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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The King of Schnorrers, 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: The King of Schnorrers
+       Grotesques and Fantasies
+
+Author: Israel Zangwill
+
+Release Date: December 26, 2011 [EBook #38413]
+[Last updated: January 23, 2012]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING OF SCHNORRERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    _The King of Schnorrers_
+
+    _I. Zangwill_
+
+
+
+
+    _The King of Schnorrers_
+
+    _GROTESQUES AND FANTASIES_
+
+    BY I. ZANGWILL
+
+
+          AUTHOR OF
+    "CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO,"
+    "THE OLD MAIDS' CLUB,"
+    "MERELY MARY ANN," ETC.
+
+
+    New York
+    THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+    LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
+    1909
+
+    _All rights reserved_
+
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1893,
+    BY MACMILLAN AND CO.
+
+
+    Set up and electrotyped January, 1894. Reprinted April,
+    1894; September, 1895; January, 1897; October, 1898; August,
+    1899; June, 1909.
+
+    Norwood Press
+    J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
+    Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+_Foreword to "The King of Schnorrers."_
+
+
+_These episodes make no claim to veracity, while the personages are
+not even sun-myths. I have merely amused myself and attempted to amuse
+idlers by incarnating the floating tradition of the Jewish_ SCHNORRER,
+_who is as unique among beggars as Israel among nations. The close of
+the eighteenth century was chosen for a background, because, while the
+most picturesque period of Anglo-Jewish history, it has never before
+been exploited in fiction, whether by novelists or historians. To my
+friend, Mr. Asher I. Myers, I am indebted for access to his unique
+collection of Jewish prints and caricatures of the period, and I have
+not been backward in_ SCHNORRING _suggestions from him and other
+private humourists. My indebtedness to my artists is more obvious,
+from my old friend George Hutchinson to my newer friend Phil May, who
+has been good enough to allow me to reproduce from his Annuals the
+brilliant sketches illustrating two of the shorter stories. Of these
+shorter stories it only remains to be said there are both tragic and
+comic, and I will not usurp the critic's prerogative by determining
+which is which._
+
+_I. Z._
+
+    _That all men are beggars, 'tis very plain to see,
+    Though some they are of lowly, and some of high degree:
+    Your ministers of State will say they never will allow
+    That kings from subjects beg; but that you know is all bow-wow.
+        Bow-wow-wow! Fol lol, etc._
+
+            OLD PLAY.
+
+
+
+
+    _Contents._
+
+
+    THE KING OF SCHNORRERS
+        _Illustrated by_ GEORGE HUTCHINSON.
+    THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON
+        _Illustrated by_ PHIL MAY.
+    AN HONEST LOG-ROLLER
+        _Illustrated by_ F. H. TOWNSEND.
+    A TRAGI-COMEDY OF CREEDS
+    THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE
+        _Illustrated by_ A. J. FINBERG.
+    MATED BY A WAITER
+        _Illustrated by_ MARK ZANGWILL.
+    THE PRINCIPAL BOY
+        _Illustrated by_ F. H. TOWNSEND _and_ MARK ZANGWILL.
+    AN ODD LIFE
+        _Illustrated by_ F. H. TOWNSEND.
+    CHEATING THE GALLOWS
+        _Illustrated by_ GEORGE HUTCHINSON.
+    SANTA CLAUS
+        _Illustrated by_ MARK ZANGWILL.
+    A ROSE OF THE GHETTO
+        _Illustrated by_ A. J. FINBERG.
+    A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST
+        _Illustrated by_ PHIL MAY.
+    VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT
+        _Illustrated by_ F. H. TOWNSEND.
+    THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS
+        _Illustrated by_ IRVING MONTAGU.
+    A SUCCESSFUL OPERATION
+    FLUTTER-DUCK: A GHETTO GROTESQUE
+        _Illustrated by_ MARK ZANGWILL.
+
+
+
+
+THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE WICKED PHILANTHROPIST WAS TURNED INTO A FISH-PORTER.
+
+In the days when Lord George Gordon became a Jew, and was suspected of
+insanity; when, out of respect for the prophecies, England denied her
+Jews every civic right except that of paying taxes; when the
+_Gentleman's Magazine_ had ill words for the infidel alien; when
+Jewish marriages were invalid and bequests for Hebrew colleges void;
+when a prophet prophesying Primrose Day would have been set in the
+stocks, though Pitt inclined his private ear to Benjamin Goldsmid's
+views on the foreign loans--in those days, when Tevele Schiff was
+Rabbi in Israel, and Dr. de Falk, the Master of the Tetragrammaton,
+saint and Cabbalistic conjuror, flourished in Wellclose Square, and
+the composer of "The Death of Nelson" was a choir-boy in the Great
+Synagogue; Joseph Grobstock, pillar of the same, emerged one afternoon
+into the spring sunshine at the fag-end of the departing stream of
+worshippers. In his hand was a large canvas bag, and in his eye a
+twinkle.
+
+There had been a special service of prayer and thanksgiving for the
+happy restoration of his Majesty's health, and the cantor had
+interceded tunefully with Providence on behalf of Royal George and
+"our most amiable Queen, Charlotte." The congregation was large and
+fashionable--far more so than when only a heavenly sovereign was
+concerned--and so the courtyard was thronged with a string of
+_Schnorrers_ (beggars), awaiting the exit of the audience, much as the
+vestibule of the opera-house is lined by footmen.
+
+They were a motley crew, with tangled beards and long hair that fell
+in curls, if not the curls of the period; but the gaberdines of the
+German Ghettoes had been in most cases exchanged for the knee-breeches
+and many-buttoned jacket of the Londoner. When the clothes one has
+brought from the Continent wear out, one must needs adopt the attire
+of one's superiors, or be reduced to buying. Many bore staves, and had
+their loins girded up with coloured handkerchiefs, as though ready at
+any moment to return from the Captivity. Their woebegone air was
+achieved almost entirely by not washing--it owed little to nature, to
+adventitious aids in the shape of deformities. The merest sprinkling
+boasted of physical afflictions, and none exposed sores like the
+lazars of Italy or contortions like the cripples of Constantinople.
+Such crude methods are eschewed in the fine art of _schnorring_. A
+green shade might denote weakness of sight, but the stone-blind man
+bore no braggart placard--his infirmity was an old established concern
+well known to the public, and conferring upon the proprietor a
+definite status in the community. He was no anonymous atom, such as
+drifts blindly through Christendom, vagrant and apologetic. Rarest of
+all sights in this pageantry of Jewish pauperdom was the hollow
+trouser-leg or the empty sleeve, or the wooden limb fulfilling either
+and pushing out a proclamatory peg.
+
+When the pack of _Schnorrers_ caught sight of Joseph Grobstock, they
+fell upon him full-cry, blessing him. He, nothing surprised, brushed
+pompously through the benedictions, though the twinkle in his eye
+became a roguish gleam. Outside the iron gates, where the throng was
+thickest, and where some elegant chariots that had brought worshippers
+from distant Hackney were preparing to start, he came to a standstill,
+surrounded by clamouring _Schnorrers_, and dipped his hand slowly and
+ceremoniously into the bag. There was a moment of breathless
+expectation among the beggars, and Joseph Grobstock had a moment of
+exquisite consciousness of importance, as he stood there swelling in
+the sunshine. There was no middle class to speak of in the
+eighteenth-century Jewry; the world was divided into rich and poor,
+and the rich were very, very rich, and the poor very, very poor, so
+that everyone knew his station. Joseph Grobstock was satisfied with
+that in which it had pleased God to place him. He was a jovial,
+heavy-jowled creature, whose clean-shaven chin was doubling, and he
+was habited like a person of the first respectability in a beautiful
+blue body-coat with a row of big yellow buttons. The frilled shirt
+front, high collar of the very newest fashion, and copious white
+neckerchief showed off the massive fleshiness of the red throat. His
+hat was of the Quaker pattern, and his head did not fail of the
+periwig and the pigtail, the latter being heretical in name only.
+
+[Illustration: "DIPPED HIS HAND INTO THE BAG."]
+
+What Joseph Grobstock drew from the bag was a small white-paper
+packet, and his sense of humour led him to place it in the hand
+furthest from his nose; for it was a broad humour, not a subtle. It
+enabled him to extract pleasure from seeing a fellow-mortal's hat
+rollick in the wind, but did little to alleviate the chase for his
+own. His jokes clapped you on the back, they did not tickle
+delicately.
+
+Such was the man who now became the complacent cynosure of all eyes,
+even of those that had no appeal in them, as soon as the principle of
+his eleemosynary operations had broken on the crowd. The first
+_Schnorrer_, feverishly tearing open his package, had found a florin,
+and, as by electricity, all except the blind beggar were aware that
+Joseph Grobstock was distributing florins. The distributor partook of
+the general consciousness, and his lips twitched. Silently he dipped
+again into the bag, and, selecting the hand nearest, put a second
+white package into it. A wave of joy brightened the grimy face, to
+change instantly to one of horror.
+
+"You have made a mistake--you have given me a penny!" cried the
+beggar.
+
+"Keep it for your honesty," replied Joseph Grobstock imperturbably,
+and affected not to enjoy the laughter of the rest. The third
+mendicant ceased laughing when he discovered that fold on fold of
+paper sheltered a tiny sixpence. It was now obvious that the great man
+was distributing prize-packets, and the excitement of the piebald
+crowd grew momently. Grobstock went on dipping, lynx-eyed against
+second applications. One of the few pieces of gold in the lucky-bag
+fell to the solitary lame man, who danced in his joy on his sound leg,
+while the poor blind man pocketed his halfpenny, unconscious of
+ill-fortune, and merely wondering why the coin came swathed in paper.
+
+[Illustration: "DANCED ON HIS SOUND LEG."]
+
+By this time Grobstock could control his face no longer, and the last
+episodes of the lottery were played to the accompaniment of a broad
+grin. Keen and complex was his enjoyment. There was not only the
+general surprise at this novel feat of alms; there were the special
+surprises of detail written on face after face, as it flashed or fell
+or frowned in congruity with the contents of the envelope, and for
+undercurrent a delicious hubbub of interjections and benedictions, a
+stretching and withdrawing of palms, and a swift shifting of figures,
+that made the scene a farrago of excitements. So that the broad grin
+was one of gratification as well as of amusement, and part of the
+gratification sprang from a real kindliness of heart--for Grobstock
+was an easy-going man with whom the world had gone easy. The
+_Schnorrers_ were exhausted before the packets, but the philanthropist
+was in no anxiety to be rid of the remnant. Closing the mouth of the
+considerably lightened bag and clutching it tightly by the throat, and
+recomposing his face to gravity, he moved slowly down the street like
+a stately treasure-ship flecked by the sunlight. His way led towards
+Goodman's Fields, where his mansion was situate, and he knew that the
+fine weather would bring out _Schnorrers_ enough. And, indeed, he had
+not gone many paces before he met a figure he did not remember having
+seen before.
+
+Leaning against a post at the head of the narrow passage which led to
+Bevis Marks was a tall, black-bearded, turbaned personage, a first
+glance at whom showed him of the true tribe. Mechanically Joseph
+Grobstock's hand went to the lucky-bag, and he drew out a
+neatly-folded packet and tendered it to the stranger.
+
+The stranger received the gift graciously, and opened it gravely, the
+philanthropist loitering awkwardly to mark the issue. Suddenly the
+dark face became a thunder-cloud, the eyes flashed lightning.
+
+"An evil spirit in your ancestors' bones!" hissed the stranger, from
+between his flashing teeth. "Did you come here to insult me?"
+
+"Pardon, a thousand pardons!" stammered the magnate, wholly taken
+aback. "I fancied you were a--a--a--poor man."
+
+"And, therefore, you came to insult me!"
+
+"No, no, I thought to help you," murmured Grobstock, turning from red
+to scarlet. Was it possible he had foisted his charity upon an
+undeserving millionaire? No! Through all the clouds of his own
+confusion and the recipient's anger, the figure of a _Schnorrer_
+loomed too plain for mistake. None but a _Schnorrer_ would wear a
+home-made turban, issue of a black cap crossed with a white kerchief;
+none but a _Schnorrer_ would unbutton the first nine buttons of his
+waistcoat, or, if this relaxation were due to the warmth of the
+weather, counteract it by wearing an over-garment, especially one as
+heavy as a blanket, with buttons the size of compasses and flaps
+reaching nearly to his shoe-buckles, even though its length were only
+congruous with that of his undercoat, which already reached the
+bottoms of his knee-breeches. Finally, who but a _Schnorrer_ would
+wear this overcoat cloak-wise, with dangling sleeves, full of armless
+suggestion from a side view? Quite apart from the shabbiness of the
+snuff-coloured fabric, it was amply evident that the wearer did not
+dress by rule or measure. Yet the disproportions of his attire did but
+enhance the picturesqueness of a personality that would be striking
+even in a bath, though it was not likely to be seen there. The beard
+was jet black, sweeping and unkempt, and ran up his cheeks to meet the
+raven hair, so that the vivid face was framed in black; it was a long,
+tapering face with sanguine lips gleaming at the heart of a black
+bush; the eyes were large and lambent, set in deep sockets under black
+arching eyebrows; the nose was long and Coptic; the brow low but
+broad, with straggling wisps of hair protruding from beneath the
+turban. His right hand grasped a plain ashen staff.
+
+Worthy Joseph Grobstock found the figure of the mendicant only too
+impressive; he shrank uneasily before the indignant eyes.
+
+"I meant to help you," he repeated.
+
+"And this is how one helps a brother in Israel?" said the
+_Schnorrer_, throwing the paper contemptuously into the
+philanthropist's face. It struck him on the bridge of the nose, but
+impinged so mildly that he felt at once what was the matter. The
+packet was empty--the _Schnorrer_ had drawn a blank; the only one the
+good-natured man had put into the bag.
+
+[Illustration: "IT STRUCK HIM ON THE BRIDGE OF THE NOSE."]
+
+The _Schnorrer's_ audacity sobered Joseph Grobstock completely; it
+might have angered him to chastise the fellow, but it did not. His
+better nature prevailed; he began to feel shamefaced, fumbled
+sheepishly in his pocket for a crown; then hesitated, as fearing this
+peace-offering would not altogether suffice with so rare a spirit, and
+that he owed the stranger more than silver--an apology to wit. He
+proceeded honestly to pay it, but with a maladroit manner, as one
+unaccustomed to the currency.
+
+"You are an impertinent rascal," he said, "but I daresay you feel
+hurt. Let me assure you I did not know there was nothing in the
+packet. I did not, indeed."
+
+"Then your steward has robbed me!" exclaimed the _Schnorrer_
+excitedly. "You let him make up the packets, and he has stolen my
+money--the thief, the transgressor, thrice-cursed who robs the poor."
+
+"You don't understand," interrupted the magnate meekly. "I made up the
+packets myself."
+
+"Then, why do you say you did not know what was in them? Go, you mock
+my misery!"
+
+"Nay, hear me out!" urged Grobstock desperately. "In some I placed
+gold, in the greater number silver, in a few copper, in one
+alone--nothing. That is the one you have drawn. It is your
+misfortune."
+
+"_My_ misfortune!" echoed the _Schnorrer_ scornfully. "It is _your_
+misfortune--I did not even draw it. The Holy One, blessed be He, has
+punished you for your heartless jesting with the poor--making a
+sport for yourself of their misfortunes, even as the Philistines
+sported with Samson. The good deed you might have put to your account
+by a gratuity to me, God has taken from you. He has declared you
+unworthy of achieving righteousness through me. Go your way,
+murderer!"
+
+"Murderer!" repeated the philanthropist, bewildered by this harsh view
+of his action.
+
+"Yes, murderer! Stands it not in the Talmud that he who shames another
+is as one who spills his blood? And have you not put me to shame--if
+anyone had witnessed your almsgiving, would he not have laughed in my
+beard?"
+
+The pillar of the Synagogue felt as if his paunch were shrinking.
+
+"But the others--" he murmured deprecatingly. "I have not shed their
+blood--have I not given freely of my hard-earned gold?"
+
+"For your own diversion," retorted the _Schnorrer_ implacably. "But
+what says the Midrash? There is a wheel rolling in the world--not he
+who is rich to-day is rich to-morrow, but this one He brings up, and
+this one He brings down, as is said in the seventy-fifth Psalm.
+Therefore, lift not up your horn on high, nor speak with a stiff
+neck."
+
+He towered above the unhappy capitalist, like an ancient prophet
+denouncing a swollen monarch. The poor man put his hand involuntarily
+to his high collar as if to explain away his apparent arrogance, but
+in reality because he was not breathing easily under the _Schnorrer's_
+attack.
+
+"You are an uncharitable man," he panted hotly, driven to a line of
+defence he had not anticipated. "I did it not from wantonness, but
+from faith in Heaven. I know well that God sits turning a
+wheel--therefore I did not presume to turn it myself. Did I not let
+Providence select who should have the silver and who the gold, who the
+copper and who the emptiness? Besides, God alone knows who really
+needs my assistance--I have made Him my almoner; I have cast my burden
+on the Lord."
+
+"Epicurean!" shrieked the _Schnorrer_. "Blasphemer! Is it thus you
+would palter with the sacred texts? Do you forget what the next verse
+says: 'Bloodthirsty and deceitful men shall not live out half their
+days'? Shame on you--you a _Gabbai_ (treasurer) of the Great
+Synagogue. You see I know you, Joseph Grobstock. Has not the beadle of
+your Synagogue boasted to me that you have given him a guinea for
+brushing your spatterdashes? Would you think of offering _him_ a
+packet? Nay, it is the poor that are trodden on--they whose merits are
+in excess of those of beadles. But the Lord will find others to take
+up his loans--for he who hath pity on the poor lendeth to the Lord.
+You are no true son of Israel."
+
+The _Schnorrer's_ tirade was long enough to allow Grobstock to recover
+his dignity and his breath.
+
+"If you really knew me, you would know that the Lord is considerably
+in my debt," he rejoined quietly. "When next you would discuss me,
+speak with the Psalms-men, not the beadle. Never have I neglected the
+needy. Even now, though you have been insolent and uncharitable, I am
+ready to befriend you if you are in want."
+
+"If I am in want!" repeated the _Schnorrer_ scornfully. "Is there
+anything I do not want?"
+
+"You are married?"
+
+"You correct me--wife and children are the only things I do _not_
+lack."
+
+"No pauper does," quoth Grobstock, with a twinkle of restored humour.
+
+"No," assented the _Schnorrer_ sternly. "The poor man has the fear of
+Heaven. He obeys the Law and the Commandments. He marries while he is
+young--and his spouse is not cursed with barrenness. It is the rich
+man who transgresses the Judgment, who delays to come under the
+Canopy."
+
+"Ah! well, here is a guinea--in the name of my wife," broke
+in Grobstock laughingly. "Or stay--since you do not brush
+spatterdashes--here is another."
+
+"In the name of my wife," rejoined the _Schnorrer_ with dignity, "I
+thank you."
+
+"Thank me in your own name," said Grobstock. "I mean tell it me."
+
+"I am Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa," he answered simply.
+
+"A Sephardi!" exclaimed the philanthropist.
+
+"Is it not written on my face, even as it is written on yours that you
+are a Tedesco? It is the first time that I have taken gold from one of
+your lineage."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" murmured Grobstock, beginning to feel small again.
+
+"Yes--are we not far richer than your community? What need have I to
+take the good deeds away from my own people--they have too few
+opportunities for beneficence as it is, being so many of them wealthy;
+brokers and West India merchants, and--"
+
+"But I, too, am a financier, and an East India Director," Grobstock
+reminded him.
+
+"Maybe; but your community is yet young and struggling--your rich men
+are as the good men in Sodom for multitude. You are the immigrants of
+yesterday--refugees from the Ghettoes of Russia and Poland and
+Germany. But we, as you are aware, have been established here for
+generations; in the Peninsula our ancestors graced the courts of
+kings, and controlled the purse-strings of princes; in Holland we held
+the empery of trade. Ours have been the poets and scholars in Israel.
+You cannot expect that we should recognise your rabble, which
+prejudices us in the eyes of England. We made the name of Jew
+honourable; you degrade it. You are as the mixed multitude which came
+up with our forefathers out of Egypt."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Grobstock sharply. "All Israel are brethren."
+
+"Esau was the brother of Israel," answered Manasseh sententiously.
+"But you will excuse me if I go a-marketing, it is such a pleasure to
+handle gold." There was a note of wistful pathos in the latter remark
+which took off the edge of the former, and touched Joseph with
+compunction for bandying words with a hungry man whose loved ones were
+probably starving patiently at home.
+
+"Certainly, haste away," he said kindly.
+
+"I shall see you again," said Manasseh, with a valedictory wave of his
+hand, and digging his staff into the cobblestones he journeyed
+forwards without bestowing a single backward glance upon his
+benefactor.
+
+Grobstock's road took him to Petticoat Lane in the wake of Manasseh.
+He had no intention of following him, but did not see why he should
+change his route for fear of the _Schnorrer_, more especially as
+Manasseh did not look back. By this time he had become conscious again
+of the bag he carried, but he had no heart to proceed with the fun. He
+felt conscience stricken, and had recourse to his pockets instead in
+his progress through the narrow jostling market-street, where he
+scarcely ever bought anything personally save fish and good deeds. He
+was a connoisseur in both. To-day he picked up many a good deed cheap,
+paying pennies for articles he did not take away--shoe-latchets and
+cane-strings, barley-sugar and butter-cakes. Suddenly, through a chink
+in an opaque mass of human beings, he caught sight of a small
+attractive salmon on a fishmonger's slab. His eye glittered, his chops
+watered. He elbowed his way to the vendor, whose eye caught a
+corresponding gleam, and whose finger went to his hat in respectful
+greeting.
+
+"Good afternoon, Jonathan," said Grobstock jovially, "I'll take that
+salmon there--how much?"
+
+"Pardon me," said a voice in the crowd, "I am just bargaining for it."
+
+Grobstock started. It was the voice of Manasseh.
+
+"Stop that nonsense, da Costa," responded the fishmonger. "You know
+you won't give me my price. It is the only one I have left," he added,
+half for the benefit of Grobstock. "I couldn't let it go under a
+couple of guineas."
+
+"Here's your money," cried Manasseh with passionate contempt, and sent
+two golden coins spinning musically upon the slab.
+
+In the crowd sensation, in Grobstock's breast astonishment,
+indignation, and bitterness. He was struck momentarily dumb. His face
+purpled. The scales of the salmon shone like a celestial vision that
+was fading from him by his own stupidity.
+
+"I'll take that salmon, Jonathan," he repeated, spluttering. "Three
+guineas."
+
+"Pardon me," repeated Manasseh, "it is too late. This is not an
+auction." He seized the fish by the tail.
+
+Grobstock turned upon him, goaded to the point of apoplexy. "You!" he
+cried. "You--you--rogue! How dare you buy salmon!"
+
+[Illustration: "'YOU ROGUE! HOW DARE YOU BUY SALMON!'"]
+
+"Rogue yourself!" retorted Manasseh. "Would you have me steal
+salmon?"
+
+"You have stolen my money, knave, rascal!"
+
+"Murderer! Shedder of blood! Did you not give me the money as a
+free-will offering, for the good of your wife's soul? I call on you
+before all these witnesses to confess yourself a slanderer!"
+
+"Slanderer, indeed! I repeat, you are a knave and a jackanapes. You--a
+pauper--a beggar--with a wife and children. How can you have the face
+to go and spend two guineas--two whole guineas--all you have in the
+world--on a mere luxury like salmon?"
+
+Manasseh elevated his arched eyebrows.
+
+"If I do not buy salmon when I have two guineas," he answered quietly,
+"when shall I buy salmon? As you say, it is a luxury; very dear. It is
+only on rare occasions like this that my means run to it." There was a
+dignified pathos about the rebuke that mollified the magnate. He felt
+that there was reason in the beggar's point of view--though it was a
+point to which he would never himself have risen, unaided. But
+righteous anger still simmered in him; he felt vaguely that there was
+something to be said in reply, though he also felt that even if he
+knew what it was, it would have to be said in a lower key to
+correspond with Manasseh's transition from the high pitch of the
+opening passages. Not finding the requisite repartee he was silent.
+
+"In the name of my wife," went on Manasseh, swinging the salmon by the
+tail, "I ask you to clear my good name which you have bespattered in
+the presence of my very tradesmen. Again I call upon you to confess
+before these witnesses that you gave me the money yourself in charity.
+Come! Do you deny it?"
+
+"No, I don't deny it," murmured Grobstock, unable to understand why he
+appeared to himself like a whipped cur, or how what should have been a
+boast had been transformed into an apology to a beggar.
+
+"In the name of my wife, I thank you," said Manasseh. "She loves
+salmon, and fries with unction. And now, since you have no further use
+for that bag of yours, I will relieve you of its burden by taking my
+salmon home in it." He took the canvas bag from the limp grasp of the
+astonished Tedesco, and dropped the fish in. The head protruded,
+surveying the scene with a cold, glassy, ironical eye.
+
+[Illustration: "THE HEAD PROTRUDED."]
+
+"Good afternoon all," said the _Schnorrer_ courteously.
+
+"One moment," called out the philanthropist, when he found his tongue.
+"The bag is not empty--there are a number of packets still left in
+it."
+
+"So much the better!" said Manasseh soothingly. "You will be saved
+from the temptation to continue shedding the blood of the poor, and I
+shall be saved from spending _all_ your bounty upon salmon--an
+extravagance you were right to deplore."
+
+"But--but!" began Grobstock.
+
+"No--no 'buts,'" protested Manasseh, waving his bag deprecatingly.
+"You were right. You admitted you were wrong before; shall I be less
+magnanimous now? In the presence of all these witnesses I acknowledge
+the justice of your rebuke. I ought not to have wasted two guineas on
+one fish. It was not worth it. Come over here, and I will tell you
+something." He walked out of earshot of the by-standers, turning down
+a side alley opposite the stall, and beckoned with his salmon bag. The
+East India Director had no course but to obey. He would probably have
+followed him in any case, to have it out with him, but now he had a
+humiliating sense of being at the _Schnorrer's_ beck and call.
+
+"Well, what more have you to say?" he demanded gruffly.
+
+"I wish to save you money in future," said the beggar in low,
+confidential tones. "That Jonathan is a son of the separation! The
+salmon is not worth two guineas--no, on my soul! If you had not come
+up I should have got it for twenty-five shillings. Jonathan stuck on
+the price when he thought you would buy. I trust you will not let me
+be the loser by your arrival, and that if I should find less than
+seventeen shillings in the bag you will make it up to me."
+
+The bewildered financier felt his grievance disappearing as by sleight
+of hand.
+
+Manasseh added winningly: "I know you are a gentleman, capable of
+behaving as finely as any Sephardi."
+
+This handsome compliment completed the _Schnorrer's_ victory, which
+was sealed by his saying, "And so I should not like you to have it on
+your soul that you had done a poor man out of a few shillings."
+
+Grobstock could only remark meekly: "You will find more than seventeen
+shillings in the bag."
+
+"Ah, why were you born a Tedesco!" cried Manasseh ecstatically. "Do
+you know what I have a mind to do? To come and be your Sabbath-guest!
+Yes, I will take supper with you next Friday, and we will welcome the
+Bride--the holy Sabbath--together! Never before have I sat at the
+table of a Tedesco--but you--you are a man after my own heart. Your
+soul is a son of Spain. Next Friday at six--do not forget."
+
+"But--but I do not have Sabbath-guests," faltered Grobstock.
+
+"Not have Sabbath-guests! No, no, I will not believe you are of the
+sons of Belial, whose table is spread only for the rich, who do not
+proclaim your equality with the poor even once a week. It is your fine
+nature that would hide its benefactions. Do not I, Manasseh Bueno
+Barzillai Azevedo da Costa, have at my Sabbath-table every week
+Yankelé ben Yitzchok--a Pole? And if I have a Tedesco at my table, why
+should I draw the line there? Why should I not permit you, a Tedesco,
+to return the hospitality to me, a Sephardi? At six, then! I know your
+house well--it is an elegant building that does credit to your
+taste--do not be uneasy--I shall not fail to be punctual. _A Dios!_"
+
+This time he waved his stick fraternally, and stalked down a turning.
+For an instant Grobstock stood glued to the spot, crushed by a sense
+of the inevitable. Then a horrible thought occurred to him.
+
+[Illustration: "WAVED HIS STICK FRATERNALLY."]
+
+Easy-going man as he was, he might put up with the visitation of
+Manasseh. But then he had a wife, and, what was worse, a livery
+servant. How could he expect a livery servant to tolerate such a
+guest? He might fly from the town on Friday evening, but that would
+necessitate troublesome explanations. And Manasseh would come again
+the next Friday. That was certain. Manasseh would be like grim
+death--his coming, though it might be postponed, was inevitable. Oh,
+it was too terrible. At all costs he must revoke the invitation(?).
+Placed between Scylla and Charybdis, between Manasseh and his
+manservant, he felt he could sooner face the former.
+
+"Da Costa!" he called in agony. "Da Costa!"
+
+The _Schnorrer_ turned, and then Grobstock found he was mistaken in
+imagining he preferred to face da Costa.
+
+"You called me?" enquired the beggar.
+
+"Ye--e--s," faltered the East India Director, and stood paralysed.
+
+"What can I do for you?" said Manasseh graciously.
+
+"Would you mind--very much--if I--if I asked you--"
+
+"Not to come," was in his throat, but stuck there.
