying eyes than the chamber of death itself. Has +Caterina's death left a blank which these primitive beloved memories +rush in to fill up? Was it the light of her face that blinded me to +the dear homely faces of my father and mother? If I had not met her, +how would things have been? Should I have repented earlier of my +hollow existence? Was it the genuineness of her faith in her heathen +creed that made me acquiesce in its daily profession and its dominance +in our household life? And are the old currents flowing so strongly +now, only because they were so long artificially dammed up? Of what +avail to ask myself these questions? I asked them yesterday and I +shall be no wiser to-morrow. No man can analyze his own emotions, +least of all I, unskilled to sound the depths of my soul, content if +the surface be unruffled. Perhaps, after all, it is Paul who is the +cause of the troubling of the waters, which yet I am glad have not +been left in their putrid stagnation. For since Caterina's clay-cold +form was laid in the Moscow churchyard, and Paul and I have been +brought the nearer together for the void, my son has opened my eyes to +my baseness. The light that radiates from his own terrible nobleness +has shown me how black and polluted a soul is mine. My whole life has +been shuffled through under false colours. Even if I shared few of the +Jew's beliefs, it should have been my duty--and my proud duty--to +proclaim myself of the race. If, as I fondly believed, I was superior +to my people, then it behoved me to allow that superiority to be +counted to their credit and to the honour of the Jewish flag. My poor +brethren, sore indeed has been your travail, and your cry of pain +pierces the centuries. Perhaps--who knows?--I could have helped a +little if I had been faithful, as faithful as Paul will be to his own +ideals. Ah, if Paul had been a Jew--! My God! _is_ Paul a Jew? Have I +upon my shoulders the guilt of this loss to Judaism, too? + +Analyze myself, reproach myself, doubt my own sanity how I may, one +thing is clear. From the bottom of my heart I long, I yearn, I burn to +return to the religion of my childhood. I long to say and to sing the +Hebrew words that come scantily and with effort to my lips. I long to +join my brethren at prayer, to sit with them in the synagogue, in the +study, at the table; to join them in their worship and at their meals; +to share with them their joys and sorrows, their wrongs and their +inner delights. Laugh at myself how I will, I long to bind my arm and +brow with the phylacteries of old and to wrap myself in my fringed +shawl, and to abase myself in the dust before the God of Israel; nay, +to don the greasy gabardine at which I have mocked, and to let my hair +grow even as theirs. As yet this is all but a troubled aspiration, but +it is irresistible and must work itself out in deeds. It cannot be +argued with. The wind bloweth as it listeth; who shall say why I am +tempest-tossed? + +_Monday Night._--Paul has retired to rest to rise early to-morrow for +the journey to Moscow. For something has happened to alter his plans, +and he goes thither instead of to the capital. He is sleeping the +sleep of the young, the hopeful, and the joyous. _Ach_, that what +gives him joy should be to me--; but let me write down all. This +morning at breakfast Paul received a letter, which he read with a cry +of astonishment and joy. "Look, little father, look," he exclaimed, +handing it to me. I read, trying to disguise my own feelings and to +sympathize with his gladness. It was a letter from a firm of +well-known publishers in Moscow, offering to publish a work on the +Greek Church, the MS. of which he had submitted to them. + +"_Nu vot, batiushka_," said he, "I will tell you that this book +_donnera a penser_ to the theologians of the bastard forms of +Christianity." + +The ribald remark that rose to my lips did not pass them. "But why did +you not tell me of this before?" I asked instead, endeavouring to +infuse a note of reproach into my indifference. + +"Ah, father, I did not want you to distress yourself. I knew your +affection for me was so great that you might want to stint yourself, +and put yourself to trouble to help me to pay the expenses of +publication myself. You would have shared my disappointments. I wanted +you to share my triumph--as now. It is two years that I have been +trying to get it published. I wrote it in the year before mother, +whose soul is with the saints, left us. But, _eka!_ I am recompensed +at last." And his pale face beamed and his dark eyes flashed with +excitement. + +Yes, Paul was right. As Paul always is. Brought up, I think wisely, to +believe in my comparative poverty, he has become manlier for not +having a crutch to lean upon. Was it not enough that he was devoid +from the start of the dull, dead weight of Judaism which clogged my +own early years? Up to the present, though, he has not done so well as +I. Russian provincial journalism scatters few luxuries to its +votaries. Paul is so stupidly contented with everything that he is not +likely to write anything to make a sensation. He has not invented +gunpowder. + +Paul's voice broke in curiously on my reflections. "It ought to make +some sensation. I have collected a whole series of new arguments, +partly textual, partly historical, to show the absolute want of _locus +standi_ of any other than the Orthodox Church." + +"Indeed," I murmured, "and what _is_ the Orthodox Church?" Paul stared +at me. + +"I mean," I added hastily, "your conception of the Orthodox Church." + +"My conception?" said Paul. "I suppose you mean how do I defend the +conception which is embodied in our ceremonies and ritual?" And before +I could stop him, he had given me a summary of his arguments under +which I would not have kept awake if I had not been thinking of other +things. My poor boy! So this wire-drawn stuff about the Sacrament and +the Lord's Supper is what has cost you toilsome days and sleepless +nights, while to me the thought that I had embraced one variety of +Christianity rather than another had never before occurred. All forms +were the same to me, from Catholicism to Calvinism; the baptismal water +had glided from my back as from a duck's. True, I have lived with all +the conventional surroundings of my Christian fellow-countrymen, as I +have lived with the language of Russia on my lips, and subservient to +Russian customs and manners. But all the while I was neither a Russian +nor a Christian. I was a Jew. + +Every now and again I roused myself to laudatory assent to one of +Paul's arguments when I divined by his tone that it was due. But when +he wound up with a panegyric on "our glorious Russian State," and "our +little father, the Czar, God's Vicegerent on earth, who alone of +European monarchs incarnates and unites in his person Church and +State, so that loyalty and piety are one," I could not refrain from +pointing out that it was a pure fluke that Russia was "orthodox" at +all. + +"Suppose," said I, "Wladimir, when he made his famous choice between +the Creeds of the world, had picked Judaism? It all turned on a single +man's whim." + +"Father," Paul cried in a pained tone, "do not be blasphemous. +Wladimir was divinely inspired to dower his country with the true +faith. Just therein lay the wisdom of Providence in achieving such +great results through the medium of an individual. It is impossible +that God should have permitted him to incline his ear to the infidel +Israelite, who has survived to be at once a link with the past and a +living proof of the sterility of the soul that refuses the living +waters. The millions of holy Russia perpetuating the stubborn heresy +of the Jews--adopting an unfaith as a faith! The very thought makes +the blood run cold. Nay, then would every Russian deserve to be sunk +in squalor, dishonesty, and rapacity, even as every Jew." + +"Not every Jew, Paul," I remonstrated. + +"No, not perhaps every Jew in squalor," he assented, with a sarcastic +laugh; "for too many of the knaves have feathered their nests very +comfortably. Even the Raskolnik is more tolerable. And many of them +are not even Jews. The Russian Press is infested with these fellows, +who take the bread out of the mouths of honest Christians, and will +even write the leaders in the religious papers. Believe me, little +father, these Jewish scribblers who have planted their flagstaffs +everywhere have cost me many a heartache, many a disappointment." + +I could not help thinking this sentiment somewhat unworthy of my Paul, +though it threw a flood of light on the struggle, whose details he had +never troubled me with. I began to doubt my wisdom in sending so +unpractical a youth out into the battle of life, to hew his way as +best he might. But how was I to foresee that he would become a writing +man, that he would be tripped up at every turn by some clever Hebrew, +and that his aversion from the race would be intensified? + +"But surely," I said, after a moment of silence, "our Slavic +journalists are not all Christians, either." + +"They are not," he admitted sadly. "The Universities have much to +answer for. Instead of rigidly excluding every vicious book that +unsettles the great social and religious ideals of which God designed +Russia to be the exponent, the works of Spencer and Taine, and Karl +Marx and Tourguenieff, and every literary Antichrist, are allowed to +poison faith in the sap. The censor only bars the superficially +anti-Russian books. But there will come a reaction. A reaction," he +added solemnly, "to which this work of mine may, by the grace of God, +be permitted to contribute." + +I could have laughed at my son if I had not felt so inclined to weep. +Paul's pietism irritated me for the first time. Was it that _my_ +reaction against my past had become stronger than ever, was it that +Paul had never exposed his own narrowness so completely before? I know +not. I only know I felt quite angry with him. "And how do you know +there will ever be a reaction?" I asked. + +"Christ never leaves himself without a witness long," he answered +sententiously. "And already there are symptoms enough that the creed +of the materialist does not satisfy the soul. Look at our Tolstoi, who +is coming back to Christianity after ranging at will through the gaudy +pleasure-grounds of science and life; it is true his Christianity is +cast after his own formula, and that he has still much intellectual +pride to conquer, but he is on the right road to the fountain of +life. But, little father, you are unlike yourself this morning," he +went on, putting his hand to my hot forehead. "You are not well." He +kissed me. "Let me give you another cup of tea," he said, and turned +on the tap of the samovar with an air that disposed of the subject. + +I sipped at my cup to please him, remarking in the interval between +two sips as indifferently as I could, "But what makes you so bitter +against the Jews?" + +"And what makes you so suddenly their champion?" he retorted. + +"When have I championed them?" I asked, backing. + +"Your pardon," he said. "Of course I should have understood you are +only putting in a word for them for argument's sake. But I confess I +have no patience with any one who has any patience with these +bloodsuckers of the State. Every true Russian must abhor them. They +despise the true faith, and are indifferent to our ideals. They sneak +out of the conscription. They live for themselves, and regard us as +their natural prey. Our peasantry are corrupted by their brandy-shops, +squeezed by their money-lenders, and roused to discontent by the +insidious utterances of their peddlers, d----d wandering Jews, who +hate the Government and the Tschinn and everything Russian. When did a +Jew invest his money in Russian industries? They are a filthy, +treacherous, swindling set. Believe me, _batiushka_, pity is wasted +upon them." + +"Pity is never spent upon them," I retorted. "They are what the +Russians--what we Russians--have made them. Who has pent them into +their foul cellars and reeking dens? They work with their brains, and +you--we--abuse them for not working with their hands. They work with +their hands, and the Czar issues a ukase that they are