+
+"If you asked me--" said Manasseh encouragingly.
+
+"To accept some of my clothes," flashed Grobstock, with a sudden
+inspiration. After all, Manasseh was a fine figure of a man. If he
+could get him to doff those musty garments of his he might almost pass
+him off as a prince of the blood, foreign by his beard--at any rate he
+could be certain of making him acceptable to the livery servant. He
+breathed freely again at this happy solution of the situation.
+
+"Your cast-off clothes?" asked Manasseh. Grobstock was not sure
+whether the tone was supercilious or eager. He hastened to explain.
+"No, not quite that. Second-hand things I am still wearing. My old
+clothes were already given away at Passover to Simeon the Psalms-man.
+These are comparatively new."
+
+"Then I would beg you to excuse me," said Manasseh, with a stately
+wave of the bag.
+
+"Oh, but why not?" murmured Grobstock, his blood running cold again.
+
+"I cannot," said Manasseh, shaking his head.
+
+"But they will just about fit you," pleaded the philanthropist.
+
+"That makes it all the more absurd for you to give them to Simeon the
+Psalms-man," said Manasseh sternly. "Still, since he is your
+clothes-receiver, I could not think of interfering with his office. It
+is not etiquette. I am surprised you should ask me if I should mind.
+Of course I should mind--I should mind very much."
+
+"But he is not my clothes-receiver," protested Grobstock. "Last
+Passover was the first time I gave them to him, because my cousin,
+Hyam Rosenstein, who used to have them, has died."
+
+"But surely he considers himself your cousin's heir," said Manasseh.
+"He expects all your old clothes henceforth."
+
+"No. I gave him no such promise."
+
+Manasseh hesitated.
+
+"Well, in that case--"
+
+"In that case," repeated Grobstock breathlessly.
+
+"On condition that I am to have the appointment permanently, of
+course."
+
+"Of course," echoed Grobstock eagerly.
+
+"Because you see," Manasseh condescended to explain, "it hurts one's
+reputation to lose a client."
+
+"Yes, yes, naturally," said Grobstock soothingly. "I quite
+understand." Then, feeling himself slipping into future
+embarrassments, he added timidly, "Of course they will not always be
+so good as the first lot, because--"
+
+"Say no more," Manasseh interrupted reassuringly, "I will come at once
+and fetch them."
+
+"No. I will send them," cried Grobstock, horrified afresh.
+
+"I could not dream of permitting it. What! Shall I put you to all that
+trouble which should rightly be mine? I will go at once--the matter
+shall be settled without delay, I promise you; as it is written, 'I
+made haste and delayed not!' Follow me!" Grobstock suppressed a groan.
+Here had all his manoeuvring landed him in a worse plight than ever.
+He would have to present Manasseh to the livery servant without even
+that clean face which might not unreasonably have been expected for
+the Sabbath. Despite the text quoted by the erudite _Schnorrer_, he
+strove to put off the evil hour.
+
+"Had you not better take the salmon home to your wife first?" said he.
+
+"My duty is to enable you to complete your good deed at once. My wife
+is unaware of the salmon. She is in no suspense."
+
+Even as the _Schnorrer_ spake it flashed upon Grobstock that Manasseh
+was more presentable with the salmon than without it--in fact, that
+the salmon was the salvation of the situation. When Grobstock bought
+fish he often hired a man to carry home the spoil. Manasseh would have
+all the air of such a loafer. Who would suspect that the fish and even
+the bag belonged to the porter, though purchased with the gentleman's
+money? Grobstock silently thanked Providence for the ingenious way in
+which it had contrived to save his self-respect. As a mere
+fish-carrier Manasseh would attract no second glance from the
+household; once safely in, it would be comparatively easy to smuggle
+him out, and when he did come on Friday night it would be in the
+metamorphosing glories of a body-coat, with his unspeakable
+undergarment turned into a shirt and his turban knocked into a cocked
+hat.
+
+They emerged into Aldgate, and then turned down Leman Street, a
+fashionable quarter, and so into Great Prescott Street. At the
+critical street corner Grobstock's composure began to desert him: he
+took out his handsomely ornamented snuff-box and administered to
+himself a mighty pinch. It did him good, and he walked on and was well
+nigh arrived at his own door when Manasseh suddenly caught him by a
+coat button.
+
+[Illustration: "ADMINISTERED A MIGHTY PINCH."]
+
+"Stand still a second," he cried imperatively.
+
+"What is it?" murmured Grobstock, in alarm.
+
+"You have spilt snuff all down your coat front," Manasseh replied
+severely. "Hold the bag a moment while I brush it off."
+
+Joseph obeyed, and Manasseh scrupulously removed every particle with
+such patience that Grobstock's was exhausted.
+
+"Thank you," he said at last, as politely as he could. "That will do."
+
+"No, it will not do," replied Manasseh. "I cannot have my coat
+spoiled. By the time it comes to me it will be a mass of stains if I
+don't look after it."
+
+"Oh, is that why you took so much trouble?" said Grobstock, with an
+uneasy laugh.
+
+"Why else? Do you take me for a beadle, a brusher of gaiters?"
+enquired Manasseh haughtily. "There now! that is the cleanest I can
+get it. You would escape these droppings if you held your snuff-box
+so--" Manasseh gently took the snuff-box and began to explain, walking
+on a few paces.
+
+"Ah, we are at home!" he cried, breaking off the object-lesson
+suddenly. He pushed open the gate, ran up the steps of the mansion and
+knocked thunderously, then snuffed himself magnificently from the
+bejewelled snuff-box.
+
+Behind came Joseph Grobstock, slouching limply, and carrying Manasseh
+da Costa's fish.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE KING REIGNED.
+
+When he realised that he had been turned into a fish-porter, the
+financier hastened up the steps so as to be at the _Schnorrer's_ side
+when the door opened.
+
+The livery-servant was visibly taken aback by the spectacle of their
+juxtaposition.
+
+"This salmon to the cook!" cried Grobstock desperately, handing him
+the bag.
+
+[Illustration: "'THIS SALMON TO THE COOK!'"]
+
+Da Costa looked thunders, and was about to speak, but Grobstock's eye
+sought his in frantic appeal. "Wait a minute; I will settle with you,"
+he cried, congratulating himself on a phrase that would carry another
+meaning to Wilkinson's ears. He drew a breath of relief when the
+flunkey disappeared, and left them standing in the spacious hall with
+its statues and plants.
+
+"Is this the way you steal my salmon, after all?" demanded da Costa
+hotly.
+
+"Hush, hush! I didn't mean to steal it! I will pay you for it!"
+
+"I refuse to sell! You coveted it from the first--you have broken the
+Tenth Commandment, even as these stone figures violate the Second.
+Your invitation to me to accompany you here at once was a mere trick.
+Now I understand why you were so eager."
+
+"No, no, da Costa. Seeing that you placed the fish in my hands, I had
+no option but to give it to Wilkinson, because--because--" Grobstock
+would have had some difficulty in explaining, but Manasseh saved him
+the pain.
+
+"You had to give _my_ fish to Wilkinson!" he interrupted. "Sir, I
+thought you were a fine man, a man of honour. I admit that I placed my
+fish in your hands. But because I had no hesitation in allowing you to
+carry it, this is how you repay my confidence!"
+
+In the whirl of his thoughts Grobstock grasped at the word "repay" as
+a swimmer in a whirlpool grasps at a straw.
+
+"I will repay your money!" he cried. "Here are your two guineas. You
+will get another salmon, and more cheaply. As you pointed out, you
+could have got this for twenty-five shillings."
+
+"Two guineas!" ejaculated Manasseh contemptuously. "Why you offered
+Jonathan, the fishmonger, three!"
+
+Grobstock was astounded, but it was beneath him to bargain. And he
+remembered that, after all, he _would_ enjoy the salmon.
+
+"Well, here are three guineas," he said pacifically, offering them.
+
+"Three guineas!" echoed Manasseh, spurning them. "And what of my
+profit?"
+
+"Profit!" gasped Grobstock.
+
+"Since you have made me a middle-man, since you have forced me into
+the fish trade, I must have my profits like anybody else."
+
+"Here is a crown extra!"
+
+"And my compensation?"
+
+"What do you mean?" enquired Grobstock, exasperated. "Compensation for
+what?"
+
+"For what? For two things at the very least," Manasseh said
+unswervingly. "In the first place," and as he began his logically
+divided reply his tone assumed the sing-song sacred to Talmudical
+dialectics, "compensation for not eating the salmon myself. For it is
+not as if I offered it you--I merely entrusted it to you, and it is
+ordained in Exodus that if a man shall deliver unto his neighbour an
+ass, or an ox, or a sheep, or any beast to keep, then for every matter
+of trespass, whether it be for ox, for ass, for sheep, for raiment, or
+for any manner of lost thing, the man shall receive double, and
+therefore you should pay me six guineas. And secondly--"
+
+"Not another farthing!" spluttered Grobstock, red as a turkey-cock.
+
+"Very well," said the _Schnorrer_ imperturbably, and, lifting up his
+voice, he called "Wilkinson!"
+
+"Hush!" commanded Grobstock. "What are you doing?"
+
+"I will tell Wilkinson to bring back my property."
+
+"Wilkinson will not obey you."
+
+"Not obey _me_! A servant! Why he is not even black! All the Sephardim
+I visit have black pages--much grander than Wilkinson--and they
+tremble at my nod. At Baron D'Aguilar's mansion in Broad Street
+Buildings there is a retinue of twenty-four servants, and they--"
+
+"And what is your second claim?"
+
+"Compensation for being degraded to fishmongering. I am not of those
+who sell things in the streets. I am a son of the Law, a student of
+the Talmud."
+
+"If a crown piece will satisfy each of these claims--"
+
+"I am not a blood-sucker--as it is said in the Talmud, Tractate
+Passover, 'God loves the man who gives not way to wrath nor stickles
+for his rights'--that makes altogether three guineas and three
+crowns."
+
+"Yes. Here they are."
+
+Wilkinson reappeared. "You called me, sir?" he said.
+
+"No, _I_ called you," said Manasseh, "I wished to give you a crown."
+
+And he handed him one of the three. Wilkinson took it, stupefied, and
+retired.
+
+"Did I not get rid of him cleverly?" said Manasseh. "You see how he
+obeys me!"
+
+"Ye-es."
+
+"I shall not ask you for more than the bare crown I gave him to save
+your honour."
+
+"To save my honour!"
+
+"Would you have had me tell him the real reason I called him was that
+his master was a thief? No, sir, I was careful not to shed your blood
+in public, though you had no such care for mine."
+
+"Here is the crown!" said Grobstock savagely. "Nay, here are three!"
+He turned out his breeches-pockets to exhibit their absolute nudity.
+
+"No, no," said Manasseh mildly, "I shall take but two. You had best
+keep the other--you may want a little silver." He pressed it into the
+magnate's hand.
+
+"You should not be so prodigal in future," he added, in kindly
+reproach. "It is bad to be left with nothing in one's pocket--I know
+the feeling, and can sympathise with you." Grobstock stood speechless,
+clasping the crown of charity.
+
+Standing thus at the hall door, he had the air of Wilkinson, surprised
+by a too generous vail.
+
+Da Costa cut short the crisis by offering his host a pinch from the
+jewel-crusted snuff-box. Grobstock greedily took the whole box, the
+beggar resigning it to him without protest. In his gratitude for this
+unexpected favour, Grobstock pocketed the silver insult without
+further ado, and led the way towards the second-hand clothes. He
+walked gingerly, so as not to awaken his wife, who was a great amateur
+of the siesta, and might issue suddenly from her apartment like a
+spider, but Manasseh stolidly thumped on the stairs with his staff.
+Happily the carpet was thick.
+
+The clothes hung in a mahogany wardrobe with a plateglass front in
+Grobstock's elegantly appointed bedchamber.
+
+Grobstock rummaged among them while Manasseh, parting the white
+Persian curtains lined with pale pink, gazed out of the window towards
+the Tenterground that stretched in the rear of the mansion. Leaning on
+his staff, he watched the couples promenading among the sunlit
+parterres and amid the shrubberies, in the cool freshness of declining
+day. Here and there the vivid face of a dark-eyed beauty gleamed like
+a passion-flower. Manasseh surveyed the scene with bland benevolence;
+at peace with God and man.
+
+[Illustration: "GROBSTOCK RUMMAGED AMONG THEM."]
+
+He did not deign to bestow a glance upon the garments till Grobstock
+observed: "There! I think that's all I can spare." Then he turned
+leisurely and regarded--with the same benign aspect--the litter
+Grobstock had spread upon the bed--a medley of articles in excellent
+condition, gorgeous neckerchiefs piled in three-cornered hats, and
+buckled shoes trampling on white waistcoats. But his eye had scarcely
+rested on them a quarter of a minute when a sudden flash came into it,
+and a spasm crossed his face.
+
+"Excuse me!" he cried, and hastened towards the door.
+
+"What's the matter?" exclaimed Grobstock, in astonished apprehension.
+Was his gift to be flouted thus?
+
+"I'll be back in a moment," said Manasseh, and hurried down the
+stairs.
+
+Relieved on one point, Grobstock was still full of vague alarms. He
+ran out on the landing. "What do you want?" he called down as loudly
+as he dared.
+
+"My money!" said Manasseh.
+
+Imagining that the _Schnorrer_ had left the proceeds of the sale of
+the salmon in the hall, Joseph Grobstock returned to his room, and
+occupied himself half-mechanically in sorting the garments he had
+thrown higgledy-piggledy upon the bed. In so doing he espied amid the
+heap a pair of pantaloons entirely new and unworn which he had
+carelessly thrown in. It was while replacing this in the wardrobe that
+he heard sounds of objurgation. The cook's voice--Hibernian and
+high-pitched--travelled unmistakably to his ears, and brought fresh
+trepidation to his heart. He repaired to the landing again, and craned
+his neck over the balustrade. Happily the sounds were evanescent; in
+another minute Manasseh's head reappeared, mounting. When his left
+hand came in sight, Grobstock perceived it was grasping the lucky-bag
+with which a certain philanthropist had started out so joyously that
+afternoon. The unlucky-bag he felt inclined to dub it now.
+
+"I have recovered it!" observed the _Schnorrer_ cheerfully. "As it is
+written, 'And David recovered all that the Amalekites had taken.' You
+see in the excitement of the moment I did not notice that you had
+stolen my packets of silver as well as my salmon. Luckily your cook
+had not yet removed the fish from the bag--I chid her all the same for
+neglecting to put it into water, and she opened her mouth not in
+wisdom. If she had not been a heathen I should have suspected her of
+trickery, for I knew nothing of the amount of money in the bag, saving
+your assurance that it did not fall below seventeen shillings, and it
+would have been easy for her to replace the fish. Therefore, in the
+words of David, will I give thanks unto Thee, O Lord, among the
+heathen."
+
+The mental vision of the irruption of Manasseh into the kitchen was
+not pleasant to Grobstock. However, he only murmured: "How came you to
+think of it so suddenly?"
+
+"Looking at your clothes reminded me. I was wondering if you had left
+anything in the pockets."
+
+The donor started--he knew himself a careless rascal--and made as if
+he would overhaul his garments. The glitter in Manasseh's eye
+petrified him.
+
+"Do you--do you--mind my looking?" he stammered apologetically.
+
+"Am I a dog?" quoted the _Schnorrer_ with dignity. "Am I a thief that
+you should go over my pockets? If, when I get home," he conceded,
+commencing to draw distinctions with his thumb, "I should find
+anything in my pockets that is of no value to anybody but you, do you
+fear I will not return it? If, on the other hand, I find anything that
+is of value to me, do you fear I will not keep it?"
+
+"No, but--but--" Grobstock broke down, scarcely grasping the
+argumentation despite his own clarity of financial insight; he only
+felt vaguely that the _Schnorrer_ was--professionally enough--begging
+the question.
+
+"But what?" enquired Manasseh. "Surely you need not me to teach you
+your duty. You cannot be ignorant of the Law of Moses on the point."
+
+"The Law of Moses says nothing on the point!"
+
+"Indeed! What says Deuteronomy? 'When thou reapest thine harvest in
+thy field, and hast forgot a sheaf in the field, thou shalt not go
+again to fetch it: it shall be for the stranger, for the fatherless,
+and for the widow.' Is it not further forbidden to go over the boughs
+of thy olive-tree again, or to gather the fallen fruit of thy
+vineyard? You will admit that Moses would have added a prohibition
+against searching minutely the pockets of cast-off garments, were it
+not that for forty years our ancestors had to wander in the wilderness
+in the same clothes, which miraculously waxed with their growth. No, I
+feel sure you will respect the spirit of the law, for when I went down
+into your kitchen and examined the door-post to see if you had nailed
+up a _mezuzah_ upon it, knowing that many Jews only flaunt _mezuzahs_
+on door-posts visible to visitors, it rejoiced me to find one below
+stairs."
+
+Grobstock's magnanimity responded to the appeal. It would be indeed
+petty to scrutinise his pockets, or to feel the linings for odd coins.
+After all he had Manasseh's promise to restore papers and everything
+of no value.
+
+"Well, well," he said pleasantly, consoled by the thought his troubles
+had now come to an end--for that day at least--"take them away as they
+are."
+
+"It is all very well to say take them away," replied Manasseh, with a
+touch of resentment, "but what am I to take them in?"
+
+"Oh--ah--yes! There must be a sack somewhere--"
+
+"And do you think I would carry them away in a sack? Would you have me
+look like an old clo' man? I must have a box. I see several in the
+box-room."
+
+"Very well," said Grobstock resignedly. "If there's an empty one you
+may have it."
+
+Manasseh laid his stick on the dressing-table and carefully examined
+the boxes, some of which were carelessly open, while every lock had a
+key sticking in it. They had travelled far and wide with Grobstock,
+who invariably combined pleasure with business.
+
+[Illustration: "MANASSEH CAREFULLY EXAMINED THE BOXES."]
+
+"There is none quite empty," announced the _Schnorrer_, "but in this
+one there are only a few trifles--a pair of galligaskins and such
+like--so that if you make me a present of them the box _will_ be
+empty, so far as you are concerned."
+
+"All right," said Grobstock, and actually laughed. The nearer the
+departure of the _Schnorrer_, the higher his spirits rose.
+
+Manasseh dragged the box towards the bed, and then for the first time
+since his return from the under-regions, surveyed the medley of
+garments upon it.
+
+The light-hearted philanthropist, watching his face, saw it instantly
+change to darkness, like a tropical landscape. His own face grew
+white. The _Schnorrer_ uttered an inarticulate cry, and turned a
+strange, questioning glance upon his patron.
+
+"What is it now?" faltered Grobstock.
+
+"I miss a pair of pantaloons!"
+
+[Illustration: "'I MISS A PAIR OF PANTALOONS!' HE SHRIEKED."]
+
+Grobstock grew whiter. "Nonsense! nonsense!" he muttered.
+
+"I--miss--a--pair--of--pantaloons!" reiterated the _Schnorrer_
+deliberately.
+
+"Oh, no--you have all I can spare there," said Grobstock uneasily. The
+_Schnorrer_ hastily turned over the heap.
+
+Then his eye flashed fire; he banged his fist on the dressing-table to
+accompany each _staccato_ syllable.
+
+"I--miss--a--pair--of--pan--ta--loons!" he shrieked.
+
+The weak and ductile donor had a bad quarter of a minute.
+
+"Perhaps," he stammered at last, "you--m--mean--the new pair I found
+had got accidentally mixed up with them."
+
+"Of course I mean the new pair! And so you took them away! Just
+because I wasn't looking. I left the room, thinking I had to do with a
+man of honour. If you had taken an old pair I shouldn't have minded so
+much; but to rob a poor man of his brand-new breeches!"
+
+"I must have them," cried Grobstock irascibly. "I have to go to a
+reception to-morrow, and they are the only pair I shall have to wear.
+You see I--"
+
+"Oh, very well," interrupted the _Schnorrer_, in low, indifferent
+tones.
+
+After that there was a dead silence. The _Schnorrer_ majestically
+folded some silk stockings and laid them in the box. Upon them he
+packed other garments in stern, sorrowful _hauteur_. Grobstock's soul
+began to tingle with pricks of compunction. Da Costa completed his
+task, but could not shut the overcrowded box. Grobstock silently
+seated his weighty person upon the lid. Manasseh neither resented nor
+welcomed him. When he had turned the key he mutely tilted the sitter
+off the box and shouldered it with consummate ease. Then he took his
+staff and strode from the room. Grobstock would have followed him, but
+the _Schnorrer_ waved him back.
+
+[Illustration: "TILTED THE SITTER OFF THE BOX."]
+
+"On Friday, then," the conscience-stricken magnate said feebly.
+
+Manasseh did not reply; he slammed the door instead, shutting in the
+master of the house.
+
+Grobstock fell back on the bed exhausted, looking not unlike the
+tumbled litter of clothes he replaced. In a minute or two he raised
+himself and went to the window, and stood watching the sun set behind
+the trees of the Tenterground. "At any rate I've done with him," he
+said, and hummed a tune. The sudden bursting open of the door froze it
+upon his lips. He was almost relieved to find the intruder was only
+his wife.
+
+"What have you done with Wilkinson?" she cried vehemently. She was a
+pale, puffy-faced, portly matron, with a permanent air of remembering
+the exact figure of her dowry.
+
+"With Wilkinson, my dear? Nothing."
+
+"Well, he isn't in the house. I want him, but cook says you've sent
+him out."
+
+"I? Oh, no," he returned, with dawning uneasiness, looking away from
+her sceptical gaze.
+
+Suddenly his pupils dilated. A picture from without had painted itself
+on his retina. It was a picture of Wilkinson--Wilkinson the austere,
+Wilkinson the unbending--treading the Tenterground gravel, curved
+beneath a box! Before him strode the _Schnorrer_.
+
+Never during all his tenure of service in Goodman's Fields had
+Wilkinson carried anything on his shoulders but his livery. Grobstock
+would have as soon dreamt of his wife consenting to wear cotton. He
+rubbed his eyes, but the image persisted.
+
+He clutched at the window curtains to steady himself.
+
+"My Persian curtains!" cried his wife. "What is the matter with you?"
+
+"He must be the Baal Shem himself!" gasped Grobstock unheeding.
+
+"What is it? What are you looking at?"
+
+"N--nothing."
+
+Mrs. Grobstock incredulously approached the window and stared through
+the panes. She saw Wilkinson in the gardens, but did not recognise him
+in his new attitude. She concluded that her husband's agitation must
+have some connection with a beautiful brunette who was tasting the
+cool of the evening in a sedan chair, and it was with a touch of
+asperity that she said: "Cook complains of being insulted by a saucy
+fellow who brought home your fish."
+
+"Oh!" said poor Grobstock. Was he never to be done with the man?
+
+"How came you to send him to her?"
+
+His anger against Manasseh resurged under his wife's peevishness.
+
+"My dear," he cried, "I did not send him anywhere--except to the
+devil."
+
+"Joseph! You might keep such language for the ears of creatures in
+sedan chairs."
+
+And Mrs. Grobstock flounced out of the room with a rustle of angry
+satin.
+
+When Wilkinson reappeared, limp and tired, with his pompousness exuded
+in perspiration, he sought his master with a message, which he
+delivered ere the flood of interrogation could burst from Grobstock's
+lips.
+
+"Mr. da Costa presents his compliments, and says that he has decided
+on reconsideration not to break his promise to be with you on Friday
+evening."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" said Grobstock grimly. "And, pray, how came you to carry
+his box?"
+
+"You told me to, sir!"
+
+"_I_ told you!"
+
+"I mean he told me you told me to," said Wilkinson wonderingly.
+"Didn't you?"
+
+Grobstock hesitated. Since Manasseh _would_ be his guest, was it not
+imprudent to give him away to the livery-servant? Besides, he felt a
+secret pleasure in Wilkinson's humiliation--but for the _Schnorrer_ he
+would never have known that Wilkinson's gold lace concealed a pliable
+personality. The proverb "Like master like man" did not occur to
+Grobstock at this juncture.
+
+"I only meant you to carry it to a coach," he murmured.
+
+"He said it was not worth while--the distance was so short."
+
+"Ah! Did you see his house?" enquired Grobstock curiously.
+
+"Yes; a very fine house in Aldgate, with a handsome portico and two
+stone lions."
+
+Grobstock strove hard not to look surprised.
+
+"I handed the box to the footman."
+
+Grobstock strove harder.
+
+Wilkinson ended with a weak smile: "Would you believe, sir, I thought
+at first he brought home your fish! He dresses so peculiarly. He must
+be an original."
+
+"Yes, yes; an eccentric like Baron D'Aguilar, whom he visits," said
+Grobstock eagerly. He wondered, indeed, whether he was not speaking
+the truth. Could he have been the victim of a practical joke, a prank?
+Did not a natural aristocracy ooze from every pore of his mysterious
+visitor? Was not every tone, every gesture, that of a man born to
+rule? "You must remember, too," he added, "that he is a Spaniard."
+
+"Ah, I see," said Wilkinson in profound accents.
+
+"I daresay he dresses like everybody else, though, when he dines or
+sups out," Grobstock added lightly. "I only brought him in by
+accident. But go to your mistress! She wants you."
+
+"Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you he hopes you will save
+him a slice of his salmon."
+
+"Go to your mistress!"
+
+"You did not tell me a Spanish nobleman was coming to us on Friday,"
+said his spouse later in the evening.
+
+"No," he admitted curtly.
+
+"But is he?"
+
+"No--at least, not a nobleman."
+
+"What then? I have to learn about my guests from my servants."
+
+"Apparently."
+
+"Oh! and you think that's right!"
+
+"To gossip with your servants? Certainly not."
+
+"If my husband will not tell me anything--if he has only eyes for
+sedan chairs."
+
+Joseph thought it best to kiss Mrs. Grobstock.
+
+[Illustration: "THOUGHT IT BEST TO KISS MRS. GROBSTOCK."]
+
+"A fellow-Director, I suppose?" she urged, more mildly.
+
+"A fellow-Israelite. He has promised to come at six."
+
+Manasseh was punctual to the second. Wilkinson ushered him in. The
+hostess had robed herself in her best to do honour to a situation
+which her husband awaited with what hope he could. She looked radiant
+in a gown of blue silk; her hair was done in a tuft and round her neck
+was an "esclavage," consisting of festoons of gold chains. The Sabbath
+table was equally festive with its ponderous silver candelabra,
+coffee-urn, and consecration cup, its flower-vases, and fruit-salvers.
+The dining-room itself was a handsome apartment; its buffets glittered
+with Venetian glass and Dresden porcelain, and here and there gilt
+pedestals supported globes of gold and silver fish.
+
+At the first glance at his guest Grobstock's blood ran cold.
+
+Manasseh had not turned a hair, nor changed a single garment. At the
+next glance Grobstock's blood boiled. A second figure loomed in
+Manasseh's wake--a short _Schnorrer_, even dingier than da Costa, and
+with none of his dignity, a clumsy, stooping _Schnorrer_, with a
+cajoling grin on his mud-coloured, hairy face. Neither removed his
+headgear.
+
+Mrs. Grobstock remained glued to her chair in astonishment.
+
+"Peace be unto you," said the King of _Schnorrers_, "I have brought
+with me my friend Yankelé ben Yitzchok of whom I told you."
+
+Yankelé nodded, grinning harder than ever.
+
+"You never told me he was coming," Grobstock rejoined, with an
+apoplectic air.
+
+"Did I not tell you that he always supped with me on Friday evenings?"
+Manasseh reminded him quietly. "It is so good of him to accompany me
+even here--he will make the necessary third at grace."
+
+The host took a frantic surreptitious glance at his wife. It was
+evident that her brain was in a whirl, the evidence of her senses
+conflicting with vague doubts of the possibilities of Spanish
+grandeeism and with a lingering belief in her husband's sanity.
+
+Grobstock resolved to snatch the benefit of her doubts. "My dear,"
+said he, "this is Mr. da Costa."
+
+"Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa," said the _Schnorrer_.
+
+The dame seemed a whit startled and impressed. She bowed, but words of
+welcome were still congealed in her throat.
+
+"And this is Yankelé ben Yitzchok," added Manasseh. "A poor friend of
+mine. I do not doubt, Mrs. Grobstock, that as a pious woman, the
+daughter of Moses Bernberg (his memory for a blessing), you prefer
+grace with three."
+
+[Illustration: "'AND THIS IS YANKELÉ BEN YITZCHOK,' ADDED MANASSEH."]
+
+"Any friend of yours is welcome!" She found her lips murmuring the
+conventional phrase without being able to check their output.
+
+"I never doubted that either," said Manasseh gracefully. "Is not the
+hospitality of Moses Bernberg's beautiful daughter a proverb?"
+
+Moses Bernberg's daughter could not deny this; her salon was the
+rendezvous of rich bagmen, brokers and bankers, tempered by occasional
+young bloods and old bucks not of the Jewish faith (nor any other).
+But she had never before encountered a personage so magnificently
+shabby, nor extended her proverbial hospitality to a Polish
+_Schnorrer_ uncompromisingly musty. Joseph did not dare meet her eye.
+
+"Sit down there, Yankelé," he said hurriedly, in ghastly genial
+accents, and he indicated a chair at the farthest possible point from
+the hostess. He placed Manasseh next to his Polish parasite, and
+seated himself as a buffer between his guests and his wife. He was
+burning with inward indignation at the futile rifling of his wardrobe,
+but he dared not say anything in the hearing of his spouse.
+
+"It is a beautiful custom, this of the Sabbath guest, is it not, Mrs.
+Grobstock?" remarked Manasseh as he took his seat. "I never neglect
+it--even when I go out to the Sabbath-meal as to-night."
+
+The late Miss Bernberg was suddenly reminded of auld lang syne: her
+father (who according to a wag of the period had divided his time
+between the Law and the profits) having been a depositary of ancient
+tradition. Perhaps these obsolescent customs, unsuited to prosperous
+times, had lingered longer among the Spanish grandees. She seized an
+early opportunity, when the Sephardic _Schnorrer_ was taking his
+coffee from Wilkinson, of putting the question to her husband, who
+fell in weakly with her illusions. He knew there was no danger of
+Manasseh's beggarly status leaking out; no expressions of gratitude
+were likely to fall from that gentleman's lips. He even hinted that da
+Costa dressed so fustily to keep his poor friend in countenance.
+Nevertheless, Mrs. Grobstock, while not without admiration for the
+Quixotism, was not without resentment for being dragged into it. She
+felt that such charity should begin and end at home.
+
+"I see you did save me a slice of salmon," said Manasseh, manipulating
+his fish.
+
+"What salmon was that?" asked the hostess, pricking up her ears.
+
+"One I had from Mr. da Costa on Wednesday," said the host.
+
+"Oh, that! It was delicious. I am sure it was very kind of you, Mr. da
+Costa, to make us such a nice present," said the hostess, her
+resentment diminishing. "We had company last night, and everybody
+praised it till none was left. This is another, but I hope it is to
+your liking," she finished anxiously.
+
+"Yes, it's very fair, very fair, indeed. I don't know when I've tasted
+better, except at the house of the President of the _Deputados_. But
+Yankelé here is a connoisseur in fish, not easy to please. What say
+you, Yankelé?"
+
+Yankelé munched a muffled approval.
+
+"Help yourself to more bread and butter, Yankelé," said Manasseh.
+"Make yourself at home--remember you're my guest." Silently he added:
+"The other fork!"
+
+Grobstock's irritation found vent in a complaint that the salad wanted
+vinegar.
+
+"How can you say so? It's perfect," said Mrs. Grobstock. "Salad is
+cook's speciality."
+
+Manasseh tasted it critically. "On salads you must come to me," he
+said. "It does not want vinegar," was his verdict; "but a little more
+oil would certainly improve it. Oh, there is no one dresses salad like
+Hyman!"
+
+Hyman's fame as the _Kosher chef_ who superintended the big dinners at
+the London Tavern had reached Mrs. Grobstock's ears, and she was
+proportionately impressed.
+
+"They say his pastry is so good," she observed, to be in the running.
+
+"Yes," said Manasseh, "in kneading and puffing he stands alone."
+
+"Our cook's tarts are quite as nice," said Grobstock roughly.
+
+"We shall see," Manasseh replied guardedly. "Though, as for
+almond-cakes, Hyman himself makes none better than I get from my
+cousin, Barzillai of Fenchurch Street."
+
+"Your cousin!" exclaimed Grobstock, "the West Indian merchant!"
+
+"The same--formerly of Barbadoes. Still, your cook knows how to make
+coffee, though I can tell you do not get it direct from the plantation
+like the wardens of my Synagogue."
+
+Grobstock was once again piqued with curiosity as to the _Schnorrer's_
+identity.
+
+"You accuse me of having stone figures in my house," he said boldly,
+"but what about the lions in front of yours?"
+
+"I have no lions," said Manasseh.
+
+"Wilkinson told me so. Didn't you, Wilkinson?"
+
+"Wilkinson is a slanderer. That was the house of Nathaniel Furtado."
+
+Grobstock began to choke with chagrin. He perceived at once that the
+_Schnorrer_ had merely had the clothes conveyed direct to the house of
+a wealthy private dealer.
+
+"Take care!" exclaimed the _Schnorrer_ anxiously, "you are spluttering
+sauce all over that waistcoat, without any consideration for me."
+
+Joseph suppressed himself with an effort. Open discussion would betray
+matters to his wife, and he was now too deeply enmeshed in falsehoods
+by default. But he managed to whisper angrily, "Why did you tell
+Wilkinson I ordered him to carry your box?"
+
+"To save your credit in his eyes. How was he to know we had
+quarrelled? He would have thought you discourteous to your guest."
+
+"That's all very fine. But why did you sell my clothes?"
+
+"You did not expect me to wear them? No, I know my station, thank
+God."
+
+"What is that you are saying, Mr. da Costa?" asked the hostess.
+
+"Oh, we are talking of Dan Mendoza," replied Grobstock glibly;
+"wondering if he'll beat Dick Humphreys at Doncaster."
+
+"Oh, Joseph, didn't you have enough of Dan Mendoza at supper last
+night?" protested his wife.
+
+"It is not a subject _I_ ever talk about," said the _Schnorrer_,
+fixing his host with a reproachful glance.
+
+Grobstock desperately touched his foot under the table, knowing he was
+selling his soul to the King of _Schnorrers_, but too flaccid to face
+the moment.
+
+"No, da Costa doesn't usually," he admitted. "Only Dan Mendoza being a
+Portuguese I happened to ask if he was ever seen in the Synagogue."
+
+"If I had my way," growled da Costa, "he should be excommunicated--a
+bruiser, a defacer of God's image!"
+
+"By gad, no!" cried Grobstock, stirred up. "If you had seen him lick
+the Badger in thirty-five minutes on a twenty-four foot stage--"
+
+"Joseph! Joseph! Remember it is the Sabbath!" cried Mrs. Grobstock.
+
+"I would willingly exchange our Dan Mendoza for your David Levi," said
+da Costa severely.
+
+David Levi was the literary ornament of the Ghetto; a shoe-maker and
+hat-dresser who cultivated Hebrew philology and the Muses, and broke a
+lance in defence of his creed with Dr. Priestley, the discoverer of
+Oxygen, and Tom Paine, the discoverer of Reason.
+
+"Pshaw! David Levi! The mad hatter!" cried Grobstock. "He makes
+nothing at all out of his books."
+
+"You should subscribe for more copies," retorted Manasseh.
+
+"I would if you wrote them," rejoined Grobstock, with a grimace.
+
+"I got six copies of his _Lingua Sacra_," Manasseh declared with
+dignity, "and a dozen of his translation of the Pentateuch."
+
+"You can afford it!" snarled Grobstock, with grim humour. "I have to
+earn my money."
+
+"It is very good of Mr. da Costa, all the same," interposed the
+hostess. "How many men, born to great possessions, remain quite
+indifferent to learning!"
+
+"True, most true," said da Costa. "Men-of-the-Earth, most of them."
+
+After supper he trolled the Hebrew grace hilariously, assisted by
+Yankelé, and ere he left he said to the hostess, "May the Lord bless
+you with children!"
+
+"Thank you," she answered, much moved.
+
+"You see I should be so pleased to marry your daughter if you had
+one."
+
+"You are very complimentary," she murmured, but her husband's
+exclamation drowned hers, "You marry my daughter!"
+
+"Who else moves among better circles--would be more easily able to
+find her a suitable match?"
+
+"Oh, in _that_ sense," said Grobstock, mollified in one direction,
+irritated in another.
+
+"In what other sense? You do not think I, a Sephardi, would marry her
+myself!"
+
+"My daughter does not need your assistance," replied Grobstock
+shortly.
+
+"Not yet," admitted Manasseh, rising to go; "but when the time comes,
+where will you find a better marriage broker? I have had a finger in
+the marriage of greater men's daughters. You see, when I recommend a
+maiden or a young man it is from no surface knowledge. I have seen
+them in the intimacy of their homes--above all I am able to say
+whether they are of a good, charitable disposition. Good Sabbath!"
+
+"Good Sabbath," murmured the host and hostess in farewell. Mrs.
+Grobstock thought he need not be above shaking hands, for all his
+grand acquaintances.
+
+"This way, Yankelé," said Manasseh, showing him to the door. "I am so
+glad you were able to come--you must come again."
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+SHOWING HOW HIS MAJESTY WENT TO THE THEATRE AND WAS WOOED.
+
+As Manasseh the Great, first beggar in Europe, sauntered across
+Goodman's Fields, attended by his Polish parasite, both serenely
+digesting the supper provided by the Treasurer of the Great Synagogue,
+Joseph Grobstock, a martial music clove suddenly the quiet evening
+air, and set the _Schnorrers'_ pulses bounding. From the Tenterground
+emerged a squad of recruits, picturesque in white fatigue dress,
+against which the mounted officers showed gallant in blue surtouts and
+scarlet-striped trousers.
+
+"Ah!" said da Costa, with swelling breast. "There go my soldiers!"
+
+[Illustration: "'THERE GO MY SOLDIERS.'"]
+
+"Your soldiers!" ejaculated Yankelé in astonishment.
+
+"Yes--do you not see they are returning to the India House in
+Leadenhall Street?"
+
+"And vat of dat?" said Yankelé, shrugging his shoulders and spreading
+out his palms.
+
+"What of that? Surely you have not forgotten that the clodpate at
+whose house I have just entertained you is a Director of the East
+India Company, whose soldiers these are?"
+
+"Oh," said Yankelé, his mystified face relaxing in a smile. The smile
+fled before the stern look in the Spaniard's eyes; he hastened to
+conceal his amusement. Yankelé was by nature a droll, and it cost him
+a good deal to take his patron as seriously as that potentate took
+himself. Perhaps if Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa had had
+more humour he would have had less momentum. Your man of action is
+blind in one eye. Cæsar would not have come and conquered if he had
+really seen.
+
+Wounded by that temporary twinkle in his client's eye, the patron
+moved on silently, in step with the military air.
+
+"It is a beautiful night," observed Yankelé in contrition. The words
+had hardly passed his lips before he became conscious that he had
+spoken the truth. The moon was peeping from behind a white cloud, and
+the air was soft, and broken shadows of foliage lay across the path,
+and the music was a song of love and bravery. Somehow, Yankelé began
+to think of da Costa's lovely daughter. Her face floated in the
+moonlight.
+
+Manasseh shrugged his shoulders, unappeased.
+
+"When one has supped well, it is always a beautiful night," he said
+testily. It was as if the cloud had overspread the moon, and a thick
+veil had fallen over the face of da Costa's lovely daughter. But
+Yankelé recovered himself quickly.
+
+"Ah, yes," he said, "you have indeed made it a beaudiful night for
+me."
+
+The King of _Schnorrers_ waved his staff deprecatingly.
+
+"It is alvays a beaudiful night ven I am mid _you_," added Yankelé,
+undaunted.
+
+"It is strange," replied Manasseh musingly, "that I should have
+admitted to my hearth and Grobstock's table one who is, after all, but
+a half-brother in Israel."
+
+"But Grobstock is also a Tedesco," protested Yankelé.
+
+"That is also what I wonder at," rejoined da Costa. "I cannot make out
+how I have come to be so familiar with him."
+
+"You see!" ventured the Tedesco timidly. "P'raps ven Grobstock had
+really had a girl you might even have come to marry her."
+
+"Guard your tongue! A Sephardi cannot marry a Tedesco! It would be a
+degradation."
+
+"Yes--but de oder vay round. A Tedesco _can_ marry a Sephardi, not so?
+Dat is a rise. If Grobstock's daughter had married you, she vould have
+married above her," he ended, with an ingenuous air.
+
+"True," admitted Manasseh. "But then, as Grobstock's daughter does not
+exist, and my wife does--!"
+
+"Ah, but if you vas me," said Yankelé, "vould you rader marry a
+Tedesco or a Sephardi?"
+
+"A Sephardi, of course. But--"
+
+"I vill be guided by you," interrupted the Pole hastily. "You be de
+visest man I have ever known."
+
+"But--" Manasseh repeated.
+
+"Do not deny it. You be! Instantly vill I seek out a Sephardi maiden
+and ved her. P'raps you crown your counsel by choosing von for me.
+Vat?"
+
+Manasseh was visibly mollified.
+
+"How do I know your taste?" he asked hesitatingly.
+
+"Oh, any Spanish girl would be a prize," replied Yankelé. "Even ven
+she had a face like a Passover cake. But still I prefer a Pentecost
+blossom."
+
+"What kind of beauty do you like best?"
+
+"Your daughter's style," plumply answered the Pole.
+
+"But there are not many like that," said da Costa unsuspiciously.
+
+"No--she is like de Rose of Sharon. But den dere are not many handsome
+faders."
+
+Manasseh bethought himself. "There is Gabriel, the corpse-watcher's
+daughter. People consider his figure and deportment good."
+
+"Pooh! Offal! She's ugly enough to keep de Messiah from coming. Vy,
+she's like cut out of de fader's face! Besides, consider his
+occupation! You vould not advise dat I marry into such a low family!
+Be you not my benefactor?"
+
+"Well, but I cannot think of any good-looking girl that would be
+suitable."
+
+Yankelé looked at him with a roguish, insinuating smile. "Say not dat!
+Have you not told Grobstock you be de first of marriage-brokers?"
+
+But Manasseh shook his head.
+
+"No, you be quite right," said Yankelé humbly; "I could not get a
+really beaudiful girl unless I married your Deborah herself."
+
+"No, I am afraid not," said Manasseh sympathetically.
+
+Yankelé took the plunge.
+
+"Ah, vy can I not hope to call you fader-in-law?"
+
+Manasseh's face was contorted by a spasm of astonishment and
+indignation. He came to a standstill.
+
+"Dat must be a fine piece," said Yankelé quickly, indicating a
+flamboyant picture of a fearsome phantom hovering over a sombre moat.
+
+[Illustration: "'DAT MUST BE A FINE PIECE.'"]
+
+They had arrived at Leman Street, and had stopped before Goodman's
+Fields Theatre. Manasseh's brow cleared.
+
+"It is _The Castle Spectre_," he said graciously. "Would you like to
+see it?"
+
+"But it is half over--"
+
+"Oh, no," said da Costa, scanning the play bill. "There was a farce by
+O'Keefe to start with. The night is yet young. The drama will be just
+beginning."
+
+"But it is de Sabbath--ve must not pay."
+
+Manasseh's brow clouded again in wrathful righteous surprise. "Did you
+think I was going to pay?" he gasped.
+
+"N-n-no," stammered the Pole, abashed. "But you haven't got no
+orders?"
+
+"Orders? Me? Will you do me the pleasure of accepting a seat in my
+box?"
+
+"In your box?"
+
+"Yes, there is plenty of room. Come this way," said Manasseh. "I
+haven't been to the play myself for over a year. I am too busy always.
+It will be an agreeable change."
+
+Yankelé hung back, bewildered.
+
+"Through this door," said Manasseh encouragingly. "Come--you shall
+lead the way."
+
+"But dey vill not admit me!"
+
+"Will not admit you! When I give you a seat in my box! Are you mad?
+Now you shall just go in without me--I insist upon it. I will show you
+Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa is a man whose word is the
+Law of Moses; true as the Talmud. Walk straight through the portico,
+and, if the attendant endeavours to stop you, simply tell him Mr. da
+Costa has given you a seat in his box."
+
+Not daring to exhibit scepticism--nay, almost confident in the powers
+of his extraordinary protector, Yankelé put his foot on the threshold
+of the lobby.
+
+"But you be coming, too?" he said, turning back.
+
+"Oh, yes, I don't intend to miss the performance. Have no fear."
+
+Yankelé walked boldly ahead, and brushed by the door-keeper of the
+little theatre without appearing conscious of him; indeed, the
+official was almost impressed into letting the _Schnorrer_ pass
+unquestioned as one who had gone out between the acts. But the visitor
+was too dingy for anything but the stage-door--he had the air of those
+nondescript beings who hang mysteriously about the hinder recesses of
+playhouses. Recovering himself just in time, the functionary (a meek
+little Cockney) hailed the intruder with a backward-drawing "Hi!"
+
+"Vat you vant?" said Yankelé, turning his head.
+
+"Vhere's your ticket?"
+
+"Don't vant no ticket."
+
+"Don't you? I does," rejoined the little man, who was a humorist.
+
+"Mr. da Costa has given me a seat in his box."
+
+"Oh, indeed! You'd swear to that in the box?"
+
+"By my head. He gave it me."
+
+"A seat in his box?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mr. da Costa, you vos a-sayin', I think?"
+
+"The same."
+
+"Ah! this vay, then!"
+
+And the humorist pointed to the street.
+
+Yankelé did not budge.
+
+"This vay, my lud!" cried the little humorist peremptorily.
+
+"I tells you I'm going into Mr. da Costa's box!"
+
+"And I tells you you're a-goin' into the gutter." And the official
+seized him by the scruff of the neck and began pushing him forwards
+with his knee.
+
+"Now then! what's this?"
+
+[Illustration: "'NOW THEN! WHAT'S THIS?'"]
+
+A stern, angry voice broke like a thunderclap upon the humorist's
+ears. He released his hold of the _Schnorrer_ and looked up, to behold
+a strange, shabby, stalwart figure towering over him in censorious
+majesty.
+
+"Why are you hustling this poor man?" demanded Manasseh.
+
+"He wanted to sneak in," the little Cockney replied, half
+apologetically, half resentfully. "Expect 'e 'ails from Saffron 'Ill,
+and 'as 'is eye on the vipes. Told me some gammon--a cock-and-bull
+story about having a seat in a box."
+
+"In Mr. da Costa's box, I suppose?" said Manasseh, ominously calm,
+with a menacing glitter in his eye.
+
+"Ye-es," said the humorist, astonished and vaguely alarmed. Then the
+storm burst.
+
+"You impertinent scoundrel! You jackanapes! You low, beggarly
+rapscallion! And so you refused to show my guest into my box!"
+
+"Are you Mr. da Costa?" faltered the humorist.
+
+"Yes, _I_ am Mr. da Costa, but _you_ won't much longer be door-keeper,
+if this is the way you treat people who come to see your pieces.
+Because, forsooth, the man looks poor, you think you can bully him
+safely--forgive me, Yankelé, I am so sorry I did not manage to come
+here before you, and spare you this insulting treatment! And as for
+you, my fine fellow, let me tell you that you make a great mistake in
+judging from appearances. There are some good friends of mine who
+could buy up your theatre and you and your miserable little soul at a
+moment's notice, and to look at them you would think they were
+cadgers. One of these days--hark you!--you will kick out a person of
+quality, and be kicked out yourself."
+
+"I--I'm very sorry, sir."
+
+"Don't say that to me. It is my guest you owe an apology to. Yes--and,
+by Heaven! you shall pay it, though he is no plutocrat, but only what
+he appears. Surely, because I wish to give a treat to a poor man who
+has, perhaps, never been to the play in his life, I am not bound to
+send him to the gallery--I can give him a corner in my box if I
+choose. There is no rule against that, I presume?"
+
+"No, sir, I can't say as there is," said the humorist humbly. "But you
+will allow, sir, it's rayther unusual."
+
+"Unusual! Of course, it's unusual. Kindness and consideration for the
+poor are always unusual. The poor are trodden upon at every
+opportunity, treated like dogs, not men. If I had invited a drunken
+fop, you'd have met him hat in hand (no, no, you needn't take it off
+to me now; it's too late). But a sober, poor man--by gad! I shall
+report your incivility to the management, and you'll be lucky if I
+don't thrash you with this stick into the bargain."
+
+"But 'ow vos I to know, sir?"
+
+"Don't speak to me, I tell you. If you have anything to urge in
+extenuation of your disgraceful behaviour, address your remarks to my
+guest."
+
+"You'll overlook it this time, sir," said the little humorist, turning
+to Yankelé.
+
+"Next time, p'raps, you believe me ven I say I have a seat in Mr. da
+Costa's box," replied Yankelé, in gentle reproach.
+
+"Well, if _you're_ satisfied, Yankelé," said Manasseh, with a touch of
+scorn, "I have no more to say. Go along, my man, show us to our box."
+
+The official bowed and led them into the corridor. Suddenly he turned
+back.
+
+"What box is it, please?" he said timidly.
+
+"Blockhead!" cried Manasseh. "Which box should it be? The empty one,
+of course."
+
+"But, sir, there are two boxes empty," urged the poor humorist
+deprecatingly, "the stage-box and the one by the gallery."
+
+"Dolt! Do I look the sort of person who is content with a box on the
+ceiling? Go back to your post, sir--I'll find the box myself--Heaven
+send you wisdom--go back, some one might sneak in while you are away,
+and it would just serve you right."
+
+The little man slunk back half dazed, glad to escape from this
+overwhelming personality, and in a few seconds Manasseh stalked into
+the empty box, followed by Yankelé, whose mouth was a grin and whose
+eye a twinkle. As the Spaniard took his seat there was a slight
+outburst of clapping and stamping from a house impatient for the end
+of the _entr'acte_.
+
+Manasseh craned his head over the box to see the house, which in turn
+craned to see him, glad of any diversion, and some people, imagining
+the applause had reference to the new-comer, whose head appeared to
+be that of a foreigner of distinction, joined in it. The contagion
+spread, and in a minute Manasseh was the cynosure of all eyes and the
+unmistakable recipient of an "ovation." He bowed twice or thrice in
+unruffled dignity.
+
+[Illustration: "HE BOWED."]
+
+There were some who recognised him, but they joined in the reception
+with wondering amusement. Not a few, indeed, of the audience were
+Jews, for Goodman's Fields was the Ghetto Theatre, and the Sabbath was
+not a sufficient deterrent to a lax generation. The audiences--mainly
+German and Poles--came to the little unfashionable playhouse as one
+happy family. Distinctions of rank were trivial, and gallery held
+converse with circle, and pit collogued with box. Supper parties were
+held on the benches.
+
+In a box that gave on the pit a portly Jewess sat stiffly, arrayed in
+the very pink of fashion, in a spangled robe of India muslin, with a
+diamond necklace and crescent, her head crowned by terraces of curls
+and flowers.
+
+"Betsy!" called up a jovial feminine voice from the pit, when the
+applause had subsided.
+
+"Betsy" did not move, but her cheeks grew hot and red. She had got on
+in the world, and did not care to recognise her old crony.
+
+"Betsy!" iterated the well-meaning woman. "By your life and mine, you
+must taste a piece of my fried fish." And she held up a slice of cold
+plaice, beautifully browned.
+
+Betsy drew back, striving unsuccessfully to look unconscious. To her
+relief the curtain rose, and _The Castle Spectre_ walked. Yankelé, who
+had scarcely seen anything but private theatricals, representing the
+discomfiture of the wicked Haman and the triumph of Queen Esther (a
+_rôle_ he had once played himself, in his mother's old clothes), was
+delighted with the thrills and terrors of the ghostly melodrama. It
+was not till the conclusion of the second act that the emotion the
+beautiful but injured heroine cost him welled over again into
+matrimonial speech.
+
+"Ve vind up de night glorious," he said.
+
+"I am glad you like it. It is certainly an enjoyable performance,"
+Manasseh answered with stately satisfaction.
+
+"Your daughter, Deborah," Yankelé ventured timidly, "do she ever go to
+de play?"
+
+"No, I do not take my womankind about. Their duty lies at home. As it
+is written, I call my wife not 'wife' but 'home.'"
+
+"But dink how dey vould enjoy deirselves!"
+
+"We are not sent here to enjoy ourselves."
+
+"True--most true," said Yankelé, pulling a smug face. "Ve be sent here
+to obey de Law of Moses. But do not remind me I be a sinner in
+Israel."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I am twenty-five--yet I have no vife."
+
+"I daresay you had plenty in Poland."
+
+"By my soul, not. Only von, and her I gave _gett_ (divorce) for
+barrenness. You can write to de Rabbi of my town."
+
+"Why should I write? It's not my affair."
+
+"But I vant it to be your affair."
+
+Manasseh glared. "Do you begin that again?" he murmured.
+
+"It is not so much dat I desire your daughter for a vife as you for a
+fader-in-law."
+
+"It cannot be!" said Manasseh more gently.
+
+"Oh dat I had been born a Sephardi!" said Yankelé with a hopeless
+groan.
+
+"It is too late now," said da Costa soothingly.
+
+"Dey say it's never too late to mend," moaned the Pole. "Is dere no
+vay for me to be converted to Spanish Judaism? I could easily
+pronounce Hebrew in your superior vay."
+
+"Our Judaism differs in no essential respect from yours--it is a
+question of blood. You cannot change your blood. As it is said, 'And
+the blood is the life.'"
+
+"I know, I know dat I aspire too high. Oh, vy did you become my
+friend, vy did you make me believe you cared for me--so dat I tink of
+you day and night--and now, ven I ask you to be my fader-in-law, you
+say it cannot be. It is like a knife in de heart! Tink how proud and
+happy I should be to call you my fader-in-law. All my life vould be
+devoted to you--my von thought to be vordy of such a man."
+
+"You are not the first I have been compelled to refuse," said
+Manasseh, with emotion.
+
+"Vat helps me dat dere be other _Schlemihls_ (unlucky persons)?"
+quoted Yankelé, with a sob. "How can I live midout you for a
+fader-in-law?"
+
+"I am sorry for you--more sorry than I have ever been."
+
+"Den you do care for me! I vill not give up hope. I vill not take no
+for no answer. Vat is dis blood dat it should divide Jew from Jew, dat
+it should prevent me becoming de son-in-law of de only man I have ever
+loved? Say not so. Let me ask you again--in a month or a year--even
+twelve months vould I vait, ven you vould only promise not to pledge
+yourself to anoder man."
+
+"But if I became your father-in-law--mind, I only say if--not only
+would I not keep you, but you would have to keep my Deborah."
+
+"And supposing?"
+
+"But you are not able to keep a wife!"
+
+"Not able? Who told you dat?" cried Yankelé indignantly.
+
+"You yourself! Why, when I first befriended you, you told me you were
+blood-poor."
+
+"Dat I told you as a _Schnorrer_. But now I speak to you as a suitor."
+
+"True," admitted Manasseh, instantly appreciating the distinction.
+
+"And as a suitor I tell you I can _schnorr_ enough to keep two vives."
+
+"But do you tell this to da Costa the father or da Costa the
+marriage-broker?"
+
+"Hush!" from all parts of the house as the curtain went up and the
+house settled down. But Yankelé was no longer in _rapport_ with the
+play; the spectre had ceased to thrill and the heroine to touch. His
+mind was busy with feverish calculations of income, scraping together
+every penny he could raise by hook or crook. He even drew out a
+crumpled piece of paper and a pencil, but thrust them back into his
+pocket when he saw Manasseh's eye.
+
+"I forgot," he murmured apologetically. "Being at de play made me
+forget it was de Sabbath." And he pursued his calculations mentally;
+this being naturally less work.
+
+When the play was over the two beggars walked out into the cool night
+air.
+
+"I find," Yankelé began eagerly in the vestibule, "I make at least von
+hundred and fifty pounds"--he paused to acknowledge the farewell
+salutation of the little door-keeper at his elbow--"a hundred and
+fifty a year."
+
+"Indeed!" said Manasseh, in respectful astonishment.
+
+"Yes! I have reckoned it all up. Ten are de sources of charity--"
+
+"As it is written," interrupted Manasseh with unction, "'With ten
+sayings was the world created; there were ten generations from Noah to
+Abraham; with ten trials our father Abraham was tried; ten miracles
+were wrought for our fathers in Egypt and ten at the Red Sea; and ten
+things were created on the eve of the Sabbath in the twilight!' And
+now it shall be added, 'Ten good deeds the poor man affords the rich
+man.' Proceed, Yankelé."
+
+"First comes my allowance from de Synagogue--eight pounds. Vonce a
+veek I call and receive half-a-crown."
+
+"Is that all? Our Synagogue allows three-and-six."
+
+"Ah!" sighed the Pole wistfully. "Did I not say you be a superior
+race?"
+
+"But that only makes six pound ten!"
+
+"I know--de oder tirty shillings I allow for Passover cakes and
+groceries. Den for Synagogue-knocking I get ten guin--"
+
+"Stop! stop!" cried Manasseh, with a sudden scruple. "Ought I to
+listen to financial details on the Sabbath?"
+
+"Certainly, ven dey be connected vid my marriage--vich is a
+Commandment. It is de Law ve really discuss."
+
+"You are right. Go on, then. But remember, even if you can prove you
+can _schnorr_ enough to keep a wife, I do not bind myself to consent."
+
+"You be already a fader to me--vy vill you not be a fader-in-law?
+Anyhow, you vill find me a fader-in-law," he added hastily, seeing the
+blackness gathering again on da Costa's brow.
+
+"Nay, nay, we must not talk of business on the Sabbath," said Manasseh
+evasively. "Proceed with your statement of income."
+
+"Ten guineas for Synagogue-knocking. I have tventy clients who--"
+
+"Stop a minute! I cannot pass that item."
+
+"Vy not? It is true."
+
+"Maybe! But Synagogue-knocking is distinctly _work_!"
+
+"Vork?"
+
+"Well, if going round early in the morning to knock at the doors of
+twenty pious persons, and rouse them for morning service, isn't work,
+then the Christian bell-ringer is a beggar. No, no! Profits from this
+source I cannot regard as legitimate."
+
+"But most _Schnorrers_ be Synagogue-knockers!"
+
+"Most _Schnorrers_ are Congregation-men or Psalms-men," retorted the
+Spaniard witheringly. "But I call it debasing. What! To assist at the
+services for a fee! To worship one's Maker for hire! Under such
+conditions to pray is to work." His breast swelled with majesty and
+scorn.