to be driven +off the soil they have tilled. It is AEsop's fable of the wolf and the +lamb." + +"In which the wolf is the Jew," said Paul coolly. "The Jew can always +be trusted to take care of himself. His cunning is devilish. Till his +heart is regenerate, the Jew remains the Ishmael of the modern world, +his hand against every man's, every man's against his." + +"'Love thy neighbour as thyself,'" I quoted bitterly. + +"Even so," said Paul. "The Jew must be cut off, even as the Christian +must pluck out his own eye if it offendeth him. Christ came among us +to bring not peace but a sword. If the Kingdom of Christ is delayed by +these vermin, they must be poisoned off for the sake of Russia and +humanity at large." + +"Vermin, indeed!" I cried hotly, for I could no longer restrain +myself. "And what know you of these vermin of whom you speak with such +assurance? What know you of their inner lives, of their sanctified +homes, of their patient sufferings? Have you penetrated to their +hearths and seen the beautiful _naivete_ of their lives, their simple +faith in God's protection, though it may well seem illusion, their +unselfish domesticity, their sublime scorn of temptation, their +fidelity to the faith of their ancestors, their touching celebrations +of fast and festival, their stanchness to one another, their humble +living and their high respect for things intellectual, their +unflinching toil from morn till eve for a few kopecks of gain, their +heroic endurance of every form of torment, vilification, contempt--?" +I felt myself bursting into tears and broke from the breakfast table. + +Paul followed me to my room in amazement. In the midst of all my +tempest of emotion I was no less amazed at my own indiscretion. + +"What is the matter with you?" he said, clasping his arm around my +neck. "Why make yourself so hot over this accursed race, for whom, +from some strange whim or spirit of perverseness, you stand up to-day +for the first time in my recollection?" + +"It is true; why indeed?" I murmured, striving to master myself. After +all, the picture I had drawn was as ideal in its beauty as Paul's in +its ugliness. "_Nu_, I only wanted you to remember that they were +human beings." + +"_Ach_, there is the pity of it," persisted Paul; "that human beings +should fall so low. And who has been telling you of all these angelic +qualities you roll so glibly off your tongue?" + +"No one," I answered. + +"Then you have invented them. Ha! ha! ha!" And Paul went off into a +fit of good-humoured laughter. That laughter was a sword between his +life and mine, but I let a responsive smile play across my features, +and Paul went to his own room in higher spirits than ever. + +We met again at dinner, and again at our early supper, but Paul was +too full of his book, and I of my own thoughts to permit of a renewal +of the dispute. Even a saint, I perceive, has his touch of egotism, +and behind all Paul's talk of Russia's ideals, of the misconceptions +of their fatherland's function by feather-brained Nihilists and +Democrats possessed of that devil, the modern spirit, there danced, I +am convinced, a glorified vision of St. Paul floating down the vistas +of the future, with a nimbus of Russian ideals around his head. If he +has only put them as eloquently into his book as he talks of them he +will at least be read. + +But I have bred a bigot. + +And the more bigoted he is, the more my heart faints within me for the +simple, sublime faith of my people. Behind all the tangled network of +ceremony and ritual, the larger mind of the man who has lived and +loved sees the outlines of a creed grand in its simplicity, sublime in +its persistence. The spirit has clothed itself on with flesh, as it +must do for human eyes to gaze on it and live with it; and if, in +addition, it has swaddled itself with fold on fold of garment, even so +the music has not gone out of its voice, nor the love out of its eyes. + +As soon as Paul is gone to-morrow, I must plan out my future life. His +book will doubtless launch him on the road to fame and fortune. But +what remains for me? To live on as I am doing would be intolerable. To +do nothing for my people, either with voice or purse, to live alone in +this sleepy hamlet, cut off from all human fellowship, alienated from +everything that makes my neighbours' lives endurable--better death +than such a death-in-life. And yet is it possible that I can get into +touch again with my youth, that after a sort of Rip Van Winkle sleep, +I can take up again and retwine the severed strands? How shall my +people receive again a viper into its bosom? Well, come what may, +there must be an end to this. Even at this moment reproachful voices +haunt my ear; and in another moment, when I put down my pen to go to +my sleepless bed, I shall take care to light my bed-room candle before +extinguishing my lamp, for the momentary darkness would be filled with +impalpable solemnity bordering on horror. Flashes and echoes from the +ghostly world of my youth, the faces of my dead parents, strange +fragments of sound and speech, the sough of the wind in the trees of +the "House of the Living," the far-away voice of the Chazan singing +some melancholy tune full of heart-break and weirdness, the little +crowded Cheder where the rabbi intoned the monotonous lesson, the +whizz of the stone little Ivanovitch flung at my forehead because I +had "killed Christ"--. No, my nerves are not strong enough to bear +these visions and voices. + +All my life long I see now I have been reserved and solitary. Never +has any one been admitted to my heart of hearts--not even Caterina. +But now I must unburden my soul to some one ere I die. And to another +living soul. For this dead sheet of paper will not, I perceive, do +after all. + +_Saturday Night._--Nearly a week has passed since I wrote the above +words, and I am driven to your pages again. I would have come to you +last night, but suddenly I recollected that it was the Sabbath. I have +kept the Sabbath. I have prayed a few broken fragments of prayer, +recovered almost miraculously from the deeps of memory. I have rested +from every toil. I stayed myself from stirring up the fire, though it +was cold and I was shivering. And a new peace has come to me. + +I have heard from Paul; he has completed the negotiations with the +Moscow booksellers. The book is to have every chance. Of course, in a +way I wish it success. It cannot do much harm, and I am proud of Paul, +after all. What a rabbi he would have made! It seems these publishers +are also the owners of a paper, and Paul is to have some work on it, +which will give him enough to live upon. So he will stay in Moscow for +a few months and see his book through the press. He fears the distance +is too great for him to come to and fro, as he would have done had he +been at the capital. Though I know I shall long for his presence +sometimes in my strange reactions, yet on the whole I feel relieved. +To-morrow without Paul will be an easier day. I shall not go to +church, though honest old Clara Petroffskovna may stare and cross +herself in holy horror, and spoil the _borsch_. As for the +neighbours--let the _startchina_ and the _starostas_ and the retired +major from Courland, and even the bibulous Prince Shoubinoff, gossip +as they will. I cannot remain here now for more than a few weeks. +Besides, I can be unwell. No, on second thoughts, I shall not be +unwell. I have had enough of shuffling and deceit. + +_Sunday._--A day of horrible _ennui_ and despair. I tried to read the +Old Testament, of course in Russian, for Hebrew books I have none, and +it is doubtful whether I could read them if I had. But the black cloud +remained. It chokes me as I write. My limbs are as lead, my head +aches. And yet I know the ailment is not of the body. + +_Monday._--The depression persists. I made a little expedition into +the country. I rowed up the stream in a _duscehubka_. I tried to +forget everything but the colours of the forest and the sparkle of +the waters. The air was less cold than it has been for the last few +days, but the russet of the pine-leaves spoke to me only of melancholy +and decay. The sun set in blood behind the hills. Once I heard the +howl of the wolves, but they were far away. + +_Monday._--So. Just a week. Nicholas Alexandrovitch says I must not +write yet, but I _must_ fill up the record, even if in a few lines. It +is strange how every habit--even diary-keeping--enslaves you, till you +think only of your neglected task. Ah, well! if I have been ill, I +have been lucky in my period, for those frightful storms would have +kept me indoors. Nicholas Alexandrovitch says it was a _mild_ attack +of influenza. God preserve me from a severe one! And yet would it not +be better if it had carried me off altogether? But that is a cowardly +thought. I must face the future bravely, for my own hands have forged +my fate. How the writing trembles and contorts itself! I must remember +Nicholas's caution. He is a frank, good-hearted fellow, is our village +doctor, and I have had two or three talks with him from between the +bedclothes. I don't think friend Nicholas is a very devout Christian, +by the by; for he said one or two things which I should have taken +seriously, had I been what he thinks I am; but which had an audacious, +ironical sound to my sympathetic, sceptical ears. How funny was that +story about the Archimandrite of Czernovitch! + +_Thursday Afternoon._--My haste to be out of bed precipitated me back +again into it. But the actual pain has been small. I have grown very +friendly with Nicholas Alexandrovitch, and he has promised to spend +the evening with me. I am better now in body, though still troubled in +mind. Paul's silence has brought a new anxiety. He has not written for +twelve days. What can be the matter with him? I suppose he is +overworking himself. And now to hunt up my best cigarettes for +_Monsieur le medecin_. Strange that illness should perhaps have +brought me a friend. Nothing, alas! can bring me a confidant. + +_11 p.m._--Astounding discovery! Nicholas Alexandrovitch is a Jew! I +don't know how it was, but suddenly something was said; we looked at +each other, and then a sort of light flashed across our faces; we read +the mutual secret in each other's eyes; a magnetic impulse linked our +hands together in a friendly clasp, and we felt that we were brothers. +And yet Nicholas is a whole world apart from me in feeling and +conviction. How strange and mysterious is this latent brotherhood +which binds our race together through all differences of rank, +country, and even faith! For Nicholas is an agnostic of agnostics; he +is even further removed from sympathy with my new-found faith than the +ordinary Christian, and yet my sympathy with him is not only warmer +than, but different in _kind_ from, that which I feel toward any +Christian, even Caterina's brother. I have told him all. Yes, little +book, him also have I told all. And he sneers at me. But there lurks +more fraternity in his sneer than in a Christian's applause. We are +knit below the surface like two ocean rocks, whose isolated crests +rise above the waters. Nicholas laughs at there being any Judaism to +survive, or anything in Judaism worth surviving. He declares that the +chosen people have been chosen for the plaything of the fates, fed +with illusions and windy conceit, and rewarded for their fidelity with +torture and persecution. He pities them, as he would pity a dog that +wanders round its master's grave, and will not eat for grief. In fact, +save for this pity, he is even as I was until these new emotions rent +me. He is outwardly a Christian, because he could not live comfortably +otherwise, but he has nothing but contempt for the poor peasants whose +fever-wrung brows he touches with a woman's hand. He looks upon them +only as a superior variety of cattle, and upon the well-to-do people +here as animals with all the vices of the muzhiks, and none of their +virtues. For my Judaic cravings he has a good-natured mockery, and +tells me I was but sickening for this influenza. He says all my +symptoms are physical, not spiritual; that the loss of Caterina +depressed me, that this depression drove me into solitude, and that +this solitude in its turn reacted on my depression. He thinks that +religion is a secretion of morbid minds, and that my Judaism will +vanish again with the last traces of my influenza. And, indeed, there +is much force in what he says, and much truth in his diagnosis and +analysis of my condition. He advises me to take plenty of outdoor +exercise, and to go back again to one of the great towns. To go back +to Judaism, to ally one's self with an outcast race and a dying +religion is, he thinks, an act of folly only paralleled by its +inutility. The world will outgrow all these forms and prejudices in +time is his confident assurance, as he puffs tranquilly at his +cigarette and sips his Chartreuse. He points out, what is true enough, +that I am not alone in my dissent from the religion I profess; for, as +he epigrammatically puts it, the greatest Raskolniks[2] are the +Orthodox. The religious statistics of the Procurator of the State +Synod are, indeed, a poor index to the facts. Well, there is comfort +in being damned in company. I do not agree with him on any other +point, but he has done me good. The black cloud is partially +lifted--perhaps the trouble was only physical, after all. I feel +brighter and calmer than for months past. Anyhow, if I am to become a +Jew again, I can think it out quietly. Even if I could bear Paul's +contempt, there would always be, as Nicholas points out, great peril +for me in renouncing the Orthodox faith. True, it would be easy enough +to bribe the priest and the authorities, and to continue to receive +my eucharistical certificate. But where is the sacrifice in that? It +is hypocrisy exchanged for hypocrisy. And then what would become of +Paul's prospects if it were known his father was a _Zhit_? But I +cannot think of all this now. Paul's silence is beginning to fill me +with a frightful uneasiness. A presentiment of evil weighs upon me. My +dear dove, my _dusha_ Paul! + +_Friday Afternoon._--Still no letter from Paul. Can anything have +happened? I have written to him, briefly informing him that I have +been unwell. I shall ride to Zlotow and telegraph, if I do not hear in +a day or two. + +_Saturday Morning._--All petty and stupid thoughts of my own spiritual +condition are swallowed up in the thought of Paul. Ever selfish, I +have allowed him to dwell alone in a far-off city, exposed to all the +vicissitudes of life. Perhaps he is ill, perhaps he is half-starved on +his journalistic pittance. + +_Saturday Night._--A cruel disappointment! A letter came, but it was +only from my man of business, advising investment in some South +American loan. Have given him _carte blanche_. Of what use is my money +to me? Even Paul couldn't spend it now, with the training I have given +him. He is only fitted for the cowl. He may yet join the Black Clergy. +Why does he not write, my poor St. Paul? + +_Sunday._--Obedient to the insistent clamour of the bells, I +accompanied Nicholas Alexandrovitch to _church_, and mechanically +asked help of the Virgin at the street corner. For I have gone back +into my old indifference, as Nicholas predicted. I have given the +necessary orders. The _paracladnoi_ is ready. To-morrow I go to +Zlotow; thence I take the train for Moscow. He will not tell me the +truth if I wire.... The weather is bitterly cold, and the stoves here +are so small.... I am shivering again, but a glass of vodka will put +me right.... A knock.... Clara Petroffskovna has run to the door. Who +can it be? Paul? + +_Monday Afternoon._--No, it was not Paul. Only Nicholas +Alexandrovitch. He had heard in the village that I was making +preparations for a journey, and came to inquire about it, and to +reproach me for not telling him. He looked relieved when I told him it +was only to Moscow to look after Paul. I fancy he thought I had had a +fit of remorse for my morning's devotions, and was off to seek +readmission into the fold. Except our innkeeper, there is not a Jew in +this truly God-forsaken place. Of course, I don't reckon myself--or +the doctor. I wonder if our pope is a Jew! I laugh--but who knows? +Anyhow I am here, wrapped in my thickest fur cloak, while it is +Nicholas who is on the road to Moscow. He spoke truly in saying I was +too weak yet to undertake the journey--that springless _paracladnoi_ +alone is enough to knock a healthy man up; though whether he was +equally veracious in professing to have business to transact in +Moscow, I cannot say. _Da_, he is a good fellow, is my brother +Nicholas. To-morrow I shall know if anything has happened to my son, +to my only child. + +_Tuesday Night._--Thank God! A wire from Nicholas. "Have seen Paul. No +cause for uneasiness. Will write." Blessings on you, my friend, for +the trouble you have taken for me. I feel much better already. Paul +has, I suppose, been throwing himself heart and soul into this new +journalistic work, and has forgotten his loving father. After all, it +is only a fortnight, though it has seemed months. Anyhow, he will +write. I shall hear from him in a day or two now. But a sudden +thought. "Will write." Who will write? Paul or Nicholas? Oh, Paul; +Paul without doubt. Nicholas has told him of my anxiety. Yes. +To-morrow night or the next morning I shall have a letter from Paul. +All is well. + +If I were to tell Paul the truth, I wonder what he would say! I am +afraid I shall never know. + +_Thursday Noon._--A letter from Nicholas. I cannot do better than +place it here. + + "MY DEAR DEMETRIUS,--I hope you got my telegram and are at ease + again. I had a lively journey up here, travelling in company + with a Government _employe_, who is very proud of his country, + and of the Stanislaus cross round his neck. Such a pompous ass I + have never met; he beats even our friend, Prince Shoubinoff, in + his Sunday clothes, with the _barina_ on his arm. As you may + imagine, I drew him out like a telescope. I have many a droll + story for you when I return. To come to Paul. I made it my + business at once to call upon the publishers--it is one of the + largest firms here--and from them I learnt that your son was + still at the same address, in the _Kitai-Gorod_, as that given + in the first and only letter you have had from him. I did not + care about going there direct, for I thought it best that he + should be unaware of my presence, in case there should be + anything which it would be advisable for me to find out for your + information. However, by haunting the neighbourhood of the + offices of his newspaper, I caught sight of him within a couple + of hours. He has a somewhat over-wrought expression in his + countenance, and does not look particularly well. I fancy he is + exciting himself about the production of his book. He has not + seen me yet, nor shall I let him see me till I ascertain that he + is not in any trouble. It is only his silence to you that makes + me fancy something may be the matter; otherwise I should + unhesitatingly put down his pallor and intensity of expression + to over-work and, perhaps, religious fervour. He went straight + to the Petrovski Cathedral on leaving the offices. I am here for + a few days longer, and will write again. It is frightfully cold. + The thermometer is at freezing point. I sit in my _shuba_ and + shiver. _Au revoir._ + + "NICHOLAS ALEXANDROVITCH." + +There is something not quite satisfying about this letter. It looks as +if there was more beneath the surface. Paul is evidently looking ill +or ecstatic, or both. But, at any rate, my main anxiety is allayed. I +can wait with more composure for Nicholas's second letter. But why +does not the boy write himself? He must have got the letter telling +him I had been unwell. And yet not a word of sympathy! I don't half +like Nicholas's idea of playing the spy, though, as if my son is not +to be trusted. What can he suspect? But Nicholas Alexandrovitch +dearly loves to invent a mystery for the sake of ferreting it out. +These scientific men are so sharp that they often cut themselves. + +_Friday Afternoon._--At last Paul has written. + + "MY DARLING PAPASHA,--I am surprised you should be anxious about + me. I am quite comfortable here, and have now conquered all the + difficulties that beset me at the first. How came you to allow + yourself to be unwell? I hope Nicholas Alexandrovitch is taking + care of you. By the by, I almost thought I saw him here this + morning on the bridge, looking over into the _reka_, but there + was a church procession, and I had hurried past the man before + the thought struck me, and the odds were so much against its + being our _zemski-doktor_, that I would not trouble to turn + back. I have already corrected the proofs of several sheets of + my book. It will be dedicated, by special permission, to + Archbishop Varenkin. My articles in the _Courier_ are attracting + considerable attention. I have left orders for the publishers to + send you my last, which will appear to-morrow. May the holy + Mother and the saints watch over you. + + --Your devoted son, PAUL. + + "P.S.--I am making more money than I want, and I shall be glad + to send you some, if you have any wants unsupplied." + +My darling boy! How could I ever have felt myself alienated from you? +I will come to you and live with you and share your triumphs. No +miserable scruples shall divide our lives any more. The past is +ineradicable; the future is its inevitable fruit. So be it. My +spiritual yearnings and wrestlings were but the outcome of a morbid +physical condition. Nicholas was right. And now to read my son's +article, which I have here, marked with a blue border. Why should I, +with my superficial ponderings, be right and he wrong? + +_Saturday Night._--I have a vague remembrance that three stars marked +the close of the Sabbath. And here in the frosty sky I see a whole +host scintillating in the immeasurable depths. The Sabbath is over and +once more I drag myself to my writing desk to pour out the anguish of +a tortured spirit. All day I have sat as in a dumb trance gazing out +beyond the _izbas_ and the cabbage fields toward the eternal hills. +How beautiful and peaceful everything is! God, wilt Thou not impart to +me the secret of peace? + +Little did I divine what awaited my eyes when they rested fondly on +the first sentence of Paul's article. _Voi_, it was a pronouncement on +the Jewish question, venomous, scathing, mordant, terrific. It was an +indictment of the race, lit up with all the glow of moral indignation; +cruel and slanderous, yet noble and righteous in its tone and ideals; +base as hell, yet pure as heaven; breathing a savagery as of +Torquemada, and a saintliness as of Tolstoi. Paul in every line, my +own noble, bigoted, wrong-headed Paul. As I read it, my whole frame +trembled. A corresponding passion and indignation stirred my blood to +fever-heat. All my slumbering Jewish instincts woke again to fresh +life; and I knew myself for the weak, miserable wretch that I am. To +think that a son of mine should thus vilify his own race. What can I +do? _Bozhe moi_, what can I do? How can I stop this horrible, +unnatural thing? I dare not open Paul's eyes to what he is doing. And +yet it is my duty.... It is my duty. By that token I know I shall not +do it. Heaven have pity on me! + +_Tuesday._--Heaven have pity on Paul! Here is Nicholas's promised +letter. + + "DEAR DEMETRIUS,--I have strange news for you. It is quite + providential (I use the word without prejudice, as the lawyers + say) that I came here. But all is well now, so you may read what + follows without alarm. Last Thursday morning, during my + purposeful wanderings within Paul's usual circuit, I came face + to face with our young gentleman. His eyes stared straight at me + without seeing me. His face was ghastly white, and the lines + were rigid as if with some stern determination. His lips were + moving, but I could not catch his mutterings. He held a sealed + letter in his hand. I saw the superscription. It was addressed + to you. Instantly the dread came to my mind that he was about to + commit suicide, and that this was his farewell to you. I + followed him. He posted the letter at the post-office, turned + back, threaded his way like a somnambulist across the