+
+"I cannot call it vork," protested the _Schnorrer_. "Vy at dat rate
+you vould make out dat de minister vorks? or de preacher? Vy, I reckon
+fourteen pounds a year to my services as Congregation-man."
+
+"Fourteen pounds! As much as that?"
+
+"Yes, you see dere's my private customers as vell as de Synagogue. Ven
+dere is mourning in a house dey cannot alvays get together ten friends
+for de services, so I make von. How can you call that vork? It is
+friendship. And the more dey pay me de more friendship I feel,"
+asserted Yankelé with a twinkle. "Den de Synagogue allows me a little
+extra for announcing de dead."
+
+In those primitive times, when a Jewish newspaper was undreamt of, the
+day's obituary was published by a peripatetic _Schnorrer_, who went
+about the Ghetto rattling a pyx--a copper money-box with a handle and
+a lid closed by a padlock. On hearing this death-rattle, anyone who
+felt curious would ask the _Schnorrer_:
+
+"Who's dead to-day?"
+
+"So-and-so ben So-and-so--funeral on such a day--mourning service at
+such an hour," the _Schnorrer_ would reply, and the enquirer would
+piously put something into the "byx," as it was called. The collection
+was handed over to the Holy Society--in other words, the Burial
+Society.
+
+"P'raps you call that vork?" concluded Yankelé, in timid challenge.
+
+"Of course I do. What do you call it?"
+
+"Valking exercise. It keeps me healty. Vonce von of my customers (from
+whom I _schnorred_ half-a-crown a veek) said he was tired of my coming
+and getting it every Friday. He vanted to compound mid me for six
+pound a year, but I vouldn't."
+
+"But it was a very fair offer. He only deducted ten shillings for the
+interest on his money."
+
+"Dat I didn't mind. But I vanted a pound more for his depriving me of
+my valking exercise, and dat he vouldn't pay, so he still goes on
+giving me de half-crown a veek. Some of dese charitable persons are
+terribly mean. But vat I vant to say is dat I carry de byx mostly in
+the streets vere my customers lay, and it gives me more standing as a
+_Schnorrer_."
+
+"No, no, that is a delusion. What! Are you weak-minded enough to
+believe that? All the philanthropists say so, of course, but surely
+you know that _schnorring_ and work should never be mixed. A man
+cannot do two things properly. He must choose his profession, and
+stick to it. A friend of mine once succumbed to the advice of the
+philanthropists instead of asking mine. He had one of the best
+provincial rounds in the kingdom, but in every town he weakly listened
+to the lectures of the president of the congregation inculcating work,
+and at last he actually invested the savings of years in jewellery,
+and went round trying to peddle it. The presidents all bought
+something to encourage him (though they beat down the price so that
+there was no profit in it), and they all expressed their pleasure at
+his working for his living, and showing a manly independence. 'But I
+_schnorr_ also,' he reminded them, holding out his hand when they had
+finished. It was in vain. No one gave him a farthing. He had blundered
+beyond redemption. At one blow he had destroyed one of the most
+profitable connections a _Schnorrer_ ever had, and without even
+getting anything for the goodwill. So if you will be guided by me,
+Yankelé, you will do nothing to assist the philanthropists to keep
+you. It destroys their satisfaction. A _Schnorrer_ cannot be too
+careful. And once you begin to work, where are you to draw the line?"
+
+"But you be a marriage-broker yourself," said Yankelé imprudently.
+
+"That!" thundered Manasseh angrily, "That is not work! That is
+pleasure!"
+
+"Vy look! Dere is Hennery Simons," cried Yankelé, hoping to divert his
+attention. But he only made matters worse.
+
+Henry Simons was a character variously known as the Tumbling Jew,
+Harry the Dancer, and the Juggling Jew. He was afterwards to become
+famous as the hero of a slander case which deluged England with
+pamphlets for and against, but for the present he had merely outraged
+the feelings of his fellow _Schnorrers_ by budding out in a direction
+so rare as to suggest preliminary baptism. He stood now playing antic
+and sleight-of-hand tricks--surrounded by a crowd--a curious figure
+crowned by a velvet skull-cap from which wisps of hair protruded, with
+a scarlet handkerchief thrust through his girdle. His face was an
+olive oval, bordered by ragged tufts of beard and stamped with
+melancholy.
+
+"You see the results of working," cried Manasseh. "It brings
+temptation to work on Sabbath. That Epicurean there is profaning the
+Holy Day. Come away! A _Schnorrer_ is far more certain of
+The-World-To-Come. No, decidedly, I will not give my daughter to a
+worker, or to a _Schnorrer_ who makes illegitimate profits."
+
+"But I _make_ de profits all de same," persisted Yankelé.
+
+"You make them to-day--but to-morrow? There is no certainty about
+them. Work of whatever kind is by its very nature unreliable. At any
+moment trade may be slack. People may become less pious, and you lose
+your Synagogue-knocking. Or more pious--and they won't want
+congregation-men."
+
+"But new Synagogues spring up," urged Yankelé.
+
+"New Synagogues are full of enthusiasm," retorted Manasseh. "The
+members are their own congregation-men."
+
+Yankelé had his roguish twinkle. "At first," he admitted, "but de
+_Schnorrer_ vaits his time."
+
+Manasseh shook his head. "_Schnorring_ is the only occupation that is
+regular all the year round," he said. "Everything else may fail--the
+greatest commercial houses may totter to the ground; as it is written,
+'He humbleth the proud.' But the _Schnorrer_ is always secure. Whoever
+falls, there are always enough left to look after _him_. If you were a
+father, Yankelé, you would understand my feelings. How can a man allow
+his daughter's future happiness to repose on a basis so uncertain as
+work? No, no. What do you make by your district visiting? Everything
+turns on that."
+
+"Tventy-five shilling a veek!"
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Law of Moses! In sixpences, shillings, and half-crowns. Vy in
+Houndsditch alone, I have two streets all except a few houses."
+
+"But are they safe? Population shifts. Good streets go down."
+
+"Dat tventy-five shillings is as safe as Mocatta's business. I have it
+all written down at home--you can inspect de books if you choose."
+
+"No, no," said Manasseh, with a grand wave of his stick. "If I did not
+believe you, I should not entertain your proposal for a moment. It
+rejoices me exceedingly to find you have devoted so much attention to
+this branch. I always held strongly that the rich should be visited in
+their own homes, and I grieve to see this personal touch, this contact
+with the very people to whom you give the good deeds, being replaced
+by lifeless circulars. One owes it to one's position in life to afford
+the wealthy classes the opportunity of charity warm from the heart;
+they should not be neglected and driven in their turn to write cheques
+in cold blood, losing all that human sympathy which comes from
+personal intercourse--as it is written, 'Charity delivers from death.'
+But do you think charity that is given publicly through a secretary
+and advertised in annual reports has so great a redeeming power as
+that slipped privately into the hands of the poor man, who makes a
+point of keeping secret from every donor what he has received from the
+others?"
+
+"I am glad you don't call collecting de money vork," said Yankelé,
+with a touch of sarcasm which was lost on da Costa.
+
+"No, so long as the donor can't show any 'value received' in return.
+And there's more friendship in _such_ a call, Yankelé, than in going
+to a house of mourning to pray for a fee."
+
+"Oh," said Yankelé, wincing. "Den p'raps you strike out all my
+Year-Time item!"
+
+"Year-Time! What's that?"
+
+"Don't you know?" said the Pole, astonished. "Ven a man has Year-Time,
+he feels charitable for de day."
+
+"Do you mean when he commemorates the anniversary of the death of one
+of his family? We Sephardim call that 'making years'! But are there
+enough Year-Times, as you call them, in your Synagogue?"
+
+"Dere might be more--I only make about fifteen pounds. Our colony is,
+as you say, too new. De Globe Road Cemetery is as empty as a Synagogue
+on veek-days. De faders have left _deir_ faders on de Continent, and
+kept many Year-Times out of de country. But in a few years many faders
+and moders must die off here, and every parent leaves two or tree sons
+to have Year-Times, and every child two or tree broders and a fader.
+Den every day more German Jews come here--vich means more and more to
+die. I tink indeed it vould be fair to double this item."
+
+"No, no; stick to facts. It is an iniquity to speculate in the
+misfortunes of our fellow-creatures."
+
+"Somebody must die dat I may live," retorted Yankelé roguishly; "de
+vorld is so created. Did you not quote, 'Charity delivers from death'?
+If people lived for ever, _Schnorrers_ could not live at all."
+
+"Hush! The world could not exist without _Schnorrers_. As it is
+written, 'And Repentance and _Prayer_ and CHARITY avert the evil
+decree.' Charity is put last--it is the climax--the greatest thing on
+earth. And the _Schnorrer_ is the greatest man on earth; for it stands
+in the Talmud, 'He who causes is greater than he who does.' Therefore,
+the _Schnorrer_ who causes charity is even greater than he who gives
+it."
+
+"Talk of de devil," said Yankelé, who had much difficulty in keeping
+his countenance when Manasseh became magnificent and dithyrambic. "Vy,
+dere is Greenbaum, whose fader vas buried yesterday. Let us cross over
+by accident and vish him long life."
+
+"Greenbaum dead! Was that the Greenbaum on 'Change, who was such a
+rascal with the wenches?"
+
+"De same," said Yankelé. Then approaching the son, he cried, "Good
+Sabbath, Mr. Greenbaum; I vish you long life. Vat a blow for de
+community!"
+
+"It comforts me to hear you say so," said the son, with a sob in his
+voice.
+
+"Ah, yes!" said Yankelé chokingly. "Your fader vas a great and good
+man--just my size."
+
+[Illustration: "'YOUR FADER VAS A GREAT AND GOOD MAN--JUST MY SIZE.'"]
+
+"I've already given them away to Baruch the glazier," replied the
+mourner.
+
+"But he has his glaziering," remonstrated Yankelé. "I have noting but
+de clothes I stand in, and dey don't fit me half so vell as your
+fader's vould have done."
+
+"Baruch has been very unfortunate," replied Greenbaum defensively.
+"He had a misfortune in the winter, and he has never got straight yet.
+A child of his died, and, unhappily, just when the snowballing was at
+its height, so that he lost seven days by the mourning." And he moved
+away.
+
+"Did I not say work was uncertain?" cried Manasseh.
+
+"Not all," maintained the _Schnorrer_. "What of de six guineas I make
+by carrying round de Palm-branch on Tabernacles to be shaken by de
+voomans who cannot attend Synagogue, and by blowing de trumpet for de
+same voomans on New Year, so dat dey may break deir fasts?"
+
+"The amount is too small to deserve discussion. Pass on."
+
+"Dere is a smaller amount--just half dat--I get from de presents to de
+poor at de Feast of Lots, and from de Bridegrooms of de Beginning and
+de Bridegrooms of de Law at de Rejoicing of de Law, and dere is about
+four pounds ten a year from de sale of clothes given to me. Den I have
+a lot o' meals given me--dis, I have reckoned, is as good as seven
+pounds. And, lastly, I cannot count de odds and ends under ten
+guineas. You know dere are alvays legacies, gifts, distributions--all
+unexpected. You never know who'll break out next."
+
+"Yes, I think it's not too high a percentage of your income to expect
+from unexpected sources," admitted Manasseh. "I have myself lingered
+about 'Change Alley or Sampson's Coffee House just when the jobbers
+have pulled off a special coup, and they have paid me quite a high
+percentage on their profits."
+
+"And I," boasted Yankelé, stung to noble emulation, "have made two
+sov'rans in von minute out of Gideon de bullion-broker. He likes to
+give _Schnorrers_ sov'rans, as if in mistake for shillings, to see vat
+dey'll do. De fools hurry off, or move slowly avay, as if not
+noticing, or put it quickly in de pocket. But dose who have visdom
+tell him he's made a mistake, and he gives dem anoder sov'ran. Honesty
+is de best policy with Gideon. Den dere is Rabbi de Falk, de Baal
+Shem--de great Cabbalist. Ven--"
+
+"But," interrupted Manasseh impatiently, "you haven't made out your
+hundred and fifty a year."
+
+Yankelé's face fell. "Not if you cut out so many items."
+
+"No, but even all inclusive it only comes to a hundred and forty-three
+pounds nineteen shillings."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Yankelé, staggered. "How can you know so exact?"
+
+"Do you think I cannot do simple addition?" responded Manasseh
+sternly. "Are not these your ten items?"
+
+                                                  £ s. d.
+     1. Synagogue Pension, with Passover extras   8  0  0
+     2. Synagogue-knocking                       10 10  0
+     3. District Visiting                        65  0  0
+     4. As Congregation-man and Pyx-bearer       14  0  0
+     5. Year-Times                               15  0  0
+     6. Palm-branch and Trumpet Fees              6  6  0
+     7. Purim-presents, &c.                       3  3  0
+     8. Sale of Clothes                           4 10  0
+     9. Equivalent of Free Meals                  7  0  0
+    10. Miscellanea, the unexpected              10 10  0
+                                        Total  £143 19  0
+
+"A child could sum it up," concluded Manasseh severely. Yankelé was
+subdued to genuine respect and consternation by da Costa's marvellous
+memory and arithmetical genius. But he rallied immediately. "Of
+course, I also reckoned on a dowry mid my bride, if only a hundred
+pounds."
+
+"Well, invested in Consols, that would not bring you four pounds
+more," replied Manasseh instantly.
+
+"The rest vill be made up in extra free meals," Yankelé answered no
+less quickly. "For ven I take your daughter off your hands you vill be
+able to afford to invite me more often to your table dan you do now."
+
+"Not at all," retorted Manasseh, "for now that I know how well off you
+are I shall no longer feel I am doing a charity."
+
+"Oh, yes, you vill," said Yankelé insinuatingly. "You are too much a
+man of honour to know as a private philantropist vat I have told de
+marriage-broker, de fader-in-law and de fellow _Schnorrer_. Besides, I
+vould have de free meals from you as de son-in-law, not de
+_Schnorrer_."
+
+"In that relation I should also have free meals from you," rejoined
+Manasseh.
+
+"I never dared to tink you vould do me de honour. But even so I can
+never give you such good meals as you give me. So dere is still a
+balance in my favour."
+
+"That is true," said da Costa thoughtfully. "But you have still about
+a guinea to make up."
+
+Yankelé was driven into a corner at last. But he flashed back,
+without perceptible pause, "You do not allow for vat I save by my
+piety. I fast twenty times a year, and surely dat is at least anoder
+guinea per annum."
+
+"But you will have children," retorted da Costa.
+
+Yankelé shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Dat is de affair of de Holy One, blessed be He. Ven He sends dem He
+vill provide for dem. You must not forget, too, dat mid _your_
+daughter de dowry vould be noting so small as a hundred pounds."
+
+"My daughter will have a dowry befitting her station, certainly," said
+Manasseh, with his grandest manner; "but then I had looked forward to
+her marrying a king of _Schnorrers_."
+
+"Vell, but ven I marry her I shall be."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I shall have _schnorred_ your daughter--the most precious thing in
+the world! And _schnorred_ her from a king of _Schnorrers_, too!! And
+I shall have _schnorred_ your services as marriage-broker into de
+bargain!!!"
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE ROYAL WEDDING WAS ARRANGED.
+
+Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa was so impressed by his
+would-be son-in-law's last argument that he perpended it in silence
+for a full minute. When he replied, his tone showed even more respect
+than had been infused into it by the statement of the aspirant's
+income. Manasseh was not of those to whom money is a fetish; he
+regarded it merely as something to be had for the asking. It was
+intellect for which he reserved his admiration. That was strictly not
+transferable.
+
+"It is true," he said, "that if I yielded to your importunities and
+gave you my daughter, you would thereby have approved yourself a king
+of _Schnorrers_, of a rank suitable to my daughter's, but an analysis
+of your argument will show that you are begging the question."
+
+"Vat more proof do you vant of my begging powers?" demanded Yankelé,
+spreading out his palms and shrugging his shoulders.
+
+[Illustration: "'VAT MORE PROOF DO YOU VANT?'"]
+
+"Much greater proof," replied Manasseh. "I ought to have some instance
+of your powers. The only time I have seen you try to _schnorr_ you
+failed."
+
+"Me! ven?" exclaimed Yankelé indignantly.
+
+"Why, this very night. When you asked young Weinstein for his dead
+father's clothes!"
+
+"But he had already given them away!" protested the Pole.
+
+"What of that? If anyone had given away _my_ clothes, I should have
+demanded compensation. You must really be above rebuffs of that kind,
+Yankelé, if you are to be my son-in-law. No, no, I remember the dictum
+of the Sages: 'To give your daughter to an uncultured man is like
+throwing her bound to a lion.'"
+
+"But you have also seen me _schnorr_ mid success," remonstrated the
+suitor.
+
+"Never!" protested Manasseh vehemently.
+
+"Often!"
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"From you!" said Yankelé boldly.
+
+"From _me_!" sneered Manasseh, accentuating the pronoun with infinite
+contempt. "What does that prove? I am a generous man. The test is to
+_schnorr_ from a miser."
+
+"I _vill schnorr_ from a miser!" announced Yankelé desperately.
+
+"You will!"
+
+"Yes. Choose your miser."
+
+"No, I leave it to you," said da Costa politely.
+
+"Vell, Sam Lazarus, de butcher shop!"
+
+"No, not Sam Lazarus, he once gave a _Schnorrer_ I know elevenpence."
+
+"Elevenpence?" incredulously murmured Yankelé.
+
+"Yes, it was the only way he could pass a shilling. It wasn't bad,
+only cracked, but he could get no one to take it except a _Schnorrer_.
+He made the man give him a penny change though. 'Tis true the man
+afterwards laid out the shilling at Lazarus's shop. Still a really
+great miser would have added that cracked shilling to his hoard rather
+than the perfect penny."
+
+"No," argued Yankelé, "dere vould be no difference, since he does not
+spend."
+
+"True," said da Costa reflectively, "but by that same token a miser is
+not the most difficult person to tackle."
+
+"How do you make dat out?"
+
+"Is it not obvious? Already we see Lazarus giving away elevenpence. A
+miser who spends nothing on himself may, in exceptional cases, be
+induced to give away something. It is the man who indulges himself in
+every luxury and gives away nothing who is the hardest to _schnorr_
+from. He has a _use_ for his money--himself! If you diminish his store
+you hurt him in the tenderest part--you rob him of creature comforts.
+To _schnorr_ from such a one I should regard as a higher and nobler
+thing than to _schnorr_ from a mere miser."
+
+"Vell, name your man."
+
+"No--I couldn't think of taking it out of your hands," said Manasseh
+again with his stately bow. "Whomever you select I will abide by. If I
+could not rely on your honour, would I dream of you as a son-in-law?"
+
+"Den I vill go to Mendel Jacobs, of Mary Axe."
+
+"Mendel Jacobs--oh, no! Why, he's married! A married man cannot be
+entirely devoted to himself."
+
+"Vy not? Is not a vife a creature comfort? P'raps also she comes
+cheaper dan a housekeeper."
+
+"We will not argue it. I will not have Mendel Jacobs."
+
+"Simon Kelutski, de vine-merchant."
+
+"He! He is quite generous with his snuff-box. I have myself been
+offered a pinch. Of course I did not accept it."
+
+Yankelé selected several other names, but Manasseh barred them all,
+and at last had an inspiration of his own.
+
+"Isn't there a Rabbi in your community whose stinginess is proverbial?
+Let me see, what's his name?"
+
+"A Rabbi!" murmured Yankelé disingenuously, while his heart began to
+palpitate with alarm.
+
+"Yes, isn't there--Rabbi Bloater!"
+
+Yankelé shook his head. Ruin stared him in the face--his fondest hopes
+were crumbling.
+
+"I know it's some fishy name--Rabbi Haddock--no it isn't. It's Rabbi
+Remorse something."
+
+Yankelé saw it was all over with him.
+
+"P'raps you mean Rabbi Remorse Red-herring," he said feebly, for his
+voice failed him.
+
+"Ah, yes! Rabbi Remorse Red-herring," said Manasseh. "From all I
+hear--for I have never seen the man--a king of guzzlers and topers,
+and the meanest of mankind. Now if you could dine with _him_ you might
+indeed be called a king of _Schnorrers_."
+
+Yankelé was pale and trembling. "But _he_ is married!" he urged, with
+a happy thought.
+
+[Illustration: "THE TREMBLING JEW."]
+
+"Dine with him to-morrow," said Manasseh inexorably. "He fares extra
+royally on the Sabbath. Obtain admission to his table, and you shall
+be admitted into my family."
+
+"But you do not know the man--it is impossible!" cried Yankelé.
+
+"That is the excuse of the bad _Schnorrer_. You have heard my
+ultimatum. No dinner, no wife. No wife--no dowry!"
+
+"Vat vould dis dowry be?" asked Yankelé, by way of diversion.
+
+"Oh, unique--quite unique. First of all there would be all the money
+she gets from the Synagogue. Our Synagogue gives considerable dowries
+to portionless girls. There are large bequests for the purpose."
+
+Yankelé's eyes glittered.
+
+"Ah, vat gentlemen you Spaniards be!"
+
+"Then I daresay I should hand over to my son-in-law all my Jerusalem
+land."
+
+"Have you property in de Holy Land?" said Yankelé.
+
+"First class, with an unquestionable title. And, of course, I would
+give you some province or other in this country."
+
+"What!" gasped Yankelé.
+
+"Could I do less?" said Manasseh blandly. "My own flesh and blood,
+remember! Ah, here is my door. It is too late to ask you in. Good
+Sabbath! Don't forget your appointment to dine with Rabbi Remorse
+Red-herring to-morrow."
+
+"Good Sabbath!" faltered Yankelé, and crawled home heavy-hearted to
+Dinah's Buildings, Tripe Yard, Whitechapel, where the memory of him
+lingers even unto this day.
+
+Rabbi Remorse Red-herring was an unofficial preacher who officiated at
+mourning services in private houses, having a gift of well-turned
+eulogy. He was a big, burly man with overlapping stomach and a red
+beard, and his spiritual consolations drew tears. His clients knew him
+to be vastly self-indulgent in private life, and abstemious in the
+matter of benevolence; but they did not confound the _rôles_. As a
+mourning preacher he gave every satisfaction: he was regular and
+punctual, and did not keep the congregation waiting, and he had had
+considerable experience in showing that there was yet balm in Gilead.
+
+He had about five ways of showing it--the variants depending upon the
+circumstances. If, as not infrequently happened, the person deceased
+was a stranger to him, he would enquire in the passage: "Was it man
+or woman? Boy or girl? Married or single? Any children? Young 'uns or
+old 'uns?"
+
+When these questions had been answered, he was ready. He knew exactly
+which of his five consolatory addresses to deliver--they were all
+sufficiently vague and general to cover considerable variety of
+circumstance, and even when he misheard the replies in the passage,
+and dilated on the grief of a departed widower's relict, the results
+were not fatal throughout. The few impossible passages might be
+explained by the mishearing of the audience. Sometimes--very
+rarely--he would venture on a supplementary sentence or two fitting
+the specific occasion, but very cautiously, for a man with a
+reputation for extempore addresses cannot be too wary of speaking on
+the spur of the moment.
+
+Off obituary lines he was a failure; at any rate, his one attempt to
+preach from an English Synagogue pulpit resulted in a nickname. His
+theme was Remorse, which he explained with much care to the
+congregation.
+
+"For instance," said the preacher, "the other day I was walking over
+London Bridge, when I saw a fishwife standing with a basket of
+red-herrings. I says, 'How much?' She says, 'Two for three-halfpence.'
+I says, 'Oh, that's frightfully dear! I can easily get three for
+twopence.' But she wouldn't part with them at that price, so I went
+on, thinking I'd meet another woman with a similar lot over the water.
+They were lovely fat herrings, and my chaps watered in anticipation of
+the treat of eating them. But when I got to the other end of the
+bridge there was no other fishwife to be seen. So I resolved to turn
+back to the first fishwife, for, after all, I reflected, the herrings
+were really very cheap, and I had only complained in the way of
+business. But when I got back the woman was just sold out. I could
+have torn my hair with vexation. Now, that's what I call Remorse."
+
+[Illustration: "'I COULD HAVE TORN MY HAIR.'"]
+
+After that the Rabbi was what the congregation called Remorse; also
+Red-herring.
+
+The Rabbi's fondness for concrete exemplification of abstract ideas
+was not, however, to be stifled, and there was one illustration of
+Charity which found a place in all the five sermons of consolation.
+
+"If you have a pair of old breeches, send them to the Rabbi."
+
+Rabbi Remorse Red-herring was, however, as is the way of preachers,
+himself aught but a concrete exemplification of the virtues he
+inculcated. He lived generously--through other people's
+generosity--but no one could boast of having received a farthing from
+him over and above what was due to them; while _Schnorrers_ (who
+deemed considerable sums due to them) regarded him in the light of a
+defalcating bankrupt. He, for his part, had a countervailing grudge
+against the world, fancying the work he did for it but feebly
+remunerated. "I get so little," ran his bitter plaint, "that I
+couldn't live, _if it were not for the fasts_." And, indeed, the fasts
+of the religion were worth much more to him than to Yankelé; his meals
+were so profuse that his savings from this source were quite a little
+revenue. As Yankelé had pointed out, he was married. And his wife had
+given him a child, but it died at the age of seven, bequeathing to him
+the only poignant sorrow of his life. He was too jealous to call in a
+rival consolation preacher during those dark days, and none of his own
+five sermons seemed to fit the case. It was some months before he took
+his meals regularly.
+
+At no time had anyone else taken meals in his house, except by law
+entitled. Though she had only two to cook for, his wife habitually
+provided for three, counting her husband no mere unit. Herself she
+reckoned as a half.
+
+It was with intelligible perturbation, therefore, that Yankelé,
+dressed in some other man's best, approached the house of Rabbi
+Remorse Red-herring about a quarter of an hour before the Sabbath
+mid-day meal, intent on sharing it with him.
+
+"No dinner, no marriage!" was da Costa's stern ukase.
+
+What wonder if the inaccessible meal took upon itself the grandiosity
+of a wedding feast! Deborah da Costa's lovely face tantalised him like
+a mirage.
+
+The Sabbath day was bleak, but chiller was his heart. The Rabbi had
+apartments in Steward Street, Spitalfields, an elegant suite on the
+ground-floor, for he stinted himself in nothing but charity. At the
+entrance was a porch--a pointed Gothic arch of wood supported by two
+pillars. As Yankelé mounted the three wooden steps, breathing as
+painfully as if they were three hundred, and wondering if he would
+ever get merely as far as the other side of the door, he was assailed
+by the temptation to go and dine peacefully at home, and represent to
+da Costa that he had feasted with the Rabbi. Manasseh would never
+know, Manasseh had taken no steps to ascertain if he satisfied the
+test or not. Such carelessness, he told himself in righteous
+indignation, deserved fitting punishment. But, on the other hand, he
+recalled Manasseh's trust in him; Manasseh believed him a man of
+honour, and the patron's elevation of soul awoke an answering chivalry
+in the parasite.
+
+He decided to make the attempt at least, for there would be plenty of
+time to say he had succeeded, after he had failed.
+
+Vibrating with tremors of nobility as well as of apprehension, Yankelé
+lifted the knocker. He had no programme, trusting to chance and
+mother-wit.
+
+Mrs. Remorse Red-herring half opened the door.
+
+"I vish to see de Rabbi," he said, putting one foot within.
+
+[Illustration: "'I VISH TO SEE DE RABBI.'"]
+
+"He is engaged," said the wife--a tiny thin creature who had been
+plump and pretty. "He is very busy talking with a gentleman."
+
+"Oh, but I can vait."
+
+"But the Rabbi will be having his dinner soon."
+
+"I can vait till after dinner," said Yankelé obligingly.
+
+"Oh, but the Rabbi sits long at table."
+
+"I don't mind," said Yankelé with undiminished placidity, "de longer
+de better."
+
+The poor woman looked perplexed. "I'll tell my husband," she said at
+last.
+
+Yankelé had an anxious moment in the passage.
+
+"The Rabbi wishes to know what you want," she said when she returned.
+
+"I vant to get married," said Yankelé with an inspiration of veracity.
+
+"But my husband doesn't marry people."
+
+"Vy not?"
+
+"He only brings consolation into households," she explained
+ingenuously.
+
+"Vell, I won't get married midout him," Yankelé murmured lugubriously.
+
+The little woman went back in bewilderment to her bosom's lord.
+Forthwith out came Rabbi Remorse Red-herring, curiosity and cupidity
+in his eyes. He wore the skull-cap of sanctity, but looked the
+gourmand in spite of it.
+
+"Good Sabbath, sir! What is this about your getting married?"
+
+"It's a long story," said Yankelé, "and as your good vife told me your
+dinner is just ready, I mustn't keep you now."
+
+"No, there are still a few minutes before dinner. What is it?"
+
+Yankelé shook his head. "I couldn't tink of keeping you in dis
+draughty passage."
+
+"I don't mind. I don't feel any draught."
+
+"Dat's just vere de danger lays. You don't notice, and one day you
+find yourself laid up mid rheumatism, and you vill have Remorse," said
+Yankelé with a twinkle. "Your life is precious--if _you_ die, who vill
+console de community?"
+
+It was an ambiguous remark, but the Rabbi understood it in its most
+flattering sense, and his little eyes beamed. "I would ask you
+inside," he said, "but I have a visitor."