bridge, + without, however, approaching the parapet, walked mechanically + onward to his own apartments, put the latch-key into the + house-door, and then fell back in a dead faint--into my arms. I + took him upstairs, explained what had happened, put him to bed, + and--I write this from the bedside. For the crisis is over now; + the brain fever has abated, and he has now nothing to do but to + get well, though he will be longer about it than a young fellow + of his age has a right to be. His body is emaciated with fasts + and vigils and penances. I curse religion when I look at him. As + if the struggle for life were not hard enough without humanity + being hampered by these miserable superstitions. But you will be + wanting to know what is the matter. Well, _batiushka_, what + should be the matter but the old, old matter? _La femme_ is, + strange to relate, a fine specimen of our own race of lovely + women, my dear Demetrius. She is a Jewess of the most orthodox + family in Moscow, and therein lies the crux of the situation. (I + am not playing upon words, but the phrase is doubly significant + here.) Of course Paul has not the slightest idea I know all + this; but of course I have had it from his hot lips all the + same. As far as I have been able to piece his broken utterances + together, they have had some stolen love passages, each followed + by swift remorse on both sides, and--another furtive love + passage. Paul has been comparing himself to St. Anthony, and + even to Jesus, when Satan, _ce chef admirable_, spread a + first-class dinner in the wilderness. But the poor lad must have + suffered much behind all his heroics. And what his final + resolution to give her up cost him is pretty evident. I suppose + he must have told you of it in that letter. Isn't it the oddest + thing in the world? Rachel Jacobvina is the girl's name, and her + people keep a clothes' store round the corner, and her father is + the Parnass (you will remember what that means) of his + synagogue. She is a sweet little thing; and Paul evidently has a + taste for other _belles_ than _belles-lettres_. From what you + told me of him I fully expected this sort of thing. The poor + fellow is looking at me now from among his iced bandages with a + piteous air of resignation to the will of Nicholas + Alexandrovitch in bringing him back to this world of trouble + when he already felt his wings sprouting. Poor Paul! He little + dreams what I am writing; but he will get over this, and marry + some fair, blue-eyed Circassian with corresponding tastes in + fasting, and an enthusiastic longing for the Kingdom of God, + when the year shall be a perpetual Lent. In his failure to + realize history, he thinks it a crime to adore a Jewish virgin, + though he spends half his time in adoring the Madonna. How + shocked he would be if I pointed this out! People who look + through ecclesiastical spectacles so rarely realize that the + Holy Family was a Jewish one. But my pen is running away with + me, and our patient looks thirsty. _Proshchai_. + + "NICHOLAS." + + "P.S.--There is not the slightest danger of a relapse unless the + image of this diabolical girl comes before him again. And I + keep his attention distracted. Besides, he had finally conquered + his passion. This illness was at once the seal and the witness + of his unchangeable resolve. I have heard him repeat the terms + of the letter of farewell he sent her. It was final." + +So this was the meaning of your silence; this the tragedy that lay +behind your simple sentence, "I have now conquered all the +difficulties which beset me at the first." This was the motive that +guided your hand to write those bitter lines about our race, so that +you might henceforth cut yourself off from the possibility of allying +yourself with it even in thought. I understand all now, my poor +high-mettled boy. How you must have suffered! How your pride must have +rebelled at the idea that you might have to make such a confession to +me--little knowing I should have hailed it with delight. That +temptation should have assailed you, too, at such a period--when you +were publishing your great work on the ideals of Holy Russia! +Mysterious, indeed, are the ways of Providence. And yet why may not +all be well after all, and Heaven grant me such grace as I would +willingly sacrifice my life to deserve? It is impossible that my son's +passion can be utterly dead. Such fires are only covered up. I will go +to him and tell him all. The news that he is a Jew will revolutionize +him. His love will flame up afresh and take on the guise and glamour +of duty. Love, posing as logic, will whisper in his ear that no bars +of early training can avail to keep him from the race to which he +belongs by blood and by his father's faith. In this girl's eyes he +will read God's message of command, and I, God's message of Peace and +Reconciliation. The tears are in my eyes; I can hardly see to write. +The happiness I foresee is too great. Blessings on your sweet face, +Rachel Jacobvina, my own darling daughter that is to be. To you is +allotted the blessed task of solving a fearful problem, of rescuing +and reuniting two human lives. Yes, Heaven is indeed merciful. +To-morrow I start for Moscow. + +_Thursday._--How can I write it? No, there is no pity in Heaven. The +sky smiles in steely blankness. The air cuts like a knife. Paul is +well, or as well as a convalescent can be. He must have had a heart of +ice. But it is fortunate he had, seeing what the icy fates have +wrought. I arrived at Moscow, and hurried in a _droshky_ across the +well-known bridge to Paul's lodgings. A ghastly procession stopped me. +Some _burlaks_ were bearing the corpse of a young girl who had thrown +herself into the ice-laden river. A clammy foreboding gathered at my +heart, but ere I had time to say a word, an old, caftan-clad man, with +agonized eyes and a white, streaming beard, dashed up, pulled off the +face-cloth, revealing a strange, weird loveliness, uttered a scream +which yet rings in my ears, threw himself passionately on the body, +rose up again, murmured something solemnly and resignedly in Hebrew, +rent his garments, readjusted the face-cloth, and followed weeping in +the rear. And from lip to lip, that for once forgot to curl in scorn, +flew the murmur: "Rachel Jacobvina." + +_Saturday Night._--I slouched into the synagogue this morning, the +cynosure of suspicious eyes. I nearly uncovered my head in +forgetfulness. Somebody offered me a _Talith_, which I wrapped round +myself with marked awkwardness. The service moved me beyond measure. I +have neither the pen nor the will to describe my sensations. I was a +youth again. The intervening decades faded away. Rachel's father said +the _Kaddish_. The peace of God has touched my soul. Paul is asleep. I +have made Nicholas take his much-needed rest. I am reading the Hebrew +Psalms. The language comes back to me bit by bit. + +_Monday._--Paul is sitting up reading--proofs. I have been to condole +with Rachel's father, as he sat mourning upon the ground. I explained +that I was a stranger in the town, and had heard of the accident. I +have given five hundred roubles to the synagogue. The whole +congregation is buzzing with the generosity of the rich Jewish farmer +from the country. Fortunately there is no danger of Paul hearing +anything of my doings. He is a prisoner; and Nicholas and myself keep +watch over him by turns. + +_Tuesday._--I have just come from a meeting of the Palestine +Colonization Society. Heavens, what ideals burn in these breasts +supposed to throb only with cupidity and cunning! Their souls still +turn to the Orient, as the needle turns to the pole. And how the +better-off among them pity their weaker brethren! With what enthusiasm +they plot and plan to get them beyond the frontier into freer +countries, but chiefly into the centre of all Jewish aspiration, the +Holy Land! How they wept when I doubled their finances at a stroke. My +poor, much-wronged brethren! + + * * * * * + +_Odessa, Monday._--It is almost a year since I closed this book, and +now, after a period of peace, I am driven to it again. Paul has made +an irruption into my tranquil household. For eleven months now I have +lived in this little two-storied house overlooking the roadstead, with +Isaac and the _ekonomka_ for my sole companions. So long as I could +pour my troubles into the ear of the venerable old rabbi (who was +starving for material sustenance when I took him, as I was for +spiritual), so long I had no need of you, my old confidant. But this +visit of Paul has reopened all my sores. I have smuggled the rabbi out +of the way; but even if he were here, he could not understand the +terrible situation. The God of Israel alone knows what I feel at +having to deny Him, at having to hide my faith from my own son. He +must not stay. The New Year is nigh, with its feasts and fasts. +Moreover, surrounded as one is by spies, Paul's presence here may +lead to discoveries that I am not what the authorities imagine. +Perhaps it would have been better if I had gone back to the village. +But no. There was that church-going. A village is so small. In this +great and bustling seaport I am lost, or comparatively so. A few +roubles in the ecclesiastical palm, and complete oblivion settles on +me. + +To-night I shall know to what I owe this sudden visit. Paul is +radiant. He plays with his untold news like a child with a new toy. He +drops all sorts of mysterious hints. He frisks around me like a fond +spaniel. But he reserves his tit-bit for to-night, when the tramp of +the sailors and the perambulating peasantry shall have died away, and +we shall be seated cosily in my study, smoking our cigarettes, and +looking out toward the quiet lights of the shipping. Of course it is +good news--Heaven help me, I fear Paul's good news. Good news that +Paul has come all the way from St. Petersburg to tell me, which only +his own lips may tell me, must, if past omens speak truly, be +terrible. God grant I may survive the telling. + +What a coward I am! Have I not long since made up my mind that Paul +must go his way and I mine? What difference, then, can his news make +to me? He will never know now that I am a _Zhit_ unless he hears it +from my dying lips as I utter the declaration of the Unity. I made up +my mind to that when I came here. Paul threatens to make his mark as +a writer on theological subjects. To tell him the truth would only +sadden him and do him no good; while to reveal my own Judaism to the +world would but serve to damage him and injure his prospects. This may +seem but a cover for my cowardice, for my fear of State reprisals; but +it is true for all that. _Bozhe moi_, is it not punishment enough not +to be able to join my brethren in their worship? I must remain here, +where I am unknown, practising my religion unostentatiously and in +secret. The sense of being in a Jewish city satisfies my soul. We are +here more than a fourth of the population. House-rent and fuel are +very dear, but we thrive and prosper, thanks to God. I give to our +poor, through Isaac, but they hardly want my help. I rejoice in the +handsome synagogues, though I dare not enter them. Yes, I am best +here. Why be upset by my boy's visit? Paul will tell me his news, I +shall congratulate him, he will go back to the capital, and all will +be as before. + +_Monday Midnight._--No, all can never be as before. One last step +remained to divide our lives to all eternity. _Voi_, Paul has taken +it. + +All came off as arranged. We sat together at my window. It was a +glorious night, and a faint, fresh wind blew in from the sea. The +lights in the harbour twinkled, the stars glistened in the sky. But as +Paul told me his good news, the whole horizon was one great flame +before my eyes. He began by recapitulating, though with fuller details +than was possible by letter, what I knew pretty well already; the +story of the great success of his book, which had been reviewed in all +the theological magazines of Europe, and had gone through four +editions in the year, and been translated into German and Italian; the +story of how he had been encouraged to come to St. Petersburg, and how +he had prospered on the press there. And then came the grand news--he +was offered the editorship of the _Novoe Vremia_, the great St. +Petersburg paper! + +In an instant I realized all it meant, and in my horror I almost +fainted. Paul would direct this famous Government and anti-Semitic +organ, Paul would pen day after day those envenomed leaders, goading +on the mob to turn and rend their Jewish fellow-citizens, denying them +the rights of human beings. Paul would direct the flood of sarcasm and +misrepresentation poured forth day after day upon my inoffensive +brethren. The old anguish with which I had read that article a year +ago returned to me; but not the old tempest of wrath. By sheer force +of will I kept myself calm. A great issue was at stake, and I nerved +myself for the contest. + +"Paul," said I, "you are a lucky fellow." I kissed him on the brow +with icy lips. He saw my great emotion, but felt it was but natural. + +"_Da_," said he, "I am a lucky fellow. It is a great thing. Few men +have had such an opportunity at twenty-five." + +"_Nutchozh?_ And how do you propose to utilize it?" I asked. + +"_Och_, I must conduct the paper on the same general lines," he said; +"of course, with improvements." + +"Amongst the latter the omission of the anti-Semitic bias, I hope." + +He stared at me. "Certainly not. The proprietors make its continuance +on the same general lines a condition. They are very good. They even +guard me against possible prosecutions by paying a handsome salary to +a man of straw. _Ish-lui_, it is a fine berth that I've got." + +Should I tell him the thing was impossible--that he was a Jew? No; +time for that when all other means had failed. "_Och_, you have +accepted it?" I said. + +"Of course I have, father. Why should I give them time to change their +minds?" + +"I should have thought you would have consulted me first." + +"_Nu, uzh_, I have never consulted you yet about accepting work," he +said in a wondering, disappointed tone. + +"_Nuka_, but this puts you finally into a career, does it not?" + +"Certainly. That is why I accepted it, and I thought you would be +glad." + +"That is why you should have refused it. But I _am_ glad all the +same." + +"I do not understand you, father." + +"_Nuka_, _golubtchik_, listen," I said in my most endearing tone, +drawing my arm round his neck. "Your struggles for existence were but +struggles for the sake of the struggle. You are not as other young +men. You have succeeded; and the moment you win the prize is the +moment for retiring gracefully, leaving it in the hands of him who +needs it. Your fight was but a game I allowed you to play. You are +rich." + +"Rich?" + +"Rich! Nearly all my life I have been a wealthy man. I own land in +every part of Russia; I hold shares in all the most successful +companies. I have kept this knowledge from you so that you might enjoy +your riches more when you knew the truth." + +"Rich?" He repeated the word again in a dazed tone. "_Ach_, why did I +not know this before?" + +"You had not succeeded. You had not had your experience, my son, my +dearest Paul. But now your work is over, or rather your true work +begins. Freed from the detestable routine of a newspaper office, you +shall write your books and work out your ideas at leisure, and +relieved from all material considerations." + +"_Da_, it would have been a beautiful ideal--once," he said; then +added fiercely: "Rich? And I did not know it." + +"But you were the happier for your ignorance." + +"No, father. The struggle is too terrible. Often have I sat and wept. +_Ish-lui_, time after time my book--destined as it was to +success--came back to me from the publishers. And I could have +produced it myself all along!" + +Pangs of remorse agitated me. Had my plan been, indeed, a failure? +"But you have the pride of unhelped success." + +"And the bitter memories. And once--" He paused. + +"Once?" I said. + +"Once I loved a girl. She is dead now, so it doesn't matter. There +were many and complicated obstacles to our union. With money they +would have been overcome." + +"Poor boy!" I said wonderingly, for I knew nothing of this apparently +new love episode. "Forgive me, my son, if I have acted mistakenly. +Anyhow, from this moment your happiness is my sole care." + +"No," he said, with sudden determination. "It is too late now. You +meant it for the best, _papasha_. But I do not want the money now. I +have money of my own--and glory. Why should I give up what my own +hands have won?" + +"Because I ask it of you, Paul; because I ask you to allow me to make +reparation for the mischief I have done." + +"The truest reparation will be to let things go unrepaired," he said, +with a touch of sarcasm. "I shall be happier as editor of this paper. +What finer medium for my ideas than a great newspaper? What more +potent lever to my hand for raising Holy Russia to a yet higher plane? +No, father. Let bygones be bygones. Give my share of your wealth to a +society for helping struggling talent. I struggle no longer. Leave me +to go on in the path my pen has carved out." + +I fell at his feet and begged him to let me have my way, but some +obstinate demon seemed to have taken possession of his breast. I +opened my desk and showered bank-notes upon him. He spurned them, and +one flew out into the night. Neither of us put out a hand to arrest +its flight. + +I saw that nothing but the truth had any chance to alter his resolve. +But I played one more card before resorting to this dangerous weapon. + +"Listen, my own dearest Paul," I burst out. "If money will not tempt +you, let a father's petition persuade you. Learn, then, that I dread +your taking this position because you will perpetually have to attack +the Jews--" + +"As they deserve," he put in. + +"Be it so. But I--I have a kindness for this oppressed race." + +He looked at me in silence, as if awaiting further explanation. I +gave it, blurting out the shameful lie with ill-concealed confusion. + +"Once upon a time I--I loved a Jewess. I could not marry her, of +course. But ever since that time I have had a soft place in my heart +for her unhappy race." + +A look of surprise flashed into Paul's eyes. Then his face grew +tender. He took my hand in his. + +"Father, we have a common sorrow," he said. "The girl I spoke of was a +Jewess." + +"How?" I exclaimed, surprised in my turn. It was the same affair, +then. + +"Yes, she was a Jewess. But I taught her the truth. Christ was +revealed to her prisoned soul. She would have fled with me if we had +had the means, and if I had been able to support her in some other +country. But she did not dare be baptized and stay in Moscow or +anywhere near. She said her father would have killed her. The only +alternative was for me to embrace Judaism. Impossible as you may think +it, father, and I confess it to my eternal shame, at the very period I +was correcting the proofs of my book, I was wrestling with a +temptation to embrace this Satanic heresy. But I conquered the +temptation. It was easy to conquer. To renounce the faith which was my +blessed birthright would, as you know, have cost me dear. Selfishness +warred for once on the side of salvation. Rachel wished to fly with +me. I knew she would have been poor and unhappy. I refused to take +advantage of her girlish impetuousness. I heard afterward that she had +drowned herself." The tears rained down his cheeks. + +"We had arranged to wait till I could save a stock of money. _Voi_, +the delay undid us. One day Rachel's father called on me. He had got +wind of our secret. He fell at my feet and tore his hair, and wept and +conjured me not to darken his home and his life. A Jewess could only +wed a Jew, he said. If I had only been born a Jew all would have been +well. But his Rachel had, perhaps, talked of becoming a Christian. Did +I not know that was impossible? As well expect the sheep to howl like +the wolf. Blood was thicker than baptismal water. Her heart would +always cleave to her own religion. And was my love so blind as not to +see that even if she spoke of Christianity it was only to please me? +that she only kissed the crucifix that I might kiss her, and knelt to +the Virgin that I might kneel to her? At home, he swore it with +fearful oaths, she was always bitterly sarcastic at the expense of the +true faith. I believed him. My God, I believed him! For at times I had +feared it myself. I would be no party to such carnal blasphemy, and +charged him with a note of farewell. When he went I felt as if I had +escaped from a terrible temptation. I fell on my knees and thanked the +saints." + +"But why did you not tell me this at the time?" I cried in intolerable +anguish. + +"_Nu_; to what end? It would only have worried you. I did not know you +were rich." + +"And at this time you offered to send _me_ money!" I said, with sudden +recollection. + +"Since I had not enough, you might as well have some of it. Anyhow, +father, you see all this has made no difference to me. I shall never +marry now, of course; but it hasn't altered the opinion I have always +had of the Jews--rather corroborated it. Rachel told me enough of the +superstitious slavery amid which she was forced to live. I have no +doubt now that her father lied. But for his pigheaded tribalism, +Rachel would have been alive to-day. So why your love for a Jewish +girl should make you tender to the race I do not see, dearest father. +There are always exceptions to everything--Rachel was one; the woman +you loved was another. And now it is very late; I think I will go to +bed." + +He kissed me and went out at the door. Then he came back and put his +head inside again. A sweet, sad, winning smile lit up his pale, +thoughtful face. + +"I will put you on the free list of the _Novoe Vremia_, father," he +said. "Good-night, _papasha_." + +What could I say? What could I do? I called up a smile to my trembling +lips. + +"Good-night, Paul," I said. + +I shall never tell him now. + +_Tuesday, 3 a.m._--I reopen these pages to note an ironic climax to +this bitter day. Through the excitement of Paul's coming I had not +read my letters. After sitting here in a numb trance for hours, I +suddenly bethought me of them. One is from my business man, informing +me that he has just sold the South American stock, respecting which I +gave him _carte blanche_. I go to bed richer by five thousand roubles. + + * * * * * + +_Odessa, Wednesday Night._--Six months have passed. I am on the free +list of the _Novoe Vremia_. Almost every day brings me a fresh stab as +I read. But I am a "constant reader." It is my penance, and I bear it +as such. After a long silence, I have just had a letter from Nicholas +Alexandrovitch, and I reopen my diary to note it. He is about to marry +a prosperous widow, and is going over to Catholicism. He writes he is +very happy. Lucky, soulless being. He does not know he will be a +richer man when I die. Happily, I am ready, though it were to-day. My +peace is made, I hope, with God and man, though Paul knows nothing +even now. He could not fail to learn it, though, if he came to Odessa +again. I have bribed the spies and the clergy heavily. Thanks to their +silence, I am one of the most prominent Jews of the town, and nobody +dreams of connecting me with the trenchant editor of the _Novoe +Vremia_. I see now that I could have acted so all along, if I had not +been such a coward. But I keep Paul away. It is my last cowardice. In +a postscript Nicholas writes that Paul's articles are causing a great +sensation in the remotest parts of Russia. Alas, I know it. Are there +not anti-Jewish riots in all parts, encouraged by cruel Government +measures? Do not the local newspapers everywhere reproduce Paul's +printed firebrands? Have I not the pleasure of coming across them +again in our own Odessa papers, in the _Wiertnik_ and the _Listok_? I +should not wonder if we had an outbreak here. There was a little +affray yesterday in the _pereouloks_ of the Jewish quarter, though we +are quiet enough down this way.... Great God! What is that noise I +hear?... Yes! it is! it is! "Down with the _Zhits_! Down with the +_Zhits_!" There is red on the horizon. _Bozhe moi!_ It is flame! +_Voi!_ They are pillaging the Jewish quarter. The sun sinks in blood, +as on that unhappy day among the village hills.... _Ach!