+
+"No matter," said Yankelé, "vat I have to say to you, Rabbi, is not
+private. A stranger may hear it."
+
+Still undecided, the Rabbi muttered, "You want me to marry you?"
+
+"I have come to get married," replied Yankelé.
+
+"But I have never been called upon to marry people."
+
+"It's never too late to mend, dey say."
+
+"Strange--strange," murmured the Rabbi reflectively.
+
+"Vat is strange?"
+
+"That you should come to me just to-day. But why did you not go to
+Rabbi Sandman?"
+
+"Rabbi Sandman!" replied Yankelé with contempt. "Vere vould be de good
+of going to him?"
+
+"But why not?"
+
+"Every _Schnorrer_ goes to him," said Yankelé frankly.
+
+"Hum!" mused the Rabbi. "Perhaps there _is_ an opening for a more
+select marrier. Come in, then, I can give you five minutes if you
+really don't mind talking before a stranger."
+
+He threw open the door, and led the way into the sitting-room.
+
+Yankelé followed, exultant; the outworks were already carried, and his
+heart beat high with hope. But at his first glance within, he reeled
+and almost fell.
+
+Standing with his back to the fire and dominating the room was
+Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa!
+
+"Ah, Yankelé, good Sabbath!" said da Costa affably.
+
+"G-g-ood Sabbath!" stammered Yankelé.
+
+"Why, you know each other!" cried the Rabbi.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Manasseh, "an acquaintance of yours, too, apparently."
+
+"No, he is just come to see me about something," replied the Rabbi.
+
+"I thought you did not know the Rabbi, Mr. da Costa?" Yankelé could
+not help saying.
+
+"I didn't. I only had the pleasure of making his acquaintance half an
+hour ago. I met him in the street as he was coming home from morning
+service, and he was kind enough to invite me to dinner."
+
+Yankelé gasped; despite his secret amusement at Manasseh's airs, there
+were moments when the easy magnificence of the man overwhelmed him,
+extorted his reluctant admiration. How in Heaven's name had the
+Spaniard conquered at a blow!
+
+Looking down at the table, he now observed that it was already laid
+for dinner--and for three! He should have been that third. Was it fair
+of Manasseh to handicap him thus? Naturally, there would be infinitely
+less chance of a fourth being invited than a third--to say nothing of
+the dearth of provisions. "But, surely, you don't intend to stay to
+dinner!" he complained in dismay.
+
+"I have given my word," said Manasseh, "and I shouldn't care to
+disappoint the Rabbi."
+
+"Oh, it's no disappointment, no disappointment," remarked Rabbi
+Remorse Red-herring cordially, "I could just as well come round and
+see you after dinner."
+
+"After dinner I never see people," said Manasseh majestically; "I
+sleep."
+
+The Rabbi dared not make further protest: he turned to Yankelé and
+asked, "Well, now, what's this about your marriage?"
+
+"I can't tell you before Mr. da Costa," replied Yankelé, to gain time.
+
+"Why not? You said anybody might hear."
+
+"Noting of the sort. I said a stranger might hear. But Mr. da Costa
+isn't a stranger. He knows too much about de matter."
+
+"What shall we do, then?" murmured the Rabbi.
+
+"I can vait till after dinner," said Yankelé, with good-natured
+carelessness. "_I_ don't sleep--"
+
+Before the Rabbi could reply, the wife brought in a baked dish, and
+set it on the table. Her husband glowered at her, but she, regular as
+clockwork, and as unthinking, produced the black bottle of _schnapps_.
+It was her husband's business to get rid of Yankelé; her business was
+to bring on the dinner. If she had delayed, he would have raged
+equally. She was not only wife, but maid-of-all-work.
+
+Seeing the advanced state of the preparations, Manasseh da Costa took
+his seat at the table; obeying her husband's significant glance, Mrs.
+Red-herring took up her position at the foot. The Rabbi himself sat
+down at the head, behind the dish. He always served, being the only
+person he could rely upon to gauge his capacities. Yankelé was left
+standing. The odour of the meat and potatoes impregnated the
+atmosphere with wistful poetry.
+
+Suddenly the Rabbi looked up and perceived Yankelé. "Will you do as we
+do?" he said in seductive accents.
+
+The _Schnorrer's_ heart gave one wild, mad throb of joy. He laid his
+hand on the only other chair.
+
+"I don't mind if I do," he said, with responsive amiability.
+
+"Then go home and have _your_ dinner," said the Rabbi.
+
+[Illustration: "'THEN GO HOME AND HAVE YOUR DINNER.'"]
+
+Yankelé's wild heart-beat was exchanged for a stagnation as of death.
+A shiver ran down his spine. He darted an agonised appealing glance at
+Manasseh, who sniggered inscrutably.
+
+"Oh, I don't tink I ought to go avay and leave you midout a tird man
+for grace," he said, in tones of prophetic rebuke. "Since I _be_ here,
+it vould be a sin not to stay."
+
+The Rabbi, having a certain connection with religion, was cornered; he
+was not able to repudiate such an opportunity of that more pious form
+of grace which needs the presence of three males.
+
+"Oh, I should be very glad for you to stay," said the Rabbi, "but,
+unfortunately, we have only three meat-plates."
+
+"Oh, de dish vill do for me."
+
+"Very well, then!" said the Rabbi.
+
+And Yankelé, with the old mad heart-beat, took the fourth chair,
+darting a triumphant glance at the still sniggering Manasseh.
+
+The hostess rose, misunderstanding her husband's optical signals, and
+fished out a knife and fork from the recesses of a chiffonier. The
+host first heaped his own plate high with artistically coloured
+potatoes and stiff meat--less from discourtesy than from life-long
+habit--then divided the remainder in unequal portions between Manasseh
+and the little woman, in rough correspondence with their sizes.
+Finally, he handed Yankelé the empty dish.
+
+"You see there is nothing left," he said simply. "We didn't even
+expect one visitor."
+
+"First come, first served," observed Manasseh, with his sphinx-like
+expression, as he fell-to.
+
+Yankelé sat frozen, staring blankly at the dish, his brain as empty.
+He had lost.
+
+Such a dinner was a hollow mockery--like the dish. He could not expect
+Manasseh to accept it, quibbled he ever so cunningly. He sat for a
+minute or two as in a dream, the music of knife and fork ringing
+mockingly in his ears, his hungry palate moistened by the delicious
+savour. Then he shook off his stupor, and all his being was
+desperately astrain, questing for an idea. Manasseh discoursed with
+his host on neo-Hebrew literature.
+
+"We thought of starting a journal at Grodno," said the Rabbi, "only
+the funds--"
+
+"Be you den a native of Grodno?" interrupted Yankelé.
+
+"Yes, I was born there," mumbled the Rabbi, "but I left there twenty
+years ago." His mouth was full, and he did not cease to ply the
+cutlery.
+
+"Ah!" said Yankelé enthusiastically, "den you must be de famous
+preacher everybody speaks of. I do not remember you myself, for I vas
+a boy, but dey say ve haven't got no such preachers nowaday."
+
+"In Grodno my husband kept a brandy shop," put in the hostess.
+
+There was a bad quarter of a minute of silence. To Yankelé's relief,
+the Rabbi ended it by observing, "Yes, but doubtless the gentleman
+(you will excuse me calling you that, sir, I don't know your real
+name) alluded to my fame as a boy-Maggid. At the age of five I
+preached to audiences of many hundreds, and my manipulation of texts,
+my demonstrations that they did not mean what they said, drew tears
+even from octogenarians familiar with the Torah from their earliest
+infancy. It was said there never was such a wonder-child since Ben
+Sira."
+
+"But why did you give it up?" enquired Manasseh.
+
+"It gave me up," said the Rabbi, putting down his knife and fork to
+expound an ancient grievance. "A boy-Maggid cannot last more than a
+few years. Up to nine I was still a draw, but every year the wonder
+grew less, and, when I was thirteen, my Bar-Mitzvah (confirmation)
+sermon occasioned no more sensation than those of the many other lads
+whose sermons I had written for them. I struggled along as boyishly as
+I could for some time after that, but it was in a losing cause. My age
+won on me daily. As it is said, 'I have been young, and now I am old.'
+In vain I composed the most eloquent addresses to be heard in Grodno.
+In vain I gave a course on the emotions, with explanations and
+instances from daily life--the fickle public preferred younger
+attractions. So at last I gave it up and sold _vodki_."
+
+[Illustration: "'SOLD VODKI.'"]
+
+"Vat a pity! Vat a pity!" ejaculated Yankelé, "after vinning fame in
+de Torah!"
+
+"But what is a man to do? He is not always a boy," replied the Rabbi.
+"Yes, I kept a brandy shop. That's what I call Degradation. But there
+is always balm in Gilead. I lost so much money over it that I had to
+emigrate to England, where, finding nothing else to do, I became a
+preacher again." He poured himself out a glass of _schnapps_, ignoring
+the water.
+
+"I heard nothing of de _vodki_ shop," said Yankelé; "it vas svallowed
+up in your earlier fame."
+
+The Rabbi drained the glass of _schnapps_, smacked his lips, and
+resumed his knife and fork. Manasseh reached for the unoffered bottle,
+and helped himself liberally. The Rabbi unostentatiously withdrew it
+beyond his easy reach, looking at Yankelé the while.
+
+"How long have you been in England?" he asked the Pole.
+
+"Not long," said Yankelé.
+
+"Ha! Does Gabriel the cantor still suffer from neuralgia?"
+
+Yankelé looked sad. "No--he is dead," he said.
+
+"Dear me! Well, he was tottering when I knew him. His blowing of the
+ram's horn got wheezier every year. And how is his young brother,
+Samuel?"
+
+"He is dead!" said Yankelé.
+
+"What, he too! Tut, tut! He was so robust. Has Mendelssohn, the
+stonemason, got many more girls?"
+
+"He is dead!" said Yankelé.
+
+"Nonsense!" gasped the Rabbi, dropping his knife and fork. "Why, I
+heard from him only a few months ago."
+
+"He is dead!" said Yankelé.
+
+"Good gracious me! Mendelssohn dead!" After a moment of emotion he
+resumed his meal. "But his sons and daughters are all doing well, I
+hope. The eldest, Solomon, was a most pious youth, and his third girl,
+Neshamah, promised to be a rare beauty."
+
+"They are dead!" said Yankelé.
+
+This time the Rabbi turned pale as a corpse himself. He laid down his
+knife and fork automatically.
+
+"D--dead," he breathed in an awestruck whisper. "All?"
+
+"Everyone. De same cholera took all de family."
+
+The Rabbi covered his face with his hands. "Then poor Solomon's wife
+is a widow. I hope he left her enough to live upon."
+
+"No, but it doesn't matter," said Yankelé.
+
+"It matters a great deal," cried the Rabbi.
+
+"She is dead," said Yankelé.
+
+"Rebecca Schwartz dead!" screamed the Rabbi, for he had once loved the
+maiden himself, and, not having married her, had still a tenderness
+for her.
+
+"Rebecca Schwartz," repeated Yankelé inexorably.
+
+"Was it the cholera?" faltered the Rabbi.
+
+"No, she vas heart-broke."
+
+Rabbi Remorse Red-herring silently pushed his plate away, and leaned
+his elbows upon the table and his face upon his palms, and his chin
+upon the bottle of _schnapps_ in mournful meditation.
+
+[Illustration: "IN MOURNFUL MEDITATION."]
+
+"You are not eating, Rabbi," said Yankelé insinuatingly.
+
+"I have lost my appetite," said the Rabbi.
+
+"Vat a pity to let food get cold and spoil! You'd better eat it."
+
+The Rabbi shook his head querulously.
+
+"Den I vill eat it," cried Yankelé indignantly. "Good hot food like
+dat!"
+
+"As you like," said the Rabbi wearily. And Yankelé began to eat at
+lightning speed, pausing only to wink at the inscrutable Manasseh; and
+to cast yearning glances at the inaccessible _schnapps_ that supported
+the Rabbi's chin.
+
+Presently the Rabbi looked up: "You're quite sure all these people are
+dead?" he asked with a dawning suspicion.
+
+"May my blood be poured out like this _schnapps_," protested Yankelé,
+dislodging the bottle, and vehemently pouring the spirit into a
+tumbler, "if dey be not."
+
+The Rabbi relapsed into his moody attitude, and retained it till his
+wife brought in a big willow-pattern china dish of stewed prunes and
+pippins. She produced four plates for these, and so Yankelé finished
+his meal in the unquestionable status of a first-class guest. The
+Rabbi was by this time sufficiently recovered to toy with two
+platefuls in a melancholy silence which he did not break till his
+mouth opened involuntarily to intone the grace.
+
+[Illustration: "PRUNES AND PIPPINS."]
+
+When grace was over he turned to Manasseh and said, "And what was this
+way you were suggesting to me of getting a profitable Sephardic
+connection?"
+
+"I did, indeed, wonder why you did not extend your practice as
+consolation preacher among the Spanish Jews," replied Manasseh
+gravely. "But after what we have just heard of the death-rate of Jews
+in Grodno, I should seriously advise you to go back there."
+
+"No, they cannot forget that I was once a boy," replied the Rabbi with
+equal gravity. "I prefer the Spanish Jews. They are all well-to-do.
+They may not die so often as the Russians, but they die better, so to
+speak. You will give me introductions, you will speak of me to your
+illustrious friends, I understand."
+
+"You understand!" repeated Manasseh in dignified astonishment. "You do
+not understand. I shall do no such thing."
+
+"But you yourself suggested it!" cried the Rabbi excitedly.
+
+"I? Nothing of the kind. I had heard of you and your ministrations to
+mourners, and meeting you in the street this afternoon for the first
+time, it struck me to enquire why you did not carry your consolations
+into the bosom of my community where so much more money is to be made.
+I said I wondered you had not done so from the first. And you--invited
+me to dinner. I still wonder. That is all, my good man." He rose to
+go.
+
+The haughty rebuke silenced the Rabbi, though his heart was hot with a
+vague sense of injury.
+
+"Do you come my way, Yankelé?" said Manasseh carelessly.
+
+The Rabbi turned hastily to his second guest.
+
+"When do you want me to marry you?" he asked.
+
+"You have married me," replied Yankelé.
+
+"I?" gasped the Rabbi. It was the last straw.
+
+"Yes," reiterated Yankelé. "Hasn't he, Mr. da Costa?"
+
+His heart went pit-a-pat as he put the question.
+
+"Certainly," said Manasseh without hesitation.
+
+Yankelé's face was made glorious summer. Only two of the quartette
+knew the secret of his radiance.
+
+"There, Rabbi," he cried exultantly. "Good Sabbath!"
+
+"Good Sabbath!" added Manasseh.
+
+"Good Sabbath," dazedly murmured the Rabbi.
+
+"Good Sabbath," added his wife.
+
+"Congratulate me!" cried Yankelé when they got outside.
+
+"On what?" asked Manasseh.
+
+"On being your future son-in-law, of course."
+
+"Oh, on _that_? Certainly, I congratulate you most heartily." The two
+_Schnorrers_ shook hands. "I thought you were asking for compliments
+on your manoeuvring."
+
+"Vy, doesn't it deserve dem?"
+
+"No," said Manasseh magisterially.
+
+"No?" queried Yankelé, his heart sinking again. "Vy not?"
+
+"Why did you kill so many people?"
+
+"Somebody must die dat I may live."
+
+"You said that before," said Manasseh severely. "A good _Schnorrer_
+would not have slaughtered so many for his dinner. It is a waste of
+good material. And then you told lies!"
+
+"How do you know they are not dead?" pleaded Yankelé.
+
+The King shook his head reprovingly. "A first-class _Schnorrer_ never
+lies," he laid it down.
+
+"I might have made truth go as far as a lie--if you hadn't come to
+dinner yourself."
+
+"What is that you say? Why, I came to encourage you by showing you how
+easy your task was."
+
+"On de contrary, you made it much harder for me. Dere vas no dinner
+left."
+
+"But against that you must reckon that since the Rabbi had already
+invited one person, he couldn't be so hard to tackle as I had
+fancied."
+
+"Oh, but you must not judge from yourself," protested Yankelé. "You be
+not a _Schnorrer_--you be a miracle."
+
+"But I should like a miracle for my son-in-law also," grumbled the
+King.
+
+"And if you had to _schnorr_ a son-in-law, you vould get a miracle,"
+said Yankelé soothingly. "As he has to _schnorr_ you, _he_ gets the
+miracle."
+
+"True," observed Manasseh musingly, "and I think you might therefore
+be very well content without the dowry."
+
+"So I might," admitted Yankelé, "only _you_ vould not be content to
+break your promise. I suppose I shall have some of de dowry on de
+marriage morning."
+
+"On that morning you shall get my daughter--without fail. Surely that
+will be enough for one day!"
+
+"Vell, ven do I get de money your daughter gets from de Synagogue?"
+
+"When she gets it from the Synagogue, of course."
+
+"How much vill it be?"
+
+"It may be a hundred and fifty pounds," said Manasseh pompously.
+
+Yankelé's eyes sparkled.
+
+"And it may be less," added Manasseh as an after-thought.
+
+"How much less?" enquired Yankelé anxiously.
+
+"A hundred and fifty pounds," repeated Manasseh pompously.
+
+"D'you mean to say I may get noting?"
+
+"Certainly, if she gets nothing. What I promised you was the money she
+gets from the Synagogue. Should she be fortunate enough in the
+_sorteo_--"
+
+"De _sorteo_! Vat is dat?"
+
+"The dowry I told you of. It is accorded by lot. My daughter has as
+good a chance as any other maiden. By winning her you stand to win a
+hundred and fifty pounds. It is a handsome amount. There are not many
+fathers who would do as much for their daughters," concluded Manasseh
+with conscious magnanimity.
+
+"But about de Jerusalem estate!" said Yankelé, shifting his
+standpoint. "I don't vant to go and live dere. De Messiah is not yet
+come."
+
+"No, you will hardly be able to live on it," admitted Manasseh.
+
+"You do not object to my selling it, den?"
+
+"Oh, no! If you are so sordid, if you have no true Jewish sentiment!"
+
+"Ven can I come into possession?"
+
+"On the wedding day if you like."
+
+"One may as vell get it over," said Yankelé, suppressing a desire to
+rub his hands in glee. "As de Talmud says, 'One peppercorn to-day is
+better dan a basketful of pumpkins to-morrow.'"
+
+"All right! I will bring it to the Synagogue."
+
+"Bring it to de Synagogue!" repeated Yankelé in amaze. "Oh, you mean
+de deed of transfer."
+
+"The deed of transfer! Do you think I waste my substance on
+solicitors? No, I will bring the property itself."
+
+"But how can you do dat?"
+
+"Where is the difficulty?" demanded Manasseh with withering contempt.
+"Surely a child could carry a casket of Jerusalem earth to Synagogue!"
+
+"A casket of earth! Is your property in Jerusalem only a casket of
+earth?"
+
+"What then? You didn't expect it would be a casket of diamonds?"
+retorted Manasseh, with gathering wrath. "To a true Jew a casket of
+Jerusalem earth is worth all the diamonds in the world."
+
+"But your Jerusalem property is a fraud!" gasped Yankelé.
+
+"Oh, no, you may be easy on that point. It's quite genuine. I know
+there is a good deal of spurious Palestine earth in circulation, and
+that many a dead man who has clods of it thrown into his tomb is
+nevertheless buried in unholy soil. But this casket I was careful to
+obtain from a Rabbi of extreme sanctity. It was the only thing he had
+worth _schnorring_."
+
+"I don't suppose I shall get more dan a crown for it," said Yankelé,
+with irrepressible indignation.
+
+"That's what I say," returned Manasseh; "and never did I think a
+son-in-law of mine would meditate selling my holy soil for a paltry
+five shillings! I will not withdraw my promise, but I am disappointed
+in you--bitterly disappointed. Had I known this earth was not to cover
+your bones, it should have gone down to the grave with me, as enjoined
+in my last will and testament, by the side of which it stands in my
+safe."
+
+"Very vell, I von't sell it," said Yankelé sulkily.
+
+"You relieve my soul. As the _Mishnah_ says, 'He who marries a wife
+for money begets froward children.'"
+
+"And vat about de province in England?" asked Yankelé, in low,
+despondent tones. He had never believed in _that_, but now, behind all
+his despair and incredulity, was a vague hope that something might yet
+be saved from the crash.
+
+"Oh, you shall choose your own," replied Manasseh graciously. "We will
+get a large map of London, and I will mark off in red pencil the
+domain in which I _schnorr_. You will then choose any district in
+this--say, two main streets and a dozen byways and alleys--which
+shall be marked off in blue pencil, and whatever province of my
+kingdom you pick, I undertake not to _schnorr_ in, from your
+wedding-day onwards. I need not tell you how valuable such a province
+already is; under careful administration, such as you would be able to
+give it, the revenue from it might be doubled, trebled. I do not think
+your tribute to me need be more than ten per cent."
+
+Yankelé walked along mesmerised, reduced to somnambulism by his
+magnificently masterful patron.
+
+"Oh, here we are!" said Manasseh, stopping short. "Won't you come in
+and see the bride, and wish her joy?"
+
+A flash of joy came into Yankelé's own face, dissipating his glooms.
+After all there was always da Costa's beautiful daughter--a solid,
+substantial satisfaction. He was glad she was not an item of the
+dowry.
+
+The unconscious bride opened the door.
+
+[Illustration: "THE UNCONSCIOUS BRIDE OPENED THE DOOR."]
+
+"Ah, ha, Yankelé!" said Manasseh, his paternal heart aglow at the
+sight of her loveliness. "You will be not only a king, but a rich
+king. As it is written, 'Who is rich? He who hath a beautiful wife.'"
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE KING DISSOLVED THE MAHAMAD.
+
+Manasseh da Costa (thus docked of his nominal plenitude in the solemn
+writ) had been summoned before the Mahamad, the intended union of his
+daughter with a Polish Jew having excited the liveliest horror and
+displeasure in the breasts of the Elders of the Synagogue. Such a Jew
+did not pronounce Hebrew as they did!
+
+[Illustration: "THE ELDERS OF THE SYNAGOGUE."]
+
+The Mahamad was a Council of Five, no less dread than the more
+notorious Council of Ten. Like the Venetian Tribunal, which has
+unjustly monopolised the attention of history, it was of annual
+election, and it was elected by a larger body of Elders, just as the
+Council of Ten was chosen by the aristocracy. "The gentlemen of the
+Mahamad," as they were styled, administered the affairs of the
+Spanish-Portuguese community, and their oligarchy would undoubtedly be
+a byword for all that is arbitrary and inquisitorial but for the
+widespread ignorance of its existence. To itself the Mahamad was the
+centre of creation. On one occasion it refused to bow even to the
+authority of the Lord Mayor of London. A Sephardic Jew lived and moved
+and had his being "by permission of the Mahamad." Without its consent
+he could have no legitimate place in the scheme of things. Minus "the
+permission of the Mahamad" he could not marry; with it he could be
+divorced readily. He might, indeed, die without the sanction of the
+Council of Five, but this was the only great act of his life which was
+free from its surveillance, and he could certainly not be buried save
+"by permission of the Mahamad." The Haham himself, the Sage or Chief
+Rabbi of the congregation, could not unite his flock in holy wedlock
+without the "permission of the Mahamad." And this authority was not
+merely negative and passive, it was likewise positive and active. To
+be a Yahid--a recognised congregant--one had to submit one's neck to a
+yoke more galling even than that of the Torah, to say nothing of the
+payment of Finta, or poll-tax. Woe to him who refused to be Warden of
+the Captives--he who ransomed the chained hostages of the Moorish
+Corsairs, or the war prisoners held in durance by the Turks--or to be
+President of the Congregation, or Parnass of the Holy Land, or
+Bridegroom of the Law, or any of the numerous dignitaries of a complex
+constitution. Fines, frequent and heavy--for the benefit of the
+poor-box--awaited him "by permission of the Mahamad." Unhappy the
+wight who misconducted himself in Synagogue "by offending the
+president, or grossly insulting any other person," as the ordinance
+deliciously ran. Penalties, stringent and harrying, visited these and
+other offences--deprivation of the "good deeds," of swathing the Holy
+Scroll, or opening the Ark; ignominious relegation to seats behind the
+reading-desk, withdrawal of the franchise, prohibition against shaving
+for a term of weeks! And if, accepting office, the Yahid failed in the
+punctual and regular discharge of his duties, he was mulcted and
+chastised none the less. A fine of forty pounds drove from the
+Synagogue Isaac Disraeli, collector of _Curiosities of Literature_,
+and made possible that curiosity of politics, the career of Lord
+Beaconsfield. The fathers of the Synagogue, who drew up their
+constitution in pure Castilian in the days when Pepys noted the
+indecorum in their little Synagogue in King Street, meant their
+statutes to cement, not thus to disintegrate, the community. 'Twas a
+tactless tyranny, this of the Mahamad, an inelastic administration of
+a cast-iron codex wrought "in good King Charles's golden days," when
+the colony of Dutch-Spanish exiles was as a camp in enemies' country,
+in need of military _régime_; and it co-operated with the attractions
+of an unhampered "Christian" career in driving many a brilliant family
+beyond the gates of the Ghetto, and into the pages of Debrett. Athens
+is always a dangerous rival to Sparta.
+
+But the Mahamad itself moved strictly in the grooves of prescription.
+That legalistic instinct of the Hebrew, which had evolved the most
+gigantic and minute code of conduct in the world, had beguiled these
+latter-day Jews into super-adding to it a local legislation that grew
+into two hundred pages of Portuguese--an intertangled network of
+_Ascamot_ or regulations, providing for every contingency of Synagogue
+politics, from the quarrels of members for the best seats down to the
+dimensions of their graves in the _Carreira_, from the distribution of
+"good deeds" among the rich to the distribution of Passover Cakes
+among the poor. If the wheels and pulleys of the communal life moved
+"by permission of the Mahamad," the Mahamad moved by permission of the
+_Ascamot_.
+
+The Solemn Council was met--"in complete Mahamad." Even the Chief of
+the Elders was present, by virtue of his privilege, making a sixth;
+not to count the Chancellor or Secretary, who sat flutteringly
+fingering the Portuguese Minute Book on the right of the President. He
+was a little man, an odd medley of pomp and bluster, with a
+snuff-smeared upper lip, and a nose that had dipped in the wine when
+it was red. He had a grandiose sense of his own importance, but it was
+a pride that had its roots in humility, for he felt himself great
+because he was the servant of greatness. He lived "by permission of
+the Mahamad." As an official he was theoretically inaccessible. If you
+approached him on a matter he would put out his palms deprecatingly
+and pant, "I must consult the Mahamad." It was said of him that he had
+once been asked the time, and that he had automatically panted, "I
+must consult the Mahamad." This consultation was the merest form; in
+practice the Secretary had more influence than the Chief Rabbi, who
+was not allowed to recommend an applicant for charity, for the quaint
+reason that the respect entertained for him might unduly prejudice the
+Council in favour of his candidate. As no gentleman of the Mahamad
+could possibly master the statutes in his year of office, especially
+as only a rare member understood the Portuguese in which they had been
+ultimately couched, the Secretary was invariably referred to, for he
+was permanent, full of saws and precedents, and so he interpreted the
+law with impartial inaccuracy--"by permission of the Mahamad." In his
+heart of hearts he believed that the sun rose and the rain fell--"by
+permission of the Mahamad."
+
+The Council Chamber was of goodly proportions, and was decorated by
+gold lettered panels, inscribed with the names of pious donors, thick
+as saints in a graveyard, overflowing even into the lobby. The flower
+and chivalry of the Spanish Jewry had sat round that Council-table,
+grandees who had plumed and ruffled it with the bloods of their day,
+clanking their swords with the best, punctilious withal and
+ceremonious, with the stately Castilian courtesy still preserved by
+the men who were met this afternoon, to whom their memory was as faint
+as the fading records of the panels. These descendants of theirs had
+still elaborate salutations and circumlocutions, and austere dignities
+of debate. "God-fearing men of capacity and respectability," as the
+_Ascama_ demanded, they were also men of money, and it gave them a
+port and a repose. His Britannic Majesty graced the throne no better
+than the President of the Mahamad, seated at the head of the long
+table in his alcoved arm-chair, with the Chief of the Elders on his
+left, and the Chancellor on his right, and his Councillors all about
+him. The westering sun sent a pencil of golden light through the
+Norman windows as if anxious to record the names of those present in
+gilt letters--"by permission of the Mahamad."
+
+[Illustration: "THE PRESIDENT OF THE MAHAMAD."]
+
+"Let da Costa enter," said the President, when the agenda demanded the
+great _Schnorrer's_ presence.
+
+The Chancellor fluttered to his feet, fussily threw open the door, and
+beckoned vacancy with his finger till he discovered Manasseh was not
+in the lobby. The beadle came hurrying up instead.
+
+[Illustration: "BECKONED WITH HIS FINGER."]
+
+"Where is da Costa?" panted the Chancellor. "Call da Costa."
+
+"Da Costa!" sonorously intoned the beadle with the long-drawn accent
+of court ushers.
+
+The corridor rang hollow, empty of Manasseh. "Why, he was here a
+moment ago," cried the bewildered beadle. He ran down the passage, and
+found him sure enough at the end of it where it abutted on the street.
+The King of _Schnorrers_ was in dignified converse with a person of
+consideration.
+
+"Da Costa!" the beadle cried again, but his tone was less awesome and
+more tetchy. The beggar did not turn his head.