_ Paul, Paul! +Why did I not stop your murderous pen?... But if not you, another +would have written.... No, that is no excuse.... Forgive me, O God, I +have been weak. Ever weak and cowardly from the day I first deserted +Thee, even unto this day.... I am not worthy of my blood, of my +race.... They are coming this way. It goes through me like a knife. +"Down with the _Zhits_! Down with the _Zhits_!" And now I see them. +They are mad, drunk with the vodka they have stolen from the Jewish +inns. Great God! They have knives and guns. And their leader is +flourishing a newspaper and shouting out something from it. There are +soldiers among them, and sailors, native and foreign, and mad muzhiks. +Where are the police?... The mob is passing under my window. _God pity +me, it is Paul's words they are shouting._... They have passed. No +one thinks of me. Thank God, I am safe. I am safe from these demons. +What a narrow escape!... Ah, God, they have captured Rabbi Isaac and +are dragging him along by his white beard toward the barracks. My +place is by his side. I will rouse my brethren. We are not a few. We +will turn on these dogs and rend them. _Proshchai_, my loved diary. +Farewell! I go to proclaim the Unity. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] In order to preserve the local colour, the Translator has +occasionally left a word or phrase of the MS. in the original Russian. + +[2] Dissenters. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +X + +"INCURABLE" + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +X + +"INCURABLE" + + "_Cast off among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave. + Whom Thou rememberest no more, and they are cut off from Thy + hand. Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in dark places, in + the deeps. Thy wrath lieth hard upon me and Thou hast afflicted + me with all Thy waves. Thou hast put mine acquaintance far from + me; Thou hast made me an abomination unto them; I am shut up and + I cannot come forth. Mine eye wasteth away by reason of + affliction. I have called daily upon Thee, O Lord, I have spread + forth my hands unto Thee._"--Eighty-eighth Psalm. + + +There was a restless air about the Refuge. In a few minutes the +friends of the patients would be admitted. The Incurables would hear +the latest gossip of the Ghetto, for the world was still very much +with these abortive lives, avid of sensations, Jewish to the end. It +was an unpretentious institution--two corner houses knocked +together--near the east lung of London; supported mainly by the poor +at a penny a week, and scarcely recognized by the rich; so that +paraplegia and vertigo and rachitis and a dozen other hopeless +diseases knocked hopelessly at its narrow portals. But it was a model +institution all the same, and the patients lacked for nothing except +freedom from pain. There was even a miniature synagogue for their +spiritual needs, with the women's compartment religiously railed off +from the men's, as if these grotesque ruins of sex might still +distract each other's devotions. + +Yet the Rabbis knew human nature. The sprightly, hydrocephalous, +paralytic Leah had had the chair she inhabited carried down into the +men's sitting-room to beguile the moments, and was smiling +fascinatingly upon the deaf blind man, who had the Braille Bible at +his fingers' ends, and read on as stolidly as St. Anthony. Mad Mo had +strolled vacuously into the ladies' ward, and, indifferent to the +pretty white-aproned Christian nurses, was loitering by the side of a +weird, hatchet-faced cripple with a stiletto-shaped nose supporting +big spectacles. Like most of the patients she was up and dressed; only +a few of the white pallets ranged along the walls were occupied. + +"Leah says she'd be quite happy if she could walk like you," said Mad +Mo in complimentary tones. "She always says Milly walks so beautiful. +She says you can walk the whole length of the garden." Milly, huddled +in her chair, smiled miserably. + +"You're crying again, Rebecca," protested a dark-eyed, bright-faced +dwarf in excellent English, as she touched her friend's withered hand. +"You are in the blues again. Why, that page is all blistered." + +"No--I feel so nice," said the sad-eyed Russian in her quaint musical +accent. "You sall not tink I cry because I am not happy. Ven I read +sad tings--like my life--den only I am happy." + +The dwarf gave a short laugh that made her pendent earrings oscillate. +"I thought you were brooding over your love affairs," she said. + +"Me!" cried Rebecca. "I lost too young my leg to be in love. No, it is +Psalm eighty-eight dat I brood over. 'I am afflicted and ready to die +from my yout' up.' Yes, I vas only a girl ven I had to go to +Koenigsberg to find a doctor to cut off my leg. 'Lover and friend hast +dou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness!'" + +Her face shone ecstatic. + +"Hush!" whispered the dwarf, with a warning nudge and a slight nod in +the direction of a neighbouring waterbed on which a pale, rigid, +middle-aged woman lay, with shut sleepless eyes. + +"Se cannot understand Englis'," said the Russian girl proudly. + +"Don't be so sure, look how the nurses here have picked up Yiddish!" + +Rebecca shook her head incredulously. "Sarah is a Polis' woman," she +said. "For years dey are in England and dey learn noting." + +"_Ick bin krank! Krank! Krank!_" suddenly moaned a shrivelled Polish +grandmother--an advanced centenarian--as if to corroborate the girl's +contention. She was squatting monkey-like on her bed, every now and +again murmuring her querulous burden of sickness, and jabbering at +the nurses to shut all the windows. Fresh air she objected to as +vehemently as if it were butter or some other heterodox dainty. + +Hard upon her crooning came bloodcurdling screams from the room above, +sounds that reminded the visitor he was not in a "Barnum" show, that +the monstrosities were genuine. Pretty Sister Margaret--not yet +indurated--thrilled with pity, as before her inner vision rose the +ashen perspiring face of the palsied sufferer, who sat quivering all +the long day in an easy-chair, her swollen jelly-like hands resting on +cotton-wool pads, an air-pillow between her knees, her whole frame +racked at frequent intervals by fierce spasms of pain, her only +diversion faint blurred reflections of episodes of the street in the +glass of a framed picture; yet morbidly suspicious of slow poison in +her drink, and cursed with an incurable vitality. + +Meantime Sarah lay silent, bitter thoughts moving beneath her white, +impassive face like salt tides below a frozen surface. It was a +strong, stern face, telling of a present of pain, and faintly hinting +at a past of prettiness. She seemed alone in the populated ward, and +indeed the world was bare for her. Most of her life had been spent in +the Warsaw Ghetto, where she was married at sixteen, nineteen years +before. Her only surviving son--a youth whom the English atmosphere +had not improved--had sailed away to trade with the Kaffirs. And her +husband had not been to see her for a fortnight! + +When the visitors began to arrive, her torpor vanished. She eagerly +raised the half of her that was not paralyzed, partially sitting up. +But gradually expectation died out of her large gray eyes. There was a +buzz of talk in the room--the hydrocephalous girl was the gay centre +of a group; the Polish grandmother who cursed her grandchildren when +they didn't come and when they did, was denouncing their neglect of +her to their faces; everybody had somebody to kiss or quarrel with. +One or two acquaintances approached the bed-ridden wife, too, but she +would speak no word, too proud to ask after her husband, and wincing +under the significant glances occasionally cast in her direction. By +and by she had the red screen placed round her bed, which gave her +artificial walls and a quasi-privacy. Her husband would know where to +look for her-- + +"Woe is me!" wailed her centenarian country-woman, rocking to and fro. +"What sin have I committed to get such grandchildren? You only come to +see if the old grandmother isn't dead yet. So sick! So sick! So sick!" + +Twilight filled the wards. The white beds looked ghostly in the +darkness. The last visitor departed. Sarah's husband had not yet come. + +"He is not well, Mrs. Kretznow," Sister Margaret ventured to say in +her best Yiddish. "Or he is busy working. Work is not so slack any +more." Alone in the institution she shared Sarah's ignorance of the +Kretznow scandal. Talk of it died before her youth and sweetness. + +"He would have written," said Sarah sternly. "He is awearied of me. I +have lain here a year. Job's curse is on me." + +"Shall I to him"--Sister Margaret paused to excogitate the Yiddish +word--"write?" + +"No! He hears me knocking at his heart." + +They had flashes of strange savage poetry, these crude yet complex +souls. Sister Margaret, who was still liable to be startled, murmured +feebly, "But--" + +"Leave me in peace!" with a cry like that of a wounded animal. + +The matron gently touched the novice's arm and drew her away. "_I_ +will write to him," she whispered. + +Night fell, but sleep fell only for some. Sarah Kretznow tossed in a +hell of loneliness. Ah, surely her husband had not forgotten +her--surely she would not lie thus till death--that far-off death her +strong religious instinct would forbid her hastening! She had gone +into the Refuge to save him the constant sight of her helplessness and +the cost of her keep. Was she now to be cut off forever from the sight +of his strength? + +The next day he came--by special invitation. His face was sallow, +rimmed with swarthy hair; his under lip was sensuous. He hung his +head, half veiling the shifty eyes. + +Sister Margaret ran to tell his wife. Sarah's face sparkled. + +"Put up the screen!" she murmured, and in its shelter drew her +husband's head to her bosom and pressed her lips to his hair. + +But he, surprised into indiscretion, murmured: "I thought thou wast +dying." + +A beautiful light came into the gray eyes. + +"Thy heart told thee right, Herzel, my life. I _was_ dying--for a +sight of thee." + +"But the matron wrote to me pressingly," he blurted out. He felt her +breast heave convulsively under his face; with her hands she thrust +him away. + +"God's fool that I am--I should have known; to-day is not visiting +day. They have compassion on me--they see my sorrows--it is public +talk." + +His pulse seemed to stop. "They have talked to thee of me," he +faltered. + +"I did not ask their pity. But they saw how I suffered--one cannot +hide one's heart." + +"They have no right to talk," he muttered in sulky trepidation. + +"They have every right," she rejoined sharply. "If thou hadst come to +see me even once--why hast thou not?" + +"I--I--have been travelling in the country with cheap jewellery. The +tailoring is so slack." + +"Look me in the eyes! Law of Moses? No, it is a lie. God shall forgive +thee. Why hast thou not come?" + +"I have told thee." + +"Tell that to the Sabbath Fire-Woman! Why hast thou not come? Is it so +very much to spare me an hour or two a week? If I could go out like +some of the patients, I would come to thee. But I have tired thee out +utterly--" + +"No, no, Sarah," he murmured uneasily. + +"Then why--?" + +He was covered with shame and confusion. His face was turned away. "I +did not like to come," he said desperately. + +"Why not?" Crimson patches came and went on her white cheeks; her +heart beat madly. + +"Surely thou canst understand!" + +"Understand what? I speak of green and thou answerest of blue!" + +"I answer as thou askest." + +"Thou answerest not at all." + +"No answer is also an answer," he snarled, driven to bay. "Thou +understandest well enough. Thyself saidst it was public talk." + +"Ah--h--h!" in a stifled shriek of despair. Her intuition divined +everything. The shadowy, sinister suggestions she had so long beat +back by force of will took form and substance. Her head fell back on +the pillow, the eyes closed. + +He stayed on, bending awkwardly over her. + +"So sick! So sick! So sick!" moaned the wizened grandmother. + +"Thou sayest they have compassion