+
+"Mr. da Costa," said the beadle, now arrived too near the imposing
+figure to venture on familiarities with it. This time the beggar gave
+indications of restored hearing. "Yes, my man," he said, turning and
+advancing a few paces to meet the envoy. "Don't go, Grobstock," he
+called over his shoulder.
+
+"Didn't you hear me calling?" grumbled the beadle.
+
+"I heard you calling da Costa, but I naturally imagined it was one of
+your drinking companions," replied Manasseh severely.
+
+"The Mahamad is waiting for you," faltered the beadle.
+
+"Tell _the gentlemen_ of the Mahamad," said Manasseh, with reproving
+emphasis, "that I shall do myself the pleasure of being with them
+presently. Nay, pray don't hurry away, my dear Grobstock," he went on,
+resuming his place at the German magnate's side--"and so your wife is
+taking the waters at Tunbridge Wells. In faith, 'tis an excellent
+regimen for the vapours. I am thinking of sending my wife to
+Buxton--the warden of our hospital has his country-seat there."
+
+"But you are wanted," murmured Grobstock, who was anxious to escape.
+He had caught the _Schnorrer's_ eye as its owner sunned himself in the
+archway, and it held him.
+
+"'Tis only a meeting of the Mahamad I have to attend," he said
+indifferently. "Rather a nuisance--but duty is duty."
+
+Grobstock's red face became a setting for two expanded eyes.
+
+"I thought the Mahamad was your chief Council," he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, there are only five of us," said Manasseh lightly, and, while
+Grobstock gaped incredulous, the Chancellor himself shambled up in
+pale consternation.
+
+"You are keeping the gentlemen of the Mahamad waiting," he panted
+imperiously.
+
+"Ah, you are right, Grobstock," said Manasseh with a sigh of
+resignation. "They cannot get on without me. Well, you will excuse me,
+I know. I am glad to have seen you again--we shall finish our chat at
+your house some evening, shall we? I have agreeable recollections of
+your hospitality."
+
+"My wife will be away all this month," Grobstock repeated feebly.
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Manasseh roguishly. "Thank you for the reminder.
+I shall not fail to aid you in taking advantage of her absence.
+Perhaps mine will be away, too--at Buxton. Two bachelors, ha! ha! ha!"
+and, proffering his hand, he shook Grobstock's in gracious farewell.
+Then he sauntered leisurely in the wake of the feverishly impatient
+Chancellor, his staff tapping the stones in measured tardiness.
+
+[Illustration: "'HA! HA! HA!' LAUGHED MANASSEH."]
+
+"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he observed affably as he entered the
+Council Chamber.
+
+"You have kept us waiting," sharply rejoined the President of the
+Mahamad, ruffled out of his regal suavity. He was a puffy, swarthy
+personage, elegantly attired, and he leaned forward on his velvet
+throne, tattooing on the table with bediamonded fingers.
+
+"Not so long as you have kept _me_ waiting," said Manasseh with quiet
+resentment. "If I had known you expected me to cool my heels in the
+corridor I should not have come, and, had not my friend the Treasurer
+of the Great Synagogue opportunely turned up to chat with me, I should
+not have stayed."
+
+"You are impertinent, sir," growled the President.
+
+"I think, sir, it is you who owe me an apology," maintained Manasseh
+unflinchingly, "and, knowing the courtesy and high breeding which has
+always distinguished your noble family, I can only explain your
+present tone by your being unaware I have a grievance. No doubt it is
+your Chancellor who cited me to appear at too early an hour."
+
+The President, cooled by the quiet dignity of the beggar, turned a
+questioning glance upon the outraged Chancellor, who was crimson and
+quivering with confusion and indignation.
+
+"It is usual t-t-to summon persons before the c-c-commencement of the
+meeting," he stammered hotly. "We cannot tell how long the prior
+business will take."
+
+"Then I would respectfully submit to the Chief of the Elders," said
+Manasseh, "that at the next meeting of his august body he move a
+resolution that persons cited to appear before the Mahamad shall take
+precedence of all other business."
+
+The Chief of the Elders looked helplessly at the President of the
+Mahamad, who was equally at sea. "However, I will not press that point
+now," added Manasseh, "nor will I draw the attention of the committee
+to the careless, perfunctory manner in which the document summoning me
+was drawn up, so that, had I been a stickler for accuracy, I need not
+have answered to the name of Manasseh da Costa."
+
+"But that _is_ your name," protested the Chancellor.
+
+"If you will examine the Charity List," said Manasseh magnificently,
+"you will see that my name is Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da
+Costa. But you are keeping the gentlemen of the Mahamad waiting." And
+with a magnanimous air of dismissing the past, he seated himself on
+the nearest empty chair at the foot of the table, leaned his elbows on
+the table, and his face on his hands, and gazed across at the
+President immediately opposite. The Councillors were so taken aback by
+his unexpected bearing that this additional audacity was scarcely
+noted. But the Chancellor, wounded in his inmost instincts, exclaimed
+irately, "Stand up, sir. These chairs are for the gentlemen of the
+Mahamad."
+
+"And being gentlemen," added Manasseh crushingly, "they know better
+than to keep an old man on his legs any longer."
+
+"If you were a gentleman," retorted the Chancellor, "you would take
+that thing off your head."
+
+"If you were not a Man-of-the-Earth," rejoined the beggar, "you would
+know that it is not a mark of disrespect for the Mahamad, but of
+respect for the Law, which is higher than the Mahamad. The rich man
+can afford to neglect our holy religion, but the poor man has only the
+Law. It is his sole luxury."
+
+The pathetic tremor in his voice stirred a confused sense of
+wrong-doing and injustice in the Councillors' breasts. The President
+felt vaguely that the edge of his coming impressive rebuke had been
+turned, if, indeed, he did not sit rebuked instead. Irritated, he
+turned on the Chancellor, and bade him hold his peace.
+
+"He means well," said Manasseh deprecatingly. "He cannot be expected
+to have the fine instincts of the gentlemen of the Mahamad. May I ask
+you, sir," he concluded, "to proceed with the business for which you
+have summoned me? I have several appointments to keep with clients."
+
+The President's bediamonded fingers recommenced their ill-tempered
+tattoo; he was fuming inwardly with a sense of baffled wrath, of
+righteous indignation made unrighteous. "Is it true, sir," he burst
+forth at last in the most terrible accents he could command in the
+circumstances, "that you meditate giving your daughter in marriage to
+a Polish Jew?"
+
+"No," replied Manasseh curtly.
+
+"No?" articulated the President, while a murmur of astonishment went
+round the table at this unexpected collapse of the whole case.
+
+"Why, your daughter admitted it to my wife," said the Councillor on
+Manasseh's right.
+
+Manasseh turned to him, expostulant, tilting his chair and body
+towards him. "My daughter is going to marry a Polish Jew," he
+explained with argumentative forefinger, "but I do not meditate giving
+her to him."
+
+"Oh, then, you will refuse your consent," said the Councillor,
+hitching his chair back so as to escape the beggar's progressive
+propinquity. "By no means," quoth Manasseh in surprised accents, as he
+drew his chair nearer again, "I have already consented. I do not
+_meditate_ consenting. That word argues an inconclusive attitude."
+
+"None of your quibbles, sirrah," cried the President, while a scarlet
+flush mantled on his dark countenance. "Do you not know that the union
+you contemplate is disgraceful and degrading to you, to your daughter,
+and to the community which has done so much for you? What! A Sephardi
+marry a Tedesco! Shameful."
+
+"And do you think I do not feel the shame as deeply as you?" enquired
+Manasseh, with infinite pathos. "Do you think, gentlemen, that I have
+not suffered from this passion of a Tedesco for my daughter? I came
+here expecting your sympathy, and do you offer me reproach? Perhaps
+you think, sir"--here he turned again to his right-hand neighbour,
+who, in his anxiety to evade his pertinacious proximity, had
+half-wheeled his chair round, offering only his back to the
+argumentative forefinger--"perhaps you think, because I have
+consented, that I cannot condole with you, that I am not at one with
+you in lamenting this blot on our common 'scutcheon; perhaps you
+think"--here he adroitly twisted his chair into argumentative
+position on the other side of the Councillor, rounding him like a
+cape--"that, because you have no sympathy with my tribulation, I have
+no sympathy with yours. But, if I have consented, it is only because
+it was the best I could do for my daughter. In my heart of hearts I
+have repudiated her, so that she may practically be considered an
+orphan, and, as such, a fit person to receive the marriage dowry
+bequeathed by Rodriguez Real, peace be upon him."
+
+"This is no laughing matter, sir," thundered the President, stung into
+forgetfulness of his dignity by thinking too much of it.
+
+"No, indeed," said Manasseh sympathetically, wheeling to the right so
+as to confront the President, who went on stormily, "Are you aware,
+sir, of the penalties you risk by persisting in your course?"
+
+"I risk no penalties," replied the beggar.
+
+"Indeed! Then do you think anyone may trample with impunity upon our
+ancient _Ascamot_?"
+
+"Our ancient _Ascamot_!" repeated Manasseh in surprise. "What have
+they to say against a Sephardi marrying a Tedesco?"
+
+The audacity of the question rendered the Council breathless. Manasseh
+had to answer it himself.
+
+"They have nothing to say. There is no such _Ascama_." There was a
+moment of awful silence. It was as though he had disavowed the
+Decalogue.
+
+"Do you question the first principle of our constitution?" said the
+President at last, in low, ominous tones. "Do you deny that your
+daughter is a traitress? Do you--?"
+
+"Ask your Chancellor," calmly interrupted Manasseh. "He is a
+Man-of-the-Earth, but he should know your statutes, and he will tell
+you that my daughter's conduct is nowhere forbidden."
+
+"Silence, sir," cried the President testily. "Mr. Chancellor, read the
+_Ascama_."
+
+The Chancellor wriggled on his chair, his face flushing and paling by
+turns; all eyes were bent upon him in anxious suspense. He hemmed and
+ha'd and coughed, and took snuff, and blew his nose elaborately.
+
+"There is n-n-no express _Ascama_," he stuttered at last. Manasseh sat
+still, in unpretentious triumph.
+
+The Councillor who was now become his right-hand neighbour was the
+first to break the dazed silence, and it was his first intervention.
+
+"Of course, it was never actually put into writing," he said in stern
+reproof. "It has never been legislated against, because it has never
+been conceived possible. These things are an instinct with every
+right-minded Sephardi. Have we ever legislated against marrying
+Christians?" Manasseh veered round half a point of the compass, and
+fixed the new opponent with his argumentative forefinger. "Certainly
+we have," he replied unexpectedly. "In Section XX., Paragraph II." He
+quoted the _Ascama_ by heart, rolling out the sonorous Portuguese like
+a solemn indictment. "If our legislators had intended to prohibit
+intermarriage with the German community, they would have prohibited
+it."
+
+"There is the Traditional Law as well as the Written," said the
+Chancellor, recovering himself. "It is so in our holy religion, it is
+so in our constitution."
+
+"Yes, there are precedents assuredly," cried the President eagerly.
+
+"There is the case of one of our Treasurers in the time of George
+II.," said the little Chancellor, blossoming under the sunshine of the
+President's encouragement, and naming the ancestor of a Duchess of
+to-day. "He wanted to marry a beautiful German Jewess."
+
+"And was interdicted," said the President.
+
+"Hem!" coughed the Chancellor. "He--he was only permitted to marry her
+under humiliating conditions. The Elders forbade the attendance of the
+members of the House of Judgment, or of the Cantors; no celebration
+was to take place in the _Snoga_; no offerings were to be made for the
+bridegroom's health, nor was he even to receive the bridegroom's call
+to the reading of the Law."
+
+[Illustration: "'HEM!' COUGHED THE CHANCELLOR."]
+
+"But the Elders will not impose any such conditions on my son-in-law,"
+said Manasseh, skirting round another chair so as to bring his
+forefinger to play upon the Chief of the Elders, on whose left he had
+now arrived in his argumentative advances. "In the first place he is
+not one of us. His desire to join us is a compliment. If anyone has
+offended your traditions, it is my daughter. But then she is not a
+male, like the Treasurer cited; she is not an active agent, she has
+not gone out of her way to choose a Tedesco--she has been chosen. Your
+masculine precedents cannot touch her."
+
+"Ay, but we can touch you," said the contemporary Treasurer,
+guffawing grimly. He sat opposite Manasseh, and next to the
+Chancellor.
+
+"Is it fines you are thinking of?" said Manasseh with a scornful
+glance across the table. "Very well, fine me--if you can afford it.
+You know that I am a student, a son of the Law, who has no resources
+but what you allow him. If you care to pay this fine it is your
+affair. There is always room in the poor-box. I am always glad to hear
+of fines. You had better make up your mind to the inevitable,
+gentlemen. Have I not had to do it? There is no _Ascama_ to prevent my
+son-in-law having all the usual privileges--in fact, it was to ask
+that he might receive the bridegroom's call to the Law on the Sabbath
+before his marriage that I really came. By Section III., Paragraph I.,
+you are empowered to admit any person about to marry the daughter of a
+Yahid." Again the sonorous Portuguese rang out, thrilling the
+Councillors with all that quintessential awfulness of ancient statutes
+in a tongue not understood. It was not till a quarter of a century
+later that the _Ascamot_ were translated into English, and from that
+moment their authority was doomed.
+
+The Chancellor was the first to recover from the quotation. Daily
+contact with these archaic sanctities had dulled his awe, and the
+President's impotent irritation spurred him to action.
+
+"But you are _not_ a Yahid," he said quietly. "By Paragraph V. of the
+same section, any one whose name appears on the Charity List ceases to
+be a Yahid."
+
+"And a vastly proper law," said Manasseh with irony. "Everybody may
+vote but the _Schnorrer_." And, ignoring the Chancellor's point at
+great length, he remarked confidentially to the Chief of the Elders,
+at whose elbow he was still encamped, "It is curious how few of your
+Elders perceive that those who take the charity are the pillars of
+the Synagogue. What keeps your community together? Fines. What ensures
+respect for your constitution? Fines. What makes every man do his
+duty? Fines. What rules this very Mahamad? Fines. And it is the poor
+who provide an outlet for all these moneys. Egad, do you think your
+members would for a moment tolerate your penalties, if they did not
+know the money was laid out in 'good deeds'? Charity is the salt of
+riches, says the Talmud, and, indeed, it is the salt that preserves
+your community."
+
+"Have done, sir, have done!" shouted the President, losing all regard
+for those grave amenities of the ancient Council Chamber which
+Manasseh did his best to maintain. "Do you forget to whom you are
+talking?"
+
+"I am talking to the Chief of the Elders," said Manasseh in a wounded
+tone, "but if you would like me to address myself to you--" and
+wheeling round the Chief of the Elders, he landed his chair next to
+the President's.
+
+"Silence, fellow!" thundered the President, shrinking spasmodically
+from his confidential contact. "You have no right to a voice at all;
+as the Chancellor has reminded us, you are not even a Yahid, a
+congregant."
+
+"Then the laws do not apply to me," retorted the beggar quietly. "It
+is only the Yahid who is privileged to do this, who is prohibited from
+doing that. No _Ascama_ mentions the _Schnorrer_, or gives you any
+authority over him."
+
+"On the contrary," said the Chancellor, seeing the President
+disconcerted again, "he is bound to attend the weekday services. But
+this man hardly ever does, sir." "I _never_ do," corrected Manasseh,
+with touching sadness. "That is another of the privileges I have to
+forego in order to take your charity; I cannot risk appearing to my
+Maker in the light of a mercenary."
+
+"And what prevents you taking your turn in the graveyard watches?"
+sneered the Chancellor.
+
+The antagonists were now close together, one on either side of the
+President of the Mahamad, who was wedged between the two bobbing,
+quarrelling figures, his complexion altering momently for the blacker,
+and his fingers working nervously.
+
+"What prevents me?" replied Manasseh. "My age. It would be a sin
+against heaven to spend a night in the cemetery. If the body-snatchers
+did come they might find a corpse to their hand in the watch-tower.
+But I do my duty--I always pay a substitute."
+
+"No doubt," said the Treasurer. "I remember your asking me for the
+money to keep an old man out of the cemetery. Now I see what you
+meant."
+
+"Yes," began two others, "and I--"
+
+"Order, gentlemen, order," interrupted the President desperately, for
+the afternoon was flitting, the sun was setting, and the shadows of
+twilight were falling. "You must not argue with the man. Hark you, my
+fine fellow, we refuse to sanction this marriage; it shall not be
+performed by our ministers, nor can we dream of admitting your
+son-in-law as a Yahid."
+
+"Then admit him on your Charity List," said Manasseh.
+
+"We are more likely to strike _you_ off! And, by gad!" cried the
+President, tattooing on the table with his whole fist, "if you don't
+stop this scandal instanter, we will send you howling."
+
+[Illustration: "'IF YOU DON'T STOP THIS SCANDAL INSTANTER, WE WILL
+SEND YOU HOWLING!'"]
+
+"Is it excommunication you threaten?" said Manasseh, rising to his
+feet. There was a menacing glitter in his eye.
+
+"This scandal must be stopped," repeated the President, agitatedly
+rising in involuntary imitation.
+
+"Any member of the Mahamad could stop it in a twinkling," said
+Manasseh sullenly. "You yourself, if you only chose."
+
+"If I only chose?" echoed the President enquiringly.
+
+"If you only chose my daughter. Are you not a bachelor? I am convinced
+she could not say nay to anyone present--excepting the Chancellor.
+Only no one is really willing to save the community from this scandal,
+and so my daughter must marry as best she can. And yet, it is a
+handsome creature who would not disgrace even a house in Hackney."
+
+Manasseh spoke so seriously that the President fumed the more. "Let
+her marry this Pole," he ranted, "and you shall be cut off from us in
+life and death. Alive, you shall worship without our walls, and dead
+you shall be buried 'behind the boards.'"
+
+"For the poor man--excommunication," said Manasseh in ominous
+soliloquy. "For the rich man--permission to marry the Tedesco of his
+choice."
+
+"Leave the room, fellow," vociferated the President. "You have heard
+our ultimatum!"
+
+But Manasseh did not quail.
+
+"And you shall hear mine," he said, with a quietness that was the more
+impressive for the President's fury. "Do not forget, Mr. President,
+that you and I owe allegiance to the same brotherhood. Do not forget
+that the power which made you can unmake you at the next election; do
+not forget that if I have no vote I have vast influence; that there is
+not a Yahid whom I do not visit weekly; that there is not a
+_Schnorrer_ who would not follow me in my exile. Do not forget that
+there is another community to turn to--yes! that very Ashkenazic
+community you contemn--with the Treasurer of which I talked but just
+now; a community that waxes daily in wealth and greatness while you
+sleep in your sloth." His tall form dominated the chamber, his head
+seemed to touch the ceiling. The Councillors sat dazed as amid a
+lightning-storm.
+
+"Jackanapes! Blasphemer! Shameless renegade!" cried the President,
+choking with wrath. And being already on his legs, he dashed to the
+bell and tugged at it madly, blanching the Chancellor's face with the
+perception of a lost opportunity.
+
+[Illustration: "HE DASHED TO THE BELL."]
+
+"I shall not leave this chamber till I choose," said Manasseh,
+dropping stolidly into the nearest chair and folding his arms.
+
+At once a cry of horror and consternation rose from every throat,
+every man leapt threateningly to his feet, and Manasseh realised that
+he was throned on the alcoved arm-chair!
+
+But he neither blenched nor budged.
+
+"Nay, keep your seats, gentlemen," he said quietly.
+
+The President, turning at the stir, caught sight of the _Schnorrer_,
+staggered and clutched at the mantel. The Councillors stood spellbound
+for an instant, while the Chancellor's eyes roved wildly round the
+walls, as if expecting the gold names to start from their panels. The
+beadle rushed in, terrified by the strenuous tintinnabulation, looked
+instinctively towards the throne for orders, then underwent
+petrifaction on the threshold, and stared speechless at Manasseh, what
+time the President, gasping like a landed cod, vainly strove to utter
+the order for the beggar's expulsion.
+
+"Don't stare at me, Gomez," Manasseh cried imperiously. "Can't you see
+the President wants a glass of water?"
+
+The beadle darted a glance at the President, and, perceiving his
+condition, rushed out again to get the water.
+
+This was the last straw. To see his authority usurped as well as his
+seat maddened the poor President. For some seconds he strove to mouth
+an oath, embracing his supine Councillors as well as this beggar on
+horseback, but he produced only an inarticulate raucous cry, and
+reeled sideways. Manasseh sprang from his chair and caught the falling
+form in his arms. For one terrible moment he stood supporting it in a
+tense silence, broken only by the incoherent murmurs of the
+unconscious lips; then crying angrily, "Bestir yourselves, gentlemen,
+don't you see the President is ill?" he dragged his burden towards the
+table, and, aided by the panic-stricken Councillors, laid it flat
+thereupon, and threw open the ruffled shirt. He swept the Minute Book
+to the floor with an almost malicious movement, to make room for the
+President.
+
+The beadle returned with the glass of water, which he well-nigh
+dropped.
+
+"Run for a physician," Manasseh commanded, and throwing away the water
+carelessly, in the Chancellor's direction, he asked if anyone had any
+brandy. There was no response.
+
+"Come, come, Mr. Chancellor," he said, "bring out your phial." And the
+abashed functionary obeyed.
+
+"Has any of you his equipage without?" Manasseh demanded next of the
+Mahamad.
+
+They had not, so Manasseh despatched the Chief of the Elders in quest
+of a sedan chair. Then there was nothing left but to await the
+physician.
+
+"You see, gentlemen, how insecure is earthly power," said the
+_Schnorrer_ solemnly, while the President breathed stertorously, deaf
+to his impressive moralising. "It is swallowed up in an instant, as
+Lisbon was engulfed. Cursed are they who despise the poor. How is the
+saying of our sages verified--'The house that opens not to the poor
+opens to the physician.'" His eyes shone with unearthly radiance in
+the gathering gloom.
+
+The cowed assembly wavered before his words, like reeds before the
+wind, or conscience-stricken kings before fearless prophets.
+
+When the physician came he pronounced that the President had had a
+slight stroke of apoplexy, involving a temporary paralysis of the
+right foot. The patient, by this time restored to consciousness, was
+conveyed home in the sedan chair, and the Mahamad dissolved in
+confusion. Manasseh was the last to leave the Council Chamber. As he
+stalked into the corridor he turned the key in the door behind him
+with a vindictive twist. Then, plunging his hand into his
+breeches-pocket, he gave the beadle a crown, remarking genially, "You
+must have your usual perquisite, I suppose."
+
+The beadle was moved to his depths. He had a burst of irresistible
+honesty. "The President gives me only half-a-crown," he murmured.
+
+"Yes, but he may not be able to attend the next meeting," said
+Manasseh. "And I may be away, too."
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE KING ENRICHED THE SYNAGOGUE.
+
+The Synagogue of the Gates of Heaven was crowded--members, orphan
+boys, _Schnorrers_, all were met in celebration of the Sabbath. But
+the President of the Mahamad was missing. He was still inconvenienced
+by the effects of his stroke, and deemed it most prudent to pray at
+home. The Council of Five had not met since Manasseh had dissolved it,
+and so the matter of his daughter's marriage was left hanging, as
+indeed was not seldom the posture of matters discussed by Sephardic
+bodies. The authorities thus passive, Manasseh found scant difficulty
+in imposing his will upon the minor officers, less ready than himself
+with constitutional precedent. His daughter was to be married under
+the Sephardic canopy, and no jot of synagogual honour was to be bated
+the bridegroom. On this Sabbath--the last before the wedding--Yankelé
+was to be called to the Reading of the Law like a true-born
+Portuguese. He made his first appearance in the Synagogue of his
+bride's fathers with a feeling of solemn respect, not exactly due to
+Manasseh's grandiose references to the ancient temple. He had walked
+the courtyard with levity, half prepared, from previous experience of
+his intended father-in-law, to find the glories insubstantial. Their
+unexpected actuality awed him, and he was glad he was dressed in his
+best. His beaver hat, green trousers, and brown coat equalled him with
+the massive pillars, the gleaming candelabra, and the stately roof. Da
+Costa, for his part, had made no change in his attire; he dignified
+his shabby vestments, stuffing them with royal manhood, and wearing
+his snuff-coloured over-garment like a purple robe. There was, in
+sooth, an official air about his habiliment, and to the worshippers it
+was as impressively familiar as the black stole and white bands of the
+Cantor. It seemed only natural that he should be called to the Reading
+first, quite apart from the fact that he was a _Cohen_, of the family
+of Aaron, the High Priest, a descent that, perhaps, lent something to
+the loftiness of his carriage.
+
+When the Minister intoned vigorously, "The good name, Manasseh, the
+son of Judah, the Priest, the man, shall arise to read in the Law,"
+every eye was turned with a new interest on the prospective
+father-in-law. Manasseh arose composedly, and, hitching his sliding
+prayer-shawl over his left shoulder, stalked to the reading platform,
+where he chanted the blessings with imposing flourishes, and stood at
+the Minister's right hand while his section of the Law was read from
+the sacred scroll. There was many a man of figure in the congregation,
+but none who became the platform better. It was beautiful to see him
+pay his respects to the scroll; it reminded one of the meeting of two
+sovereigns. The great moment, however, was when, the section being
+concluded, the Master Reader announced Manasseh's donations to the
+Synagogue. The financial statement was incorporated in a long
+Benediction, like a coin wrapped up in folds of paper. This was always
+a great moment, even when inconsiderable personalities were concerned,
+each man's generosity being the subject of speculation before and
+comment after. Manasseh, it was felt, would, although a mere
+_Schnorrer_, rise to the height of the occasion, and offer as much as
+seven and sixpence. The shrewder sort suspected he would split it up
+into two or three separate offerings, to give an air of inexhaustible
+largess.
+
+The shrewder sort were right and wrong, as is their habit.
+
+The Master Reader began his quaint formula, "May He who blessed our
+Fathers," pausing at the point where the Hebrew is blank for the
+amount. He span out the prefatory "Who vows"--the last note prolonging
+itself, like the vibration of a tuning-fork, at a literal pitch of
+suspense. It was a sensational halt, due to his forgetting the amounts
+or demanding corroboration at the eleventh hour, and the stingy often
+recklessly amended their contributions, panic-struck under the
+pressure of imminent publicity.
+
+"Who vows--" The congregation hung upon his lips. With his usual
+gesture of interrogation, he inclined his ear towards Manasseh's
+mouth, his face wearing an unusual look of perplexity; and those
+nearest the platform were aware of a little colloquy between the
+_Schnorrer_ and the Master Reader, the latter bewildered and agitated,
+the former stately. The delay had discomposed the Master as much as it
+had whetted the curiosity of the congregation. He repeated:
+
+"Who vows--_cinco livras_"--he went on glibly without a pause--"for
+charity--for the life of Yankov ben Yitzchok, his son-in-law, &c.,
+&c." But few of the worshippers heard any more than the _cinco livras_
+(five pounds). A thrill ran through the building. Men pricked up their
+ears, incredulous, whispering one another. One man deliberately moved
+from his place towards the box in which sat the Chief of the Elders,
+the presiding dignitary in the absence of the President of the
+Mahamad.
+
+"I didn't catch--how much was that?" he asked.
+
+[Illustration: "'I DIDN'T CATCH.'"]
+
+"Five pounds," said the Chief of the Elders shortly. He suspected an
+irreverent irony in the Beggar's contribution.
+
+The Benediction came to an end, but ere the hearers had time to
+realise the fact, the Master Reader had started on another. "May He
+who blessed our fathers!" he began, in the strange traditional
+recitative. The wave of curiosity mounted again, higher than before.
+
+"Who vows--"
+
+The wave hung an instant, poised and motionless.
+
+"_Cinco livras!_"
+
+The wave broke in a low murmur, amid which the Master imperturbably
+proceeded, "For oil--for the life of his daughter Deborah, &c." When
+he reached the end there was a poignant silence.
+
+Was it to be _da capo_ again?
+
+"May He who blessed our fathers!"
+
+The wave of curiosity surged once more, rising and subsiding with this
+ebb and flow of financial Benediction.
+
+"Who vows--_cinco livras_--for the wax candles."
+
+This time the thrill, the whisper, the flutter, swelled into a
+positive buzz. The gaze of the entire congregation was focussed upon
+the Beggar, who stood impassive in the blaze of glory. Even the orphan
+boys, packed in their pew, paused in their inattention to the Service,
+and craned their necks towards the platform. The veriest magnates did
+not thus play piety with five pound points. In the ladies' gallery the
+excitement was intense. The occupants gazed eagerly through the
+grille. One woman--a buxom dame of forty summers, richly clad and
+jewelled--had risen, and was tiptoeing frantically over the woodwork,
+her feather waving like a signal of distress. It was Manasseh's wife.
+The waste of money maddened her, each donation hit her like a poisoned
+arrow; in vain she strove to catch her spouse's eye. The air seemed
+full of gowns and toques and farthingales flaming away under her very
+nose, without her being able to move hand or foot in rescue; whole
+wardrobes perished at each Benediction. It was with the utmost
+difficulty she restrained herself from shouting down to her prodigal
+lord. At her side the radiant Deborah vainly tried to pacify her by
+assurances that Manasseh never intended to pay up.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE STROVE TO CATCH HER SPOUSE'S EYE."]
+
+"Who vows--" The Benediction had begun for a fourth time.
+
+"_Cinco livras_ for the Holy Land." And the sensation grew. "For the
+life of this holy congregation, &c."