on thee in their talk," he murmured +at last, half deprecatingly, half resentfully; "have they none on me?" + +Her silence chilled him. "But _thou_ hast compassion, Sarah," he +urged. "_Thou_ understandest." + +Presently she reopened her eyes. + +"Thou art not gone?" she murmured. + +"No--thou seest I am not tired of thee, Sarah, my life! Only--" + +"Wilt thou wash my skin, and not make me wet?" she interrupted +bitterly. "Go home. Go home to her!" + +"I will not go home." + +"Then go under like Korah." + +He shuffled out. That night her lonely hell was made lonelier by the +opening of a peep-hole into Paradise--a paradise of Adam and Eve and +forbidden fruit. For days she preserved a stony silence toward the +sympathy of the inmates. Of what avail words against the flames of +jealousy in which she writhed? + +He lingered about the passage on the next visiting day, vaguely +remorseful, but she would not see him. So he went away, vaguely +indignant, and his new housemate comforted him, and he came no more. + +When you lie on your back all day and all night you have time to +think, especially if you do not sleep. A situation presents itself in +many lights from dawn to dusk and from dusk to dawn. One such light +flashed on the paradise, and showed it to her as but the portico of +purgatory. Her husband would be damned in the next world, even as she +was in this. His soul would be cut off from among its people. + +On this thought she brooded till it loomed horribly in her darkness. +And at last she dictated a letter to the matron, asking Herzel to come +and see her. + +He obeyed, and stood shame-faced at her side, fidgeting with his +peaked cap. Her hard face softened momentarily at the sight of him, +her bosom heaved, suppressed sobs swelled her throat. + +"Thou hast sent for me?" he murmured. + +"Yes--perhaps thou didst again imagine I was on my death-bed!" she +replied, with bitter irony. + +"It is not so, Sarah. I would have come of myself--only thou wouldst +not see my face." + +"I have seen it for twenty years--it is another's turn now." + +He was silent. + +"It is true all the same--I am on my death-bed." + +He started. A pang shot through his breast. He darted an agitated +glance at her face. + +"Is it not so? In this bed I shall die. But God knows how many years I +shall lie in it." + +Her calm gave him an uncanny shudder. + +"And till the Holy One, blessed be He, takes me, thou wilt live a +daily sinner." + +"I am not to blame. God has stricken me. I am a young man." + +"Thou art to blame!" Her eyes flashed fire. "Blasphemer! Life is sweet +to thee--yet perchance thou wilt die before me." + +His face grew livid. "I am a young man," he repeated tremulously. + +"Dost thou forget what Rabbi Eliezer said? 'Repent one day before thy +death'--that is to-day, for who knows?" + +"What wouldst thou have me do?" + +"Give up--" + +"No, no," he interrupted. "It is useless. I cannot. I am so lonely." + +"Give up," she repeated inexorably, "thy wife." + +"What sayest thou? My wife! But she is not my wife. Thou art my wife." + +"Even so. Give me up. Give me _Get_ (divorce)." + +His breath failed, his heart thumped at the suggestion. + +"Give thee _Get_!" he whispered. + +"Yes. Why didst thou not send me a bill of divorcement when I left thy +home for this?" + +He averted his face. "I thought of it," he stammered. "And then--" + +"And then?" He seemed to see a sardonic glitter in the gray eyes. + +"I--I was afraid." + +"Afraid!" She laughed in grim mirthlessness. "Afraid of a bed-ridden +woman!" + +"I was afraid it would make thee unhappy." The sardonic gleam melted +into softness, then became more terrible than before. + +"And so thou hast made me happy instead!" + +"Stab me not more than I merit. I did not think people would be cruel +enough to tell thee." + +"Thine own lips told me." + +"Nay--by my soul," he cried, startled. + +"Thine eyes told me, then." + +"I feared so," he said, turning them away. "When she came into my +house, I--I dared not go to see thee--that was why I did not come, +though I always meant to, Sarah, my life. I feared to look thee in the +eyes. I foresaw they would read the secret in mine--so I was afraid." + +"Afraid!" she repeated bitterly. "Afraid I would scratch them out! +Nay, they are good eyes. Have they not seen my heart? For twenty years +they have been my light.... Those eyes and mine have seen our children +die." + +Spasmodic sobs came thickly now. Swallowing them down, she said, "And +she--did she not ask thee to give me _Get_?" + +"Nay, she was willing to go without. She said thou wast as one +dead--look not thus at me. It is the will of God. It was for thy sake, +too, Sarah, that she did not become my wife by law. She, too, would +have spared thee the knowledge of her." + +"Yes; ye have both tender hearts! She is a mother in Israel, and thou +art a spark of our father Abraham." + +"Thou dost not believe what I say?" + +"I can disbelieve it, and still remain a Jewess." + +Then, satire boiling over into passion, she cried vehemently, "We are +threshing empty ears. Thinkest thou I am not aware of the +Judgments--I, the granddaughter of Reb Shloumi (the memory of the +righteous for a blessing)? Thinkest thou I am ignorant thou couldst +not obtain a _Get_ against me--me who have borne thee children, who +have wrought no evil? I speak not of the _Beth-Din_, for in this +impious country they are loath to follow the Judgments, and from the +English _Beth-Din_ thou wouldst find it impossible to obtain the _Get_ +in any case, even though thou didst not marry me in this country, nor +according to its laws. I speak of our own _Rabbonim_--thou knowest +even the Maggid would not give thee _Get_ merely because thy wife is +bed-ridden. That--that is what thou wast afraid of." + +"But if thou art willing,--" he replied eagerly, ignoring her scornful +scepticism. + +His readiness to accept the sacrifice was salt upon her wounds. + +"Thou deservest I should let thee burn in the lowest Gehenna," she +cried. + +"The Almighty is more merciful than thou," he answered. "It is He that +hath ordained it is not good for man to live alone. And yet men shun +me--people talk--and she--she may leave me to my loneliness again." +His voice faltered with self-pity. "Here thou hast friends, nurses, +visitors. I--I have nothing. True, thou didst bear me children, but +they withered as by the evil eye. My only son is across the ocean; he +hath no love for me or thee." + +The recital of their common griefs softened her toward him. + +"Go!" she whispered. "Go and send me the _Get_. Go to the Maggid, he +knew my grandfather. He is the man to arrange it for thee with his +friends. Tell him it is my wish." + +"God shall reward thee. How can I thank thee for giving thy consent?" + +"What else have I to give thee, my Herzel, I who eat the bread of +strangers? Truly says the Proverb, 'When one begs of a beggar the Herr +God laughs!'" + +"I will send thee the _Get_ as soon as possible." + +"Thou art right, I am a thorn in thine eye. Pluck me out quickly." + +"Thou wilt not refuse the _Get_, when it comes?" he replied +apprehensively. + +"Is it not a wife's duty to submit?" she asked with grim irony. "Nay, +have no fear. Thou shalt have no difficulty in serving the _Get_ upon +me. I will not throw it in the messenger's face.... And thou wilt +marry her?" + +"Assuredly. People will no longer talk. And she must needs bide with +me. It is my one desire." + +"It is mine likewise. Thou must atone and save thy soul." + +He lingered uncertainly. + +"And thy dowry?" he said at last. "Thou wilt not make claim for +compensation?" + +"Be easy--I scarce know where my _Cesubah_ (marriage certificate) is. +What need have I of money? As thou sayest, I have all I want. I do not +even desire to purchase a grave--lying already so long in a +charity-grave. The bitterness is over." + +He shivered. "Thou art very good to me," he said. "Good-bye." + +He stooped down--she drew the bedclothes frenziedly over her face. + +"Kiss me not!" + +"Good-bye, then," he stammered. "God be good to thee!" He moved away. + +"Herzel!" She had uncovered her face with a despairing cry. He +slouched back toward her, perturbed, dreading she would retract. + +"Do not send it--bring it thyself. Let me take it from thy hand." + +A lump rose in his throat. "I will bring it," he said brokenly. + +The long days of pain grew longer--the summer was coming, harbingered +by sunny days that flooded the wards with golden mockery. The evening +Herzel brought the _Get_, Sarah could have read every word on the +parchment plainly, if her eyes had not been blinded by tears. + +She put out her hand toward her husband, groping for the document he +bore. He placed it in her burning palm. The fingers closed +automatically upon it, then relaxed, and the paper fluttered to the +floor. But Sarah was no longer a wife. + +Herzel was glad to hide his burning face by stooping for the fallen +bill of divorcement. He was long picking it up. When his eyes met hers +again, she had propped herself up in her bed. Two big round tears +trickled down her cheeks, but she received the parchment calmly and +thrust it into her bosom. + +"Let it lie there," she said stonily, "there where thy head hath lain. +Blessed be the true Judge." + +"Thou art not angry with me, Sarah?" + +"Why should I be angry? She was right--I am but a dead woman. Only no +one may say _Kaddish_ for me, no one may pray for the repose of my +soul. I am not angry, Herzel. A wife should light the Sabbath candles, +and throw in the fire the morsel of dough. But thy home was desolate, +there was none to do these things. Here I have all I need. Now thou +wilt be happy, too." + +"Thou hast been a good wife, Sarah," he murmured, touched. + +"Recall not the past; we are strangers now," she said, with recurrent +harshness. + +"But I may come and see thee--sometimes." He had stirrings of remorse +as the moment of final parting came. + +"Wouldst thou reopen my wounds?" + +"Farewell, then." + +He put out his hand timidly; she seized it and held it passionately. + +"Yes, yes, Herzel! Do not leave me! Come and see me here--as a friend, +an acquaintance, a man I used to know. The others are thoughtless--they +forget me--I shall lie here--perhaps the Angel of Death will forget me, +too." Her grasp tightened till it hurt him acutely. + +"Yes, I will come--I will come often," he said, with a sob of physical +pain. + +Her clasp loosened, she dropped his hand. + +"But not till thou art married," she said. + +"Be it so." + +"Of course thou must have a 'still wedding.' The English synagogue +will not marry thee." + +"The Maggid will marry me." + +"Thou wilt show me her _Cesubah_ when thou comest next?" + +"Yes--I will contrive to get it from her." + +A week passed--he brought the marriage certificate. + +Outwardly she was calm. She glanced through it. "God be thanked," she +said, and handed it back. They chatted of indifferent things, of the +doings of the neighbours. When he was going, she said, "Thou wilt come +again?" + +"Yes, I will come again." + +"Thou art so good to spend thy time on me thus. But thy wife--will she +not be jealous?" + +He stared, bewildered by her strange, eerie moments. + +"Jealous of thee?" he murmured. + +She took it in its contemptuous sense and her white lips twitched. But +she only said, "Is she aware thou hast come here?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "Do I know? I have not told her." + +"Tell her." + +"As thou wishest." + +There was a pause. Presently the woman spoke. + +"Wilt thou not bring her to see me? Then she will know that thou hast +no love left for me--" + +He flinched as at a stab. After a painful moment he said: "Art thou in +earnest?" + +"I am no marriage-jester. Bring her to me--will she not come to see an +invalid? It is a _mitzvah_ (good deed) to visit the sick. It will wipe +out her trespass." + +"She shall come." + +She came. Sarah stared at her for an instant with poignant curiosity, +then her eyelids drooped to shut out the dazzle of her youth and +freshness. Herzel's wife moved awkwardly and sheepishly. But she was +beautiful--a buxom, comely country girl from a Russian village, with a +swelling bust and a cheek rosy with health and confusion. + +Sarah's breast was racked by a thousand needles. But she found breath +at last. + +"God bless--thee, Mrs.