+
+The Master Reader's voice droned on impassively, interminably.
+
+The fourth Benediction was drawing to its close, when the beadle was
+seen to mount the platform and whisper in his ear. Only Manasseh
+overheard the message.
+
+"The Chief of the Elders says you must stop. This is mere mockery. The
+man is a _Schnorrer_, an impudent beggar."
+
+The beadle descended the steps, and after a moment of inaudible
+discussion with da Costa, the Master Reader lifted up his voice
+afresh.
+
+The Chief of the Elders frowned and clenched his praying-shawl
+angrily. It was a fifth Benediction! But the Reader's sing-song went
+on, for Manasseh's wrath was nearer than the magnate's.
+
+"Who vows--_cinco livras_--for the Captives--for the life of the Chief
+of the Elders!"
+
+The Chief bit his lip furiously at this delicate revenge; galled
+almost to frenzy by the aggravating foreboding that the congregation
+would construe his message as a solicitation of the polite attention.
+For it was of the amenities of the Synagogue for rich people to
+present these Benedictions to one another. And so the endless stream
+of donatives flowed on, provoking the hearers to fever pitch. The very
+orphan boys forgot that this prolongation of the service was retarding
+their breakfasts indefinitely. Every warden, dignitary and official,
+from the President of the Mahamad down to the very Keeper of the Bath,
+was honoured by name in a special Benediction, the chief of Manasseh's
+weekly patrons were repaid almost in kind on this unique and festive
+occasion. Most of the congregation kept count of the sum total, which
+was mounting, mounting....
+
+Suddenly there was a confusion in the ladies' gallery, cries, a babble
+of tongues. The beadle hastened upstairs to impose his authority. The
+rumour circulated that Mrs. da Costa had fainted and been carried out.
+It reached Manasseh's ears, but he did not move. He stood at his post,
+unfaltering, donating, blessing.
+
+[Illustration: "MRS. DA COSTA HAD FAINTED."]
+
+"Who vows--_cinco livras_--for the life of his wife, Sarah!" And a
+faint sardonic smile flitted across the Beggar's face.
+
+The oldest worshipper wondered if the record would be broken.
+Manasseh's benefactions were approaching thrillingly near the highest
+total hitherto reached by any one man upon any one occasion. Every
+brain was troubled by surmises. The Chief of the Elders, fuming
+impotently, was not alone in apprehending a blasphemous mockery; but
+the bulk imagined that the _Schnorrer_ had come into property or had
+always been a man of substance, and was now taking this means of
+restoring to the Synagogue the funds he had drawn from it. And the
+fountain of Benevolence played on.
+
+The record figure was reached and left in the rear. When at length the
+poor Master Reader, sick unto death of the oft-repeated formula (which
+might just as well have covered all the contributions the first time,
+though Manasseh had commanded each new Benediction as if by an
+after-thought), was allowed to summon the Levite who succeeded
+Manasseh, the Synagogue had been enriched by a hundred pounds. The
+last Benediction had been coupled with the name of the poorest
+_Schnorrer_ present--an assertion and glorification of Manasseh's own
+order that put the coping-stone on this sensational memorial of the
+Royal Wedding. It was, indeed, a kingly munificence, a sovereign
+graciousness. Nay, before the Service was over, Manasseh even begged
+the Chief of the Elders to permit a special _Rogation_ to be said for
+a sick person. The Chief, meanly snatching at this opportunity of
+reprisals, refused, till, learning that Manasseh alluded to the ailing
+President of the Mahamad, he collapsed ingloriously.
+
+But the real hero of the day was Yankelé, who shone chiefly by
+reflected light, but yet shone even more brilliantly than the
+Spaniard, for to him was added the double lustre of the bridegroom and
+the stranger, and he was the cause and centre of the sensation.
+
+His eyes twinkled continuously throughout.
+
+The next day, Manasseh fared forth to collect the hundred pounds!
+
+The day being Sunday, he looked to find most of his clients at home.
+He took Grobstock first as being nearest, but the worthy speculator
+and East India Director espied him from an upper window, and escaped
+by a back-door into Goodman's Fields--a prudent measure, seeing that
+the incredulous Manasseh ransacked the house in quest of him.
+Manasseh's manner was always a search-warrant.
+
+The King consoled himself by paying his next visit to a personage who
+could not possibly evade him--none other than the sick President of
+the Mahamad. He lived in Devonshire Square, in solitary splendour. Him
+Manasseh bearded in his library, where the convalescent was sorting
+his collection of prints. The visitor had had himself announced as a
+gentleman on synagogual matters, and the public-spirited President had
+not refused himself to the business. But when he caught sight of
+Manasseh, his puffy features were distorted, he breathed painfully,
+and put his hand to his hip.
+
+[Illustration: "SORTING HIS COLLECTION OF PRINTS."]
+
+"You!" he gasped.
+
+"Have a care, my dear sir! Have a care!" said Manasseh anxiously, as
+he seated himself. "You are still weak. To come to the point--for I
+would not care to distract too much a man indispensable to the
+community, who has already felt the hand of the Almighty for his
+treatment of the poor--"
+
+He saw that his words were having effect, for these prosperous pillars
+of the Synagogue were mightily superstitious under affliction, and he
+proceeded in gentler tones. "To come to the point, it is my duty to
+inform you (for I am the only man who is certain of it) that while you
+have been away our Synagogue has made a bad debt!"
+
+"A bad debt!" An angry light leapt into the President's eyes. There
+had been an ancient practice of lending out the funds to members, and
+the President had always set his face against the survival of the
+policy. "It would not have been made had I been there!" he cried.
+
+"No, indeed," admitted Manasseh. "You would have stopped it in its
+early stages. The Chief of the Elders tried, but failed."
+
+"The dolt!" cried the President. "A man without a backbone. How much
+is it?"
+
+"A hundred pounds!"
+
+"A hundred pounds!" echoed the President, seriously concerned at this
+blot upon his year of office. "And who is the debtor?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"You! You have borrowed a hundred pounds, you--you jackanapes!"
+
+"Silence, sir! How dare you? I should leave this apartment at once,
+were it not that I cannot go without your apology. Never in my life
+have I borrowed a hundred pounds--nay, never have I borrowed one
+farthing. I am no borrower. If you are a gentleman, you will
+apologise!"
+
+"I am sorry if I misunderstood," murmured the poor President, "but
+how, then, do you owe the money?"
+
+"How, then?" repeated Manasseh impatiently. "Cannot you understand
+that I have donated it to the Synagogue?"
+
+The President stared at him open-mouthed.
+
+"I vowed it yesterday in celebration of my daughter's marriage."
+
+The President let a sigh of relief pass through his open mouth. He was
+even amused a little.
+
+"Oh, is that all? It was like your deuced effrontery; but still, the
+Synagogue doesn't lose anything. There's no harm done."
+
+"What is that you say?" enquired Manasseh sternly. "Do you mean to say
+I am not to pay this money?"
+
+"How can you?"
+
+"How can I? I come to you and others like you to pay it for me."
+
+"Nonsense! Nonsense!" said the President, beginning to lose his temper
+again. "We'll let it pass. There's no harm done."
+
+"And this is the President of the Mahamad!" soliloquised the
+_Schnorrer_ in bitter astonishment. "This is the chief of our ancient,
+godly Council! What, sir! Do you hold words spoken solemnly in
+Synagogue of no account? Would you have me break my solemn vow? Do you
+wish to bring the Synagogue institutions into contempt? Do you--a man
+already once stricken by Heaven--invite its chastisement again?"
+
+The President had grown pale--his brain was reeling.
+
+"Nay, ask its forgiveness, sir," went on the King implacably; "and
+make good this debt of mine in token of your remorse, as it is
+written, 'And repentance, and prayer, and _charity_ avert the evil
+decree.'"
+
+"Not a penny!" cried the President, with a last gleam of lucidity, and
+strode furiously towards the bell-pull. Then he stood still in sudden
+recollection of a similar scene in the Council Chamber.
+
+"You need not trouble to ring for a stroke," said Manasseh grimly.
+"Then the Synagogue is to be profaned, then even the Benediction which
+I in all loyalty and forgiveness caused to be said for the recovery of
+the President of the Mahamad is to be null, a mockery in the sight of
+the Holy One, blessed be He!"
+
+The President tottered into his reading-chair.
+
+"How much did you vow on my behalf?"
+
+"Five pounds."
+
+The President precipitately drew out a pocket-book and extracted a
+crisp Bank of England note.
+
+"Give it to the Chancellor," he breathed, exhausted.
+
+"I am punished," quoth Manasseh plaintively as he placed it in his
+bosom. "I should have vowed ten for you." And he bowed himself out.
+
+In like manner did he collect other contributions that day from
+Sephardic celebrities, pointing out that now a foreign Jew--Yankelé to
+wit--had been admitted to their communion, it behoved them to show
+themselves at their best. What a bad effect it would have on Yankelé
+if a Sephardi was seen to vow with impunity! First impressions were
+everything, and they could not be too careful. It would not do for
+Yankelé to circulate contumelious reports of them among his kin. Those
+who remonstrated with him over his extravagance he reminded that he
+had only one daughter, and he drew their attention to the favourable
+influence his example had had on the Saturday receipts. Not a man of
+those who came after him in the Reading had ventured to offer
+half-crowns. He had fixed the standard in gold for that day at least,
+and who knew what noble emulation he had fired for the future?
+
+Every man who yielded to Manasseh's eloquence was a step to reach the
+next, for Manasseh made a list of donors, and paraded it reproachfully
+before those who had yet to give. Withal, the most obstinate
+resistance met him in some quarters. One man--a certain Rodriques,
+inhabiting a mansion in Finsbury Circus--was positively rude.
+
+"If I came in a carriage, you'd soon pull out your ten-pound note for
+the Synagogue," sneered Manasseh, his blood boiling.
+
+"Certainly I would," admitted Rodriques laughing. And Manasseh shook
+off the dust of his threshold in disdain.
+
+By reason of such rebuffs, his collection for the day only reached
+about thirty pounds, inclusive of the value of some depreciated
+Portuguese bonds which he good-naturedly accepted as though at par.
+
+Disgusted with the meanness of mankind, da Costa's genius devised more
+drastic measures. Having carefully locked up the proceeds of Sunday's
+operations, and, indeed, nearly all his loose cash, in his safe, for,
+to avoid being put to expense, he rarely carried money on his person,
+unless he gathered it _en route_, he took his way to Bishopsgate
+Within, to catch the stage for Clapton. The day was bright, and he
+hummed a festive Synagogue tune as he plodded leisurely with his stick
+along the bustling, narrow pavements, bordered by costers' barrows at
+one edge, and by jagged houses, overhung by grotesque signboards, at
+the other, and thronged by cits in worsted hose.
+
+But when he arrived at the inn he found the coach had started. Nothing
+concerned, he ordered a post-chaise in a supercilious manner,
+criticising the horses, and drove to Clapton in style, drawn by a pair
+of spanking steeds, to the music of the postillion's horn. Very soon
+they drew out of the blocked roads, with their lumbering procession of
+carts, coaches, and chairs, and into open country, green with the
+fresh verdure of the spring. The chaise stopped at "The Red Cottage,"
+a pretty villa, whose façade was covered with Virginian creeper that
+blushed in the autumn. Manasseh was surprised at the taste with which
+the lawn was laid out in the Italian style, with grottoes and marble
+figures. The householder, hearing the windings of the horn, conceived
+himself visited by a person of quality, and sent a message that he was
+in the hands of his hairdresser, but would be down in less than half
+an hour. This was of a piece with Manasseh's information concerning
+the man--a certain Belasco, emulous of the great fops, an amateur of
+satin waistcoats and novel shoestrings, and even said to affect a
+spying-glass when he showed at Vauxhall. Manasseh had never seen him,
+not having troubled to go so far afield, but from the handsome
+appurtenances of the hall and the staircase he augured the best. The
+apartments were even more to his liking; they were oak panelled, and
+crammed with the most expensive objects of art and luxury. The walls
+of the drawing-room were frescoed, and from the ceiling depended a
+brilliant lustre, with seven spouts for illumination.
+
+Having sufficiently examined the furniture, Manasseh grew weary of
+waiting, and betook himself to Belasco's bedchamber.
+
+"You will excuse me, Mr. Belasco," he said, as he entered through the
+half open door, "but my business is urgent."
+
+The young dandy, who was seated before a mirror, did not look up, but
+replied, "Have a care, sir, you well nigh startled my hairdresser."
+
+"Far be it from me to willingly discompose an artist," replied
+Manasseh drily, "though from the elegance of the design, I venture to
+think my interruption will not make a hair's-breadth of difference.
+But I come on a matter which the son of Benjamin Belasco will hardly
+deny is more pressing than his toilette."
+
+"Nay, nay, sir, what can be more momentous?"
+
+"The Synagogue!" said Manasseh austerely.
+
+"Pah! What are you talking of, sir?" and he looked up cautiously for
+the first time at the picturesque figure. "What does the Synagogue
+want of me? I pay my _finta_ and every bill the rascals send me.
+Monstrous fine sums, too, egad--"
+
+"But you never go there!"
+
+"No, indeed, a man of fashion cannot be everywhere. Routs and rigotti
+play the deuce with one's time."
+
+"What a pity!" mused Manasseh ironically. "One misses you there. 'Tis
+no edifying spectacle--a slovenly rabble with none to set the standard
+of taste."
+
+The pale-faced beau's eyes lit up with a gleam of interest.
+
+"Ah, the clods!" he said. "You should yourself be a buck of the
+eccentric school by your dress. But I stick to the old tradition of
+elegance."
+
+"You had better stick to the old tradition of piety," quoth Manasseh.
+"Your father was a saint, you are a sinner in Israel. Return to the
+Synagogue, and herald your return by contributing to its finances. It
+has made a bad debt, and I am collecting money to reimburse it."
+
+The young exquisite yawned. "I know not who you may be," he said at
+length, "but you are evidently not one of us. As for the Synagogue I
+am willing to reform its dress, but dem'd if I will give a shilling
+more to its finances. Let your slovenly rabble of tradesmen pay the
+piper--I cannot afford it!"
+
+"_You_ cannot afford it!"
+
+"No--you see I have such extravagant tastes."
+
+"But I give you the opportunity for extravagance," expostulated
+Manasseh. "What greater luxury is there than that of doing good?"
+
+"Confound it, sir, I must ask you to go," said Beau Belasco coldly.
+"Do you not perceive that you are disconcerting my hairdresser?"
+
+"I could not abide a moment longer under this profane, if tasteful,
+roof," said Manasseh, backing sternly towards the door. "But I would
+make one last appeal to you, for the sake of the repose of your
+father's soul, to forsake your evil ways."
+
+"Be hanged to you for a meddler," retorted the young blood. "My money
+supports men of genius and taste--it shall not be frittered away on a
+pack of fusty shopkeepers."
+
+The _Schnorrer_ drew himself up to his full height, his eyes darted
+fire. "Farewell, then!" he hissed in terrible tones. "_You will make
+the third at Grace!_"
+
+[Illustration: "'FAREWELL!' HE HISSED."]
+
+He vanished--the dandy started up full of vague alarm, forgetting
+even his hair in the mysterious menace of that terrifying sibilation.
+
+"What do you mean?" he cried.
+
+"I mean," said Manasseh, reappearing at the door, "that since the
+world was created, only two men have taken their clothes with them to
+the world to come. One was Korah, who was swallowed down, the other
+was Elijah, who was borne aloft. It is patent in which direction the
+third will go."
+
+The sleeping chord of superstition vibrated under Manasseh's dexterous
+touch.
+
+"Rejoice, O young man, in your strength," went on the Beggar, "but a
+day will come when only the corpse-watchers will perform your
+toilette. In plain white they will dress you, and the devil shall
+never know what a dandy you were."
+
+"But who are you, that I should give you money for the Synagogue?"
+asked the Beau sullenly. "Where are your credentials?"
+
+"Was it to insult me that you called me back? Do I look a knave? Nay,
+put up your purse. I'll have none of your filthy gold. Let me go."
+
+Gradually Manasseh was won round to accepting ten sovereigns.
+
+"For your father's sake," he said, pocketing them. "The only thing I
+will take for your sake is the cost of my conveyance. I had to post
+hither, and the Synagogue must not be the loser."
+
+Beau Belasco gladly added the extra money, and reseated himself before
+the mirror, with agreeable sensations in his neglected conscience.
+"You see," he observed, half apologetically, for Manasseh still
+lingered, "one cannot do everything. To be a prince of dandies, one
+needs all one's time." He waved his hand comprehensively around the
+walls which were lined with wardrobes. "My buckskin breeches were the
+result of nine separate measurings. Do you note how they fit?"
+
+"They scarcely do justice to your eminent reputation," replied
+Manasseh candidly.
+
+Beau Belasco's face became whiter than even at the thought of
+earthquakes and devils. "They fit me to bursting!" he breathed.
+
+"But are they in the pink of fashion?" queried Manasseh. "And
+assuredly the nankeen pantaloons yonder I recollect to have seen worn
+last year."
+
+"My tailor said they were of a special cut--'tis a shape I am
+introducing, baggy--to go with frilled shirts."
+
+Manasseh shook his head sceptically, whereupon the Beau besought him
+to go through his wardrobe, and set aside anything that lacked
+originality or extreme fashionableness. After considerable reluctance
+Manasseh consented, and set aside a few cravats, shirts, periwigs, and
+suits from the immense collection.
+
+"Aha! That is all you can find," said the Beau gleefully.
+
+"Yes, that is all," said Manasseh sadly. "All I can find that does any
+justice to your fame. These speak the man of polish and invention; the
+rest are but tawdry frippery. Anybody might wear them."
+
+"Anybody!" gasped the poor Beau, stricken to the soul.
+
+"Yes, I might wear them myself."
+
+"Thank you! Thank you! You are an honest man. I love true criticism,
+when the critic has nothing to gain. I am delighted you called. These
+rags shall go to my valet."
+
+"Nay, why waste them on the heathen?" asked Manasseh, struck with a
+sudden thought. "Let me dispose of them for the benefit of the
+Synagogue."
+
+"If it would not be troubling you too much!"
+
+"Is there anything I would not do for Heaven?" said Manasseh with a
+patronising air. He threw open the door of the adjoining piece
+suddenly, disclosing the scowling valet on his knees. "Take these
+down, my man," he said quietly, and the valet was only too glad to
+hide his confusion at being caught eavesdropping by hastening down to
+the drive with an armful of satin waistcoats.
+
+[Illustration: "THE SCOWLING VALET ON HIS KNEES."]
+
+Manasseh, getting together the remainder, shook his head despairingly.
+"I shall never get these into the post-chaise," he said. "You will
+have to lend me your carriage."
+
+"Can't you come back for them?" said the Beau feebly.
+
+"Why waste the Synagogue's money on hired vehicles? No, if you will
+crown your kindness by sending the footman along with me to help me
+unpack them, you shall have your equipage back in an hour or two."
+
+So the carriage and pair were brought out, and Manasseh, pressing into
+his service the coachman, the valet, and the footman, superintended
+the packing of the bulk of Beau Belasco's wardrobe into the two
+vehicles. Then he took his seat in the carriage, the coachman and the
+gorgeous powdered footman got into their places, and with a joyous
+fanfaronade on the horn, the procession set off, Manasseh bowing
+graciously to the master of "The Red House," who was waving his
+beruffled hand from a window embowered in greenery. After a pleasant
+drive, the vehicles halted at the house, guarded by stone lions, in
+which dwelt Nathaniel Furtado, the wealthy private dealer, who
+willingly gave fifteen pounds for the buck's belaced and embroidered
+vestments, besides being inveigled into a donation of a guinea towards
+the Synagogue's bad debt. Manasseh thereupon dismissed the chaise with
+a handsome gratuity, and drove in state in the now-empty carriage,
+attended by the powdered footman, to Finsbury Circus, to the mansion
+of Rodriques. "I have come for my ten pounds," he said, and reminded
+him of his promise (?). Rodriques laughed, and swore, and laughed
+again, and swore that the carriage was hired, to be paid for out of
+the ten pounds.
+
+[Illustration: "DROVE IN STATE."]
+
+"Hired?" echoed Manasseh resentfully. "Do you not recognise the arms
+of my friend, Beau Belasco?" And he presently drove off with the note,
+for Rodriques had a roguish eye. And then, parting with the chariot,
+the King took his way on foot to Fenchurch Street, to the house of his
+cousin Barzillai, the ex-planter of Barbadoes, and now a West Indian
+merchant.
+
+Barzillai, fearing humiliation before his clerks, always carried his
+relative off to the neighbouring Franco's Head Tavern, and humoured
+him with costly liquors.
+
+"But you had no right to donate money you did not possess; it was
+dishonest," he cried with irrepressible ire.
+
+"Hoity toity!" said Manasseh, setting down his glass so vehemently
+that the stem shivered. "And were you not called to the Law after me?
+And did you not donate money?"
+
+"Certainly! But I _had_ the money."
+
+"What! _With_ you?"
+
+"No, no, certainly not. I do not carry money on the Sabbath."
+
+"Exactly. Neither do I."
+
+"But the money was at my bankers'."
+
+"And so it was at mine. _You_ are my bankers, you and others like you.
+You draw on your bankers--I draw on mine." And his cousin being thus
+confuted, Manasseh had not much further difficulty in wheedling two
+pounds ten out of him.
+
+"And now," said he, "I really think you ought to do something to
+lessen the Synagogue's loss."
+
+"But I have just given!" quoth Barzillai in bewilderment.
+
+"_That_ you gave to me as your cousin, to enable your relative to
+discharge his obligations. I put it strictly on a personal footing.
+But now I am pleading on behalf of the Synagogue, which stands to lose
+heavily. You are a Sephardi as well as my cousin. It is a distinction
+not unlike the one I have so often to explain to you. You owe me
+charity, not only as a cousin, but as a _Schnorrer_ likewise." And,
+having wrested another guinea from the obfuscated merchant, he
+repaired to Grobstock's business office in search of the defaulter.
+
+But the wily Grobstock, forewarned by Manasseh's promise to visit him,
+and further frightened by his Sunday morning call, had denied himself
+to the _Schnorrer_ or anyone remotely resembling him, and it was not
+till the afternoon that Manasseh ran him to earth at Sampson's
+coffee-house in Exchange Alley, where the brokers foregathered, and
+'prentices and students swaggered in to abuse the Ministers, and all
+kinds of men from bloods to barristers loitered to pick up hints to
+easy riches. Manasseh detected his quarry in the furthermost box, his
+face hidden behind a broadsheet.
+
+[Illustration: "HIS FACE HIDDEN BEHIND A BROADSHEET."]
+
+"Why do you always come to me?" muttered the East India Director
+helplessly.
+
+"Eh?" said Manasseh, mistrustful of his own ears. "I beg your pardon."
+
+"If your own community cannot support you," said Grobstock, more
+loudly, and with all the boldness of an animal driven to bay, "why not
+go to Abraham Goldsmid, or his brother Ben, or to Van Oven, or
+Oppenheim--they're all more prosperous than I."
+
+"Sir!" said Manasseh wrathfully. "You are a skilful--nay, a famous,
+financier. You know what stocks to buy, what stocks to sell, when to
+follow a rise, and when a fall. When the Premier advertises the loans,
+a thousand speculators look to you for guidance. What would you say if
+_I_ presumed to interfere in your financial affairs--if I told you to
+issue these shares or to call in those? You would tell me to mind my
+own business; and you would be perfectly right. Now _Schnorring_ is
+_my_ business. Trust me, I know best whom to come to. You stick to
+stocks and leave _Schnorring_ alone. You are the King of Financiers,
+but I am the King of _Schnorrers_."
+
+Grobstock's resentment at the rejoinder was mitigated by the
+compliment to his financial insight. To be put on the same level with
+the Beggar was indeed unexpected.
+
+"Will you have a cup of coffee?" he said.
+
+"I ought scarcely to drink with you after your reception of me,"
+replied Manasseh unappeased. "It is not even as if I came to _schnorr_
+for myself; it is to the finances of our house of worship that I
+wished to give you an opportunity of contributing."
+
+"Aha! your vaunted community hard up?" queried Joseph, with a
+complacent twinkle.
+
+"Sir! We are the richest congregation in the world. We want nothing
+from anybody," indignantly protested Manasseh, as he absent-mindedly
+took the cup of coffee which Grobstock had ordered for him. "The
+difficulty merely is that, in honour of my daughter's wedding, I have
+donated a hundred pounds to the Synagogue which I have not yet managed
+to collect, although I have already devoted a day-and-a-half of my
+valuable time to the purpose."
+
+"But why do you come to me?"
+
+"What! Do you ask me that again?"
+
+"I--I--mean," stammered Grobstock--"why should I contribute to a
+Portuguese Synagogue?"
+
+Manasseh clucked his tongue in despair of such stupidity. "It is just
+you who should contribute more than any Portuguese."
+
+"I?" Grobstock wondered if he was awake.
+
+"Yes, you. Was not the money spent in honour of the marriage of a
+German Jew? It was a splendid vindication of your community."
+
+"This is too much!" cried Grobstock, outraged and choking.
+
+"Too much to mark the admission to our fold of the first of your sect!
+I am disappointed in you, deeply disappointed. I thought you would
+have applauded my generous behaviour."
+
+"I don't care what you thought!" gasped Grobstock. He was genuinely
+exasperated at the ridiculousness of the demand, but he was also
+pleased to find himself preserving so staunch a front against the
+insidious _Schnorrer_. If he could only keep firm now, he told
+himself, he might emancipate himself for ever. Yes, he would be
+strong, and Manasseh should never dare address him again. "I won't pay
+a stiver," he roared.
+
+"If you make a scene I will withdraw," said Manasseh quietly. "Already
+there are ears and eyes turned upon you. From your language people
+will be thinking me a dun and you a bankrupt."
+
+"They can go to the devil!" thundered Grobstock, "and you too!"
+
+"Blasphemer! You counsel me to ask the devil to contribute to the
+Synagogue! I will not bandy words with you. You refuse, then, to
+contribute to this fund?"
+
+"I do, I see no reason."
+
+"Not even the five pounds I vowed on behalf of Yankelé himself--one of
+your own people?"
+
+"What! I pay in honour of Yankelé--a dirty _Schnorrer_!"
+
+"Is this the way you speak of your guests?" said Manasseh, in pained
+astonishment. "Do you forget that Yankelé has broken bread at your
+table? Perhaps this is how you talk of me when my back is turned. But,
+beware! Remember the saying of our sages, 'You and I cannot live in
+the world,' said God to the haughty man. Come, now! No more paltering
+or taking refuge in abuse. You refuse me this beggarly five pounds?"
+
+"Most decidedly."
+
+"Very well, then!"
+
+Manasseh called the attendant.
+
+"What are you about to do?" cried Grobstock apprehensively.
+
+"You shall see," said Manasseh resolutely, and when the attendant
+came, he pressed the price of his cup of coffee into his hand.
+
+Grobstock flushed in silent humiliation. Manasseh rose.
+
+Grobstock's fatal strain of weakness gave him a twinge of compunction
+at the eleventh hour.
+
+"You see for yourself how unreasonable your request was," he murmured.
+
+"Do not strive to justify yourself, I am done with you," said
+Manasseh. "I am done with you as a philanthropist. For the future you
+may besnuff and bespatter your coat as much as you please, for all the
+trouble I shall ever take. As a financier, I still respect you, and
+may yet come to you, but as a philanthropist, never."
+
+"Anything I can do--" muttered Grobstock vaguely.
+
+"Let me see!" said Manasseh, looking down upon him thoughtfully. "Ah,
+yes, an idea! I have collected over sixty pounds. If you would invest
+this for me--"
+
+"Certainly, certainly," interrupted Grobstock, with conciliatory
+eagerness.
+
+"Good! With your unrivalled knowledge of the markets, you could easily
+bring it up to the necessary sum in a day or two. Perhaps even there
+is some grand _coup_ on the _tapis_, something to be bulled or beared
+in which you have a hand."
+
+Grobstock nodded his head vaguely. He had already remembered that the
+proceeding was considerably below his dignity; he was not a
+stockbroker, never had he done anything of the kind for anyone.
+
+"But suppose I lose it all?" he asked, trying to draw back.
+
+"Impossible," said the _Schnorrer_ serenely. "Do you forget it is a
+Synagogue fund? Do you think the Almighty will suffer His money to be
+lost?"
+
+"Then why not speculate yourself?" said Grobstock craftily.
+
+"The Almighty's honour must be guarded. What! Shall He be less well
+served than an earthly monarch? Do you think I do not know your
+financial relations with the Court? The service of the Almighty
+demands the best men. I was the best man to collect the money--you are
+the best to invest it. To-morrow morning it shall be in your hands."
+
+"No, don't trouble," said Grobstock feebly. "I don't need the actual
+money to deal with."
+
+"I thank you for your trust in me," replied Manasseh with emotion.
+"Now you speak like yourself again. I withdraw what I said to you. I
+_will_ come to you again--to the philanthropist no less than
+financier. And--and I am sorry I paid for my coffee." His voice
+quivered.
+
+Grobstock was touched. He took out a sixpence and repaid his guest
+with interest. Manasseh slipped the coin into his pocket, and shortly
+afterwards, with some final admonitions to his stock-jobber, took his
+leave.