--Kretznow," she said gaspingly. + +She took the girl's hand. + +"How good thou art to come and see a sick creature." + +"My husband willed it," the new wife said in deprecation. She had a +simple, stupid air that did not seem wholly due to the constraint of +the strange situation. + +"Thou wast right to obey. Be good to him, my child. For three years he +waited on me, when I lay helpless. He has suffered much. Be good to +him!" + +With an impulsive movement she drew the girl's head down to her and +kissed her on the lips. Then with an anguished cry of "Leave me for +to-day," she jerked the blanket over her face and burst into tears. +She heard the couple move hesitatingly away. The girl's beauty shone +on her through the opaque coverings. + +"O God!" she wailed. "God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, let me die +now. For the merits of the Patriarchs take me soon, take me soon." + +Her vain passionate prayer, muffled by the bedclothes, was wholly +drowned by ear-piercing shrieks from the ward above--screams of agony +mingled with half-articulate accusations of attempted poisoning--the +familiar paroxysm of the palsied woman who clung to life. + +The thrill passed again through Sister Margaret. She uplifted her +sweet humid eyes. + +"Ah, Christ!" she whispered. "If I could die for her!" + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +XI + +THE SABBATH-BREAKER + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +XI + +THE SABBATH-BREAKER + + +The moment came near for the Polish centenarian grandmother to die. +From the doctor's statement it appeared she had only a bad quarter of +an hour to live. Her attack had been sudden, and the grandchildren she +loved to scold could not be present. + +She had already battled through the great wave of pain, and was +drifting beyond the boundaries of her earthly Refuge. The nurses, +forgetting the trouble her querulousness and her overweening dietary +scruples had cost them, hung over the bed on which the shrivelled +entity lay. They did not know she was living again through the one +great episode of her life. + +Nearly forty years back, when (though already hard upon seventy and a +widow) a Polish village was all her horizon, she received a letter. It +arrived on the eve of Sabbath on a day of rainy summer. It was from +her little boy--her only boy--who kept a country inn seven-and-thirty +miles away, and had a family. She opened the letter with feverish +anxiety. Her son--her _Kaddish_--was the apple of her eye. The old +woman eagerly perused the Hebrew script, from right to left. Then +weakness overcame her and she nearly fell. + +Embedded casually enough in the four pages was a passage that stood +out for her in letters of blood. "I am not feeling very well lately; +the weather is so oppressive and the nights are misty. But it is +nothing serious; my digestion is a little out of order, that's all." +There were roubles for her in the letter, but she let them fall to the +floor unheeded. Panic fear, travelling quicker than the tardy post of +those days, had brought rumour of a sudden outbreak of cholera in her +son's district. Already alarm for her boy had surged about her heart +all day; the letter confirmed her worst apprehensions. Even if the +first touch of the cholera-fiend was not actually on him when he +wrote, still he was by his own confession in that condition in which +the disease takes easiest grip. By this time he was on a bed of +sickness--nay, perhaps on his death-bed, if not dead. Even in those +days the little grandmother had lived beyond the common span; she had +seen many people die, and knew that the Angel of Death does not always +go about his work leisurely. In an epidemic his hands are too full to +enable him to devote much attention to each case. Maternal instinct +tugged at her heart-strings, drawing her toward her boy. The end of +the letter seemed impregnated with special omen--"Come and see me +soon, dear little mother. I shall be unable to get to see you for +some time." Yes, she must go at once--who knew but that it would be +the last time she would look upon his face? + +But then came a terrible thought to give her pause. The Sabbath was +just "in"--a moment ago. Driving, riding, or any manner of journeying +was prohibited during the next twenty-four hours. Frantically she +reviewed the situation. Religion permitted the violation of the +Sabbath on one condition--if life was to be saved. By no stretch of +logic could she delude herself into the belief her son's recovery +hinged upon her presence--nay, analyzing the case with the cruel +remorselessness of a scrupulous conscience, she saw his very illness +was only a plausible hypothesis. No; to go to him now were beyond +question to profane the Sabbath. + +And yet beneath all the reasoning, her conviction that he was sick +unto death, her resolve to set out at once, never wavered. After an +agonizing struggle she compromised. She could not go by cart--that +would be to make others work into the bargain, and would moreover +involve a financial transaction. She must walk! Sinful as it was to +transgress the limit of two thousand yards beyond her village--the +distance fixed by Rabbinical law--there was no help for it. And of all +the forms of travelling, walking was surely the least sinful. The Holy +One, blessed be He, would know she did not mean to work; perhaps in +His mercy He would make allowance for an old woman who had never +profaned His rest-day before. + +And so, that very evening, having made a hasty meal, and lodged the +precious letter in her bosom, the little grandmother girded up her +loins to walk the seven-and-thirty miles. No staff took she with her, +for to carry such came under the Talmudical definition of work. +Neither could she carry an umbrella, though it was a season of rain. +Mile after mile she strode briskly on, toward that pallid face that +lay so far beyond the horizon, and yet ever shone before her eyes like +a guiding star. "I am coming, my lamb," she muttered. "The little +mother is on the way." + +It was a muggy night. The sky, flushed with a weird, hectic glamour, +seemed to hang over the earth like a pall. The trees that lined the +roadway were shrouded in a draggling vapour. At midnight the mist +blotted out the stars. But the little grandmother knew the road ran +straight. All night she walked through the forest, fearless as Una, +meeting neither man nor beast, though the wolf and the bear haunted +its recesses, and snakes lurked in the bushes. But only the innocent +squirrels darted across her path. The morning found her spent, and +almost lame. But she walked on. Almost half the journey was yet to do. + +She had nothing to eat with her; food, too, was an illegal burden, nor +could she buy any on the holy day. She said her Sabbath morning prayer +walking, hoping God would forgive the disrespect. The recital gave her +partial oblivion of her pains. As she passed through a village the +dreadful rumour of cholera was confirmed; it gave wings to her feet for +ten minutes, then bodily weakness was stronger than everything else, +and she had to lean against the hedges on the outskirts of the village. +It was nearly noon. A passing beggar gave her a piece of bread. +Fortunately it was unbuttered, so she could eat it with only minor +qualms lest it had touched any unclean thing. She resumed her journey, +but the rest had only made her feet move more painfully and +reluctantly. She would have liked to bathe them in a brook, but that, +too, was forbidden. She took the letter from her bosom and reperused +it, and whipped up her flagging strength with a cry of "Courage, my +lamb! the little mother is on the way." Then the leaden clouds melted +into sharp lines of rain, which beat into her face, refreshing her for +the first few moments, but soon wetting her to the skin, making her +sopped garments a heavier burden, and reducing the pathway to mud, that +clogged still further her feeble footsteps. In the teeth of the wind +and the driving shower she limped on. A fresh anxiety consumed her +now--would she have strength to hold out? Every moment her pace +lessened, she was moving like a snail. And the slower she went the more +vivid grew her prescience of what awaited her at the journey's end. +Would she even hear his dying word? Perhaps--terrible thought!--she +would only be in time to look upon his dead face! Mayhap that was how +God would punish her for her desecration of the holy day. "Take heart, +my lamb!" she wailed. "Do not die yet. The little mother comes." + +The rain stopped. The sun came out, hot and fierce, and dried her +hands and face, then made them stream again with perspiration. Every +inch won was torture now, but the brave feet toiled on. Bruised and +swollen and crippled, they toiled on. There was a dying voice--very +far off yet, alas!--that called to her, and as she dragged herself +along, she replied: "I am coming, my lamb. Take heart! the little +mother is on the way. Courage! I shall look upon thy face, I shall +find thee alive." + +Once a wagoner observed her plight and offered her a lift, but she +shook her head steadfastly. The endless afternoon wore on--she crawled +along the forest-way, stumbling every now and then from sheer +faintness, and tearing her hands and face in the brambles of the +roadside. At last the cruel sun waned, and reeking mists rose from the +forest pools. And still the long miles stretched away, and still she +plodded on, torpid from over-exhaustion, scarcely conscious, and +taking each step only because she had taken the preceding. From time +to time her lips mumbled: "Take heart, my lamb! I am coming." The +Sabbath was "out" ere, broken and bleeding, and all but swooning, the +little grandmother crawled up to her son's inn, on the border of the +forest. Her heart was cold with fatal foreboding. There was none of +the usual Saturday night litter of Polish peasantry about the door. +The sound of many voices weirdly intoning a Hebrew hymn floated out +into the night. A man in a caftan opened the door, and mechanically +raised his forefinger to bid her enter without noise. The little +grandmother saw into the room behind. Her daughter-in-law and her +grandchildren were seated on the floor--the seat of mourners. + +"Blessed be the true Judge!" she said, and rent the skirt of her +dress. "When did he die?" + +"Yesterday. We had to bury him hastily ere the Sabbath came in." + +The little, grandmother lifted up her quavering voice, and joined the +hymn, "I will sing a new song unto Thee, O God; upon a harp of ten +strings will I sing praises unto Thee." + + * * * * * + +The nurses could not understand what sudden inflow of strength and +impulse raised the mummified figure into a sitting posture. The little +grandmother thrust a shrivelled claw into her peaked, shrunken bosom, +and drew out a paper, crumpled and yellow as herself, covered with +strange crabbed hieroglyphics, whose hue had long since faded. She +held it close to her bleared eyes--a beautiful light came into them, +and illumined the million-puckered face. The lips moved faintly; "I am +coming, my lamb," she mumbled. "Courage! The little mother is on the +way. I shall look on thy face. I shall find thee alive." + + + + +Printed in the United States of America. + + + * * * * * + + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + | Typographical errors corrected in text: | + | | + | Page 421: stanchness is a legitimate spelling variant | + | of staunchness | + | | + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ghetto Tragedies, by Israel Zangwill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GHETTO TRAGEDIES *** + +***** This file should be named 35076.txt or 35076.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/0/7/35076/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/35076.zip b/35076.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dceba60 --- /dev/null +++ b/35076.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1b1020e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #35076 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35076) |