+
+Being in for the job, Grobstock resolved to make the best of it. His
+latent vanity impelled him to astonish the Beggar. It happened that he
+_was_ on the point of a magnificent manoeuvre, and alongside his own
+triton Manasseh's minnow might just as well swim. He made the sixty
+odd pounds into six hundred.
+
+A few days after the Royal Wedding, the glories of which are still a
+tradition among the degenerate _Schnorrers_ of to-day, Manasseh struck
+the Chancellor breathless by handing him a bag containing five score
+of sovereigns. Thus did he honourably fulfil his obligation to the
+Synagogue, and with more celerity than many a Warden. Nay, more!
+Justly considering the results of the speculation should accrue to the
+Synagogue, whose money had been risked, he, with Quixotic
+scrupulousness, handed over the balance of five hundred pounds to the
+Mahamad, stipulating only that it should be used to purchase a
+life-annuity (styled the Da Costa Fund) for a poor and deserving
+member of the congregation, in whose selection he, as donor, should
+have the ruling voice. The Council of Five eagerly agreed to his
+conditions, and a special junta was summoned for the election. The
+donor's choice fell upon Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa,
+thenceforward universally recognised, and hereby handed down to
+tradition, as the King of _Schnorrers_.
+
+[Illustration: "STRUCK THE CHANCELLOR BREATHLESS."]
+
+
+
+
+The Semi-Sentimental Dragon.
+
+[Illustration: The Semi-Sentimental Dragon.]
+
+
+There was nothing about the outside of the Dragon to indicate so large
+a percentage of sentiment. It was a mere every-day Dragon, with the
+usual squamous hide, glittering like silver armour, a commonplace
+crested head with a forked tongue, a tail like a barbed arrow, a pair
+of fan-shaped wings, and four indifferently ferocious claws, one per
+foot. How it came to be so susceptible you shall hear, and then,
+perhaps, you will be less surprised at its unprecedented and
+undragonlike behaviour.
+
+Once upon a time, as the good old chronicler, Richard Johnson,
+relateth, Egypt was oppressed by a Dragon who made a plaguy to-do
+unless given a virgin daily for dinner. For twenty-four years the menu
+was practicable; then the supply gave out. There was absolutely no
+virgin left in the realm save Sabra, the king's daughter. As 365 × 24
+only = 8760, I suspect that the girls were anxious to dodge the Dragon
+by marrying in haste. The government of the day seems to have been
+quite unworthy of confidence and utterly unable to grapple with the
+situation, and poor Ptolemy was reduced to parting with the Princess,
+though even so destruction was only staved off for a day, as virgins
+would be altogether "off" on the morrow. So short-sighted was the
+Egyptian policy that this does not appear to have occurred to anybody.
+At the last moment an English tourist from Coventry, known as George
+(and afterwards sainted by an outgoing administration sent to his
+native borough by the country), resolved to tackle the monster. The
+chivalrous Englishman came to grief in the encounter, but by rolling
+under an orange tree he was safe from the Dragon so long as he chose
+to stay there, and so in the end had no difficulty in despatching the
+creature; which suggests that the soothsayers and the magicians would
+have been much better occupied in planting orange trees than in
+sacrificing virgins. Thus far the story, which is improbable enough to
+be an allegory.
+
+Now many centuries after these events did not happen, a certain worthy
+citizen, an illiterate fellow, but none the worse for that, made them
+into a pantomime--to wit, _St. George and the Dragon; or, Harlequin
+Tom Thumb_. And the same was duly played at a provincial theatre, with
+a lightly clad chorus of Egyptian lasses, in glaring contradiction of
+the dearth of such in the fable, and a Sabra who sang to them a
+topical song about the County Council.
+
+Curiously enough, in private life, Sabra, although her name was Miss
+on the posters, was really a Miss. She was quite as young and pretty
+as she looked, too, and only rouged herself for the sake of stage
+perspective. I don't mean to say she was as beautiful as the Egyptian
+princess, who was as straight as a cedar and wore her auburn hair in
+wanton ringlets, but she was a sprightly little body with sparkling
+eyes and a complexion that would have been a good advertisement to any
+soap on earth. But better than Sabra's skin was Sabra's heart, which
+though as yet untouched by man was full of love and tenderness, and
+did not faint under the burden of supporting her mother and the
+household. For instead of having a king for a sire, Sabra had a
+drunken scene-shifter for a father. Everybody about the theatre liked
+Sabra, from the actor-manager (who played St. George) to the stage
+door-keeper (who played St. Peter). Even her under-study did not wish
+her ill.
+
+[Illustration: "INSTEAD OF HAVING A KING FOR A SIRE, SABRA HAD A
+DRUNKEN SCENE-SHIFTER FOR A FATHER."]
+
+Needless, therefore, to say it was Sabra who made the Dragon
+semi-sentimental. Not in the "book," of course, where his desire to
+eat her remained purely literal. Real Dragons keep themselves aloof
+from sentiment, but a stage Dragon is only human. Such a one may be
+entirely the slave of sentiment, and it was perhaps to the credit of
+our Dragon that only half of him was in the bonds. The other half--and
+that the better half--was saturnine and teetotal, and answered to the
+name of Davie Brigg.
+
+Davie was the head man on the Dragon. He played the anterior parts,
+waggled the head and flapped the wings and sent gruesome grunts and
+penny squibs through the "firebreathing" jaws. He was a dour
+middle-aged, but stagestruck, Scot, very proud of his rapid rise in
+the profession, for he had begun as a dramatist.
+
+The rear of the Dragon was simply known as Jimmy.
+
+Jimmy was a wreck. His past was a mystery. His face was a brief record
+of baleful experiences, and he had the aspirates of a gentleman. He
+had gone on the stage to be out of the snow and the rain. Not knowing
+this, the actor-manager paid him ninepence a night. His wages just
+kept him in beer-money. The original Sabra tamed two lions, but
+perhaps it was a greater feat to tame this half of a Dragon.
+
+Jimmy's tenderness for Sabra began at rehearsal, when he saw a good
+deal of her, and felicitated himself on the fact that they were on in
+the same scenes. After a while, however, he perceived this to be a
+doleful drawback, for whereas at rehearsal he could jump out of his
+skin and breathe himself and feast his eyes on Sabra when the Dragon
+was disengaged, on the stage he was forced to remain cramped in
+darkness while Ptolemy was clowning or St. George executing a step
+dance. Sabra was invisible, except for an odd moment or so between
+the scenes when he caught sight of her gliding to her dressing-room
+like a streak of discreet sunshine. Still he had his compensations;
+her dulcet notes reached his darkness (mellowed by the painted canvas
+and the tin scales sewn over it), as the chant of the unseen cuckoo
+reaches the woodland wanderer. Sometimes, when she sang that song
+about the County Council, he forgot to wag his tail.
+
+[Illustration: "SOMETIMES, WHEN SHE SANG THAT SONG ABOUT THE COUNTY
+COUNCIL, HE FORGOT TO WAG HIS TAIL."]
+
+Thus was Love blind, while Indifference in the person of Davie Brigg
+looked its full through the mask that stood for the monster's head.
+After a bit Jimmy conceived a mad envy of his superior's privileges;
+he longed to see Sabra through the Dragon's mouth. He was so weary of
+the little strip of stage under the Dragon's belly, which, even if he
+peered through the breathing-holes in the patch of paint-disguised
+gauze let into its paunch, was the most he could see. One night he
+asked Davie to change places with him. Davie's look of surprise and
+consternation was beautiful to see.
+
+"Do I hear aricht?" he asked.
+
+"Just for a night," said Jimmy, abashed.
+
+"But d'ye no ken this is a speakin' part?"
+
+[Illustration: "'BUT D'YE NO KEN THIS A SPEAKIN' PART?'"]
+
+"I did--not--know--that," faltered Jimmy.
+
+"Where's your ears, mon?" inquired Davie sternly. "Dinna ye hear me
+growlin' and grizzlin' and squealin' and skirlin'?"
+
+"Y--e--s," said Jimmy. "But I thought you did it at random."
+
+"Thocht I did it at random!" cried Davie, holding up his hands in
+horror. "And mebbe also ye thocht onybody could do't!"
+
+Jimmy's shamed silence gave consent also to this unflinching
+interpretation of his thought.
+
+"Ah weel!" said Davie, with melancholy resignation, "this is the
+artist's reward for his sweat and labour. Why, mon, let me tell ye,
+ilka note is not ainly timed but modulatit to the dramatic eenterest
+o' the moment, and that I hae practised the squeak hours at a time wi'
+a bagpiper. Tak' my place, indeed! Are ye fou again, or hae ye tint
+your senses?"
+
+"But you could do the words all the same. I only want to see for
+once."
+
+"And how d'ye think the words should sound, coming from the creature's
+belly? And what should ye see! You should nae ken where to go, I
+warrant. Come, I'll spier ye. Where d'ye come in for the fight with
+St. George--is it R 2 E or L U E?"
+
+"L U E," replied Jimmy feebly.
+
+"Ye donnered auld runt!" cried Davie triumphantly. "'Tis neither one
+nor t'other. 'Tis R C. Why, ye're capable of deein' up stage instead
+of down! Ye'd spoil my great scene. And ye are to remember I wad bear
+the wyte for 't, for naebody but our two sel's should ken the truth.
+Nay, nay, my mon. I hae my responsibeelities to the management. Ye're
+all verra weel in a subordinate position, but dinna ye aspire to more
+than beseems your abeelities. I am richt glad ye spoke me. Eh, but it
+would be an awfu' thing if I was taken bad and naebody to play the
+part. I'll warn the manager to put on an under-study betimes."
+
+"Oh, but let _me_ be the under-study, then," pleaded Jimmy.
+
+Davie sniffed scornfully.
+
+"'Tis a braw thing, ambeetion," he said, "but there's a proverb about
+it ye ken, mebbe."
+
+"But I'll notice everything you do, and exactly how you do it!"
+
+Davie relented a little.
+
+"Ah, weel," he said cautiously, "I'll bide a wee before speaking to
+the manager."
+
+But Davie remained doggedly robust, and so Jimmy still walked in
+darkness. He often argued the matter out with his superior,
+maintaining that they ought to toss for the position--head or tail.
+Failing to convince Davie, he offered him fourpence a night for the
+accommodation, but Davie saw in this extravagance evidence of a
+determined design to supplant him. In despair Jimmy watched for a
+chance of slipping into the wire framework before Davie, but the
+conscientious artist was always at his post first. They held dialogues
+on the subject, while with pantomimic license the chorus of Egyptian
+lasses was dancing round the Dragon as if it were a maypole. Their
+angry messages to each other vibrated along the wires of their
+prison-house, rending the Dragon with intestinal war. Weave your
+cloud-wrought Utopias, O social reformer, but wherever men inhabit,
+there jealousy and disunion shall creep in, and this gaudy canvas tent
+with its tin roofing was a hotbed of envy, hatred, and all
+uncharitableness. Yet Love was there, too--a stranger, purer passion
+than the battered Jimmy had ever known; for it had the unselfishness
+of a love that can never be more than a dream, that the beloved can
+never even know of. Perhaps, if Jimmy had met Sabra before he left off
+being a gentleman--!
+
+The silent, hopeless longing, the chivalrous devotion yearning dumbly
+within him, did not stop his beer; he drank more to drown his
+thoughts. Every night he entered into his part gladly, knowing himself
+elevated in the zoological scale, not degraded, by an assumption that
+made him only half a beast. It was kind of Providence to hide him
+wholly away from her vision, so that her bright eyes might not be
+sullied by the sight of his foulness. None of the grinning audience
+suspected the tragedy of the hind legs of the Dragon, as blindly
+following their leader, they went "galumphing" about the stage. The
+innocent children marvelled at the monster, in wide-eyed excitement,
+unsuspecting even its humanity, much less its double nature; only
+Davie knew that in that Dragon there were the ruins of a man and the
+makings of a great actor!
+
+"Why are ye sae anxious to stand in my shoon?" he would ask, when the
+hind legs became too obstreperous.
+
+"I don't want to be in your shoes; I only want to see the stage for
+once."
+
+But Davie would shake his head incredulously, making the Dragon's mask
+wobble at the wrong cues. At last, once when Sabra was singing, poor
+Jimmy, driven to extremities, confessed the truth, and had the
+mortification of feeling the wires vibrate with the Scotchman's silent
+laughter. He blushed unseen.
+
+But it transpired that Davie's amusement was not so much scornful as
+sceptical. He still suspected the tail of a sinister intention to wag
+the Dragon.
+
+"Nae, nae," he said, "ye shallna get me to swallow that. Ye're an unco
+puir creature, but ye're no sa daft as to want the moon. She's a
+bonnie lassie, and I willna be surprised if she catches a coronet in
+the end, when she makes a name in Lunnon; for the swells here, though
+I see a wheen foolish faces nicht after nicht in the stalls, are but a
+puir lot. Eh, but it's a gey grand tocher is a pretty face. In the
+meanwhiles, like a canny girl, she's settin' her cap at the chief."
+
+"Hold your tongue!" hissed the hind legs. "She's as pure as an angel."
+
+"Hoot-toot!" answered the head. "Dinna leebel the angels. It's no an
+angel that lets her manager give her sly squeezes and saft kisses that
+are nae in the stage directions."
+
+"Then she can't know he's a married man," said the hind legs hoarsely.
+
+"Dinna fash yoursel'--she kens that full weel and a thocht or two
+more. Dod! Ye should just see how she and St. George carry on after my
+death scene, when he's supposit to ha' rescued her and they fall
+a-cuddlin'."
+
+"You're a liar!" said the hind legs.
+
+Davie roared and breathed burning squibs and capered about, and Jimmy
+had to prance after him in involuntary pursuit. He felt choking in his
+stuffy hot black rollicking dungeon. The thought of this bloated
+sexagenarian faked up as a _jeune premier_, pawing that sweet little
+girl, sickened him.
+
+"Dom'd leear yersel!" resumed Davie, coming to a standstill. "I maun
+believe my own eyes, what they tell me nicht after nicht."
+
+"Then let me see for myself, and I'll believe you."
+
+"Ye dinna catch me like that," said Davie, chuckling.
+
+After that poor Jimmy's anxiety to see the stage became feverish. He
+even meditated malingering and going in front of the house, but could
+only have got a distant view, and at the risk of losing his place in
+an overcrowded profession. His opportunity came at length, but not
+till the pantomime was half run out and the actor-manager sought to
+galvanise it by a "second edition," which in sum meant a new lot of
+the variety entertainers who came on and played copophones before
+Ptolemy, did card-tricks in the desert, and exhibited trained poodles
+to the palm-trees. But Davie, determined to rise to the occasion,
+thought out a fresh conception of his part, involving three new
+grunts, and was so busy rehearsing them at home that he forgot the
+flight of the hours and arrived at the theatre only in time to take
+second place in the Dragon that was just waiting, half-manned, at the
+wing. He was so flustered that he did not even think of protesting for
+the first few minutes. When he did protest, Jimmy said, "What are you
+jawing about? This is a second edition, isn't it?" and caracoled
+around, dragging the unhappy Davie in his train.
+
+"I'll tell the chief," groaned the hind legs.
+
+"All right, let him know you were late," answered the head cheerfully.
+
+"Eh, but it's pit-mirk, here. I canna see onything."
+
+"You see I'm no liar. Shall I send a squib your way?"
+
+"Nay, nay, nae larking. Mind the business or you'll ruin my
+reputation."
+
+"Mind my business, I'll mind yours," replied Jimmy joyously, for the
+lovely Sabra was smiling right in his eyes. A Dragon divided against
+itself cannot stand, so Davie had to wait till the beast came off. To
+his horror Jimmy refused to budge from his shell. He begged for just
+one "keek" at the stage, but Jimmy replied: "You don't catch me like
+that." Davie said little more, but he matured a crafty plan, and in
+the next scene he whispered:--
+
+"Jimmy!"
+
+"Shut up, Davie; I'm busy."
+
+"I've got a pin, and if ye shallna promise to restore me my richts
+after the next exit, ye shall feel the taste of it."
+
+"You'll just stay where you are," came back the peremptory reply.
+
+Deep went the pin in Jimmy's rear, and the Dragon gave such a howl
+that Davie's blood ran cold. Too late he remembered that it was not
+the Dragon's cue, and that he was making havoc of his own professional
+reputation. Through the canvas he felt the stern gaze of the
+actor-manager. He thought of pricking Jimmy only at the howling cues,
+but then the howl thus produced was so superior to his own, that if
+Jimmy chose to claim it, he might be at once engaged to replace him in
+the part. What a dilemma!
+
+Poor Davie! As if it was not enough to be cut off from all the
+brilliant spectacle, pent in pitchy gloom and robbed of all his "fat"
+and his painfully rehearsed "second edition" touches. He felt like one
+of those fallen archangels of the footlights who live to bear
+Ophelia's bier on boards where they once played Hamlet.
+
+Far different emotions were felt at the Dragon's head, where Jimmy's
+joy faded gradually away, replaced by a passion of indignation, as
+with love-sharpened eyes he ascertained for himself the true relations
+of the actor-manager with his "principal girl." He saw from his coign
+of vantage the poor modest little thing shrinking before the cowardly
+advances of her employer, who took every possible advantage of the
+stage potentialities, in ways the audience could not discriminate from
+the acting. Alas! what could the gentle little bread-winner do? But
+Jimmy's blood was boiling. Davie's great scene arrived: the battle
+royal between St. George and the Dragon. Sabra, bewitchingly radiant
+in white Arabian silk, stood under the orange-tree where the pendent
+fruit was labelled three a penny. Here St. George, in knightly armour
+clad, retired between the rounds, to be sponged by the fair Sabra,
+from whose lips he took the opportunity of drinking encouragement.
+When the umpire cried "Time!" Jimmy uttered inarticulate cries of real
+rage and malediction, vomiting his squibs straight at the champion's
+eyes with intent to do him grievous bodily injury. But squibs have
+their own ways of jumping, and the actor-manager's face was protected
+by his glittering burgonet.
+
+At last Jimmy and Davie were duly despatched by St. George's trusty
+sword, Ascalon, which passed right between them and stuck out on the
+other side amid the frantic applause of the house. The Dragon reeled
+cumbrously sideways and bit the dust, of which there was plenty. Then
+Sabra rushed forward from under the orange-tree and encircled her
+hero's hauberk with a stage embrace, while St. George, lifting up his
+visor, rained kiss after kiss on Sabra's scarlet face, and the "gods"
+went hoarse with joy.
+
+"Oh, sir!" Jimmy heard the still small voice of the bread-winner
+protest feebly again and again amid the thunder, as she tried to
+withdraw herself from her employer's grasp. This was the last straw.
+Anger and the foul air of his prison wrought up Jimmy to asphyxiation
+point. What wonder if the Dragon lost his head completely?
+
+Davie will never forget the horror of that moment when he felt himself
+dragged upwards as by an irresistible tornado, and knew himself for a
+ruined actor. Mechanically he essayed to cling to the ground, but in
+vain. The dead Dragon was on its feet in a moment; in another, Jimmy
+had thrown off the mask, showing a shock of hair and a blotched
+crimson face, spotted with great beads of perspiration. Unconscious of
+this culminating outrage, Davie made desperate prods with his pin, but
+Jimmy was equally unconscious of the pricks. The thunder died
+abruptly. A dead silence fell upon the whole house--you could have
+heard Davie's pin drop. St. George, in amazed consternation, released
+his hold of Sabra and cowered back before the wild glare of the
+bloodshot eyes. "How dare you?" rang out in hoarse screaming accents
+from the protruding head, and with one terrific blow of its right
+fore-leg the hybrid monster felled Sabra's insulter to the ground.
+
+The astonished St. George lay on his back, staring up vacantly at the
+flies.
+
+"I'll teach you how to behave to a lady!" roared the Dragon.
+
+Then Davie tugged him frantically backwards, but Jimmy cavorted
+obstinately in the centre of the stage, which the actor-manager had
+taken even in his fall, so that the Dragon's hind legs trampled
+blindly on Davie's prostrate chief, amid the hysterical convulsions of
+the house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next morning the local papers were loud in their praises of the
+"Second Edition" of _St. George and the Dragon_, especially of the
+"genuinely burlesque and topsy-turvy episode in which the Dragon rises
+from the dead to read St. George a lesson in chivalry; a really
+side-splitting conception, made funnier by the grotesque revelation of
+the constituents of the Dragon, just before it retires for the night."
+
+The actor-manager had no option but to adopt this reading, so had to
+be hoofed and publicly reprimanded every evening during the rest of
+the season, glad enough to get off so cheaply.
+
+Of course, Jimmy was dismissed, but St. George was painfully polite to
+Sabra ever after, not knowing but what Jimmy was in the gallery with a
+brickbat, and perhaps not unimpressed by the lesson in chivalry he was
+receiving every evening.
+
+Perhaps you think the Dragon deserved to marry Sabra, but that would
+be really too topsy-turvy, and the sentimental beast himself was quite
+satisfied to have rescued her from St. George.
+
+But the person who profited most by Jimmy's sacrifice was Davie, who
+stepped into a real speaking part, emerged from the obscurity of his
+surroundings, burst his swaddling clothes, and made his appearance on
+the stage--a thing he could scarcely be said to have done in the
+Dragon's womb.
+
+And so the world wags.
+
+
+
+
+_An Honest Log-Roller._
+
+
+Louis Maunders was writing an anonymous novel, and a large circle of
+friends and acquaintances expected it to make a big hit. Louis
+Maunders was so modest that he distrusted his own opinion, and was
+glad to find his friends sharing it in this matter. It strengthened
+him. He carried the manuscript unostentatiously about in a long brief
+bag, while the book was writing, and worked at it during all his spare
+moments. Even in omnibuses he was to be seen scribbling hard with a
+stylus, and neglecting to attend to the conductor. The plot of the
+story was sad and heartrending, for Louis was only twenty-one. Louis
+refused to give those roseate pictures of life which the conventional
+novelist turns out to please the public. He objected to "happy
+endings." In real life, he said, no story ends happily; for the end of
+everybody's story is Death. In this book he said some bitter things
+about Life which it would have winced to hear, had it been alive. As
+for Death, he doubted whether it was worth dying. Towards Nature he
+took a tone of haughty superiority, and expressed himself
+disrespectfully on the subject of Fate. He mocked at it through the
+lips of his hero, and altogether seemed qualifying for the liver
+complaint, which is the Prometheus myth done into modern English. He
+taught that the only Peace for man lies in snapping the fingers at
+Fortune, taking her buffets and her favours with equal contempt, and
+generally teaching her to know her place. The soul of the
+Philosopher, he said, would stand grinning cynically though the
+planetary system were sold off by auction. These lessons were taught
+with great tragic power in Maunders' novel, and he was looking forward
+to the time when it should be in print, and on all the carpets of
+conversation. He was extremely gratified to find his friends thinking
+so well of its prospects, for it was pleasing to him to discover that
+he had chosen his circle so well, and had such intelligent friends. It
+did not seem to him at all unlikely that he would make his fortune
+with this novel; and he hurried on with it, till the masterpiece
+needed only a few final touches and a few last insults to Fate. Then
+he left the bag in a hansom cab. When he remembered his forgetfulness,
+he was distracted. He raved like a maniac--and like a maniac did not
+even write his ravings down for after use. He applied at Scotland
+Yard, but the superintendent said that drivers brought there only
+articles of value. He sent paragraphs to the papers, asking even of
+the _Echo_ where his lost novel was. But the _Echo_ answered not.
+Several spiteful papers insinuated that he was a liar, and a
+high-class comic paper went out of its way to make a joke, and to call
+his book "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab." The annoying part of the
+business was that after getting all this gratuitous advertisement, in
+itself enough to sell two editions, the book still refused to come up
+for publication. Maunders was too heart-broken to write another. For
+months he went about, a changed being. He had put the whole of himself
+into that book, and it was lost. He mourned for the departed
+manuscript, and generously extolled its virtues. For years he remained
+faithful to its memory; and its pages were made less dry with his
+tears. But the most intemperate grief wears itself out at last; and
+after a few years of melancholy, Maunders rallied and became a
+critic.
+
+[Illustration: THE GREAT CRITIC.]
+
+As a critic he set in with great severity, and by carefully refraining
+from doing anything himself, gained a great reputation far and wide.
+In due course he joined the staff of the _Acadæum_, where his signed
+contributions came to be looked for with profound respect by the
+public and with fear and trembling by authors. For Maunders' criticism
+was so very superior, even for the _Acadæum_, of which the trade motto
+was "Stop here for Criticism--superior to anything in the literary
+market." Maunders flayed and excoriated Marsyas till the world
+accepted him as Apollo.
+
+What Maunders was most down upon was novel-writing. Not having to
+follow them himself, he had high ideals of art; and woe to the
+unfortunate author who thought he had literary and artistic instinct
+when he had only pen and paper. Maunders was especially severe upon
+the novels of young authors, with their affected style and jejune
+ideas. Perhaps the most brilliant criticism he ever wrote was a
+merciless dissection of a book of this sort, reeking with the
+insincerity and crudity of youth, full of accumulated ignorance of
+life, and brazening it out by flashy cynicism.
+
+A week after this notice appeared, his oldest and dearest friend
+called upon him and asked him for an explanation.
+
+"What do you mean?" said Maunders.
+
+"When I read your slashing notice of 'A Fingersnap for Fate,' I at
+once got the book."
+
+"What! After I had disembowelled it; after I had shown it was a stale
+sausage stuffed with old and putrid ideas?"
+
+"Well, to tell the truth," said his friend, a little crestfallen at
+having to confess, "I always get the books you pitch into. So do lots
+of people. We are only plain, ordinary, homespun people, you know; so
+we feel sure that whatever you praise will be too superior for us,
+while what you condemn will suit us to a _t_. That is why the great
+public studies and respects your criticisms. You are our literary
+pastor and monitor. Your condemnation is our guide-post, and your
+praise is our _Index Expurgatorius_. But for you we should be lost in
+the wilderness of new books."
+
+"And this is all the result of my years of laborious criticism," fumed
+the _Acadæum_ critic. "Proceed, sir."
+
+"Well, what I came to say was, that if my memory does not play me a
+trick after all these years, 'A Fingersnap for Fate' is your long-lost
+novel."
+
+"What!" shrieked the great critic; "my long-lost child! Impossible."
+
+"Yes," persisted his oldest and dearest friend. "I recognised it by
+the strawberry mark in Cap. II., where the hero compares the younger
+generation to fresh strawberries smothered in stale cream. I remember
+your reading it to me!"
+
+"Heavens! The whole thing comes back to me," cried the critic. "Now I
+know why I damned it so unmercifully for plagiarism! All the while I
+was reading it, there was a strange, haunting sense of familiarity."
+
+"But, surely you will expose the thief!"
+
+"How can I? It would mean confessing that I wrote the book myself.
+That I slated it savagely, is nothing. That will pass as a good joke,
+if not a piece of rare modesty. But confess myself the author of such
+a wretched failure!"
+
+"Excuse me," said his friend. "It is not a failure. It is a very
+popular success. It is selling like wildfire. Excuse the inaccurate
+simile; but you know what I mean. Your notice has sent the sale up
+tremendously. Ever since your notice appeared, the printing presses
+have been going day and night and are utterly unable to cope with the
+demand. Oh, you must not let a rogue make a fortune out of you like
+this. That would be too sinful."
+
+So the great critic sought out the thief. And they divided the
+profits. And then the thief, who was a fool as well as a rogue, wrote
+another book--all out of his own head this time. And the critic slated
+it. And they divided the profits.
+
+
+
+
+_A Tragi-Comedy of Creeds._
+
+
+Not much before midnight in a midland town--a thriving commercial
+town, whose dingy back streets swarmed with poverty and piety--a man
+in a soft felt hat and a white tie was hurrying home over a bridge
+that spanned a dark crowded river. He had missed the tram, and did not
+care to be seen out late, but he could not afford a cab. Suddenly he
+felt a tug at his long black coat-tail. Vaguely alarmed and definitely
+annoyed, he turned round quickly. A breathless, roughly-clad,
+rugged-featured man loosed his hold of the skirt.
+
+"'Scuse me, sir--I've been running," gasped the stranger, placing his
+horny hand on his breast and panting.
+
+"What is it? What do you want?" said the gentleman impatiently.
+
+"My wife's dying," jerked the man.
+
+"I'm very sorry," murmured the gentleman incredulously, expecting some
+conventional street-plea.
+
+"Awful sudden attack--this last of hers--only came on an hour ago."
+
+"I'm not a doctor."
+
+"No, sir, I know. I don't want a doctor. He's there and only gives her
+ten minutes to live. Come with me at once, please."
+
+"Come with you? Why, what good can I do?"
+
+"You're a clergyman!"
+
+"A clergyman!" repeated the other.
+
+"Yes--aren't you?"
+
+The wearer of the white tie looked embarrassed.
+
+"Ye-es," he stammered. "In a--in a way. But I'm not the sort of
+clergyman your wife will be wanting."
+
+"No?" said the man, puzzled and pained. Then with a sudden dread in
+his voice: "You're not a Catholic clergyman?"
+
+"No," was the unhesitating reply.
+
+"Oh, then it's all right!" cried the man, relieved. "Come with me,
+sir, for God's sake. Don't let us waste time." His face was lit up
+with anxious appeal.
+
+But still the clergyman hesitated.
+
+"You're making a mistake," he murmured. "I am not a Christian
+clergyman." He turned to resume his walk.
+
+"Not a Christian clergyman!" exclaimed the man, as who should say "not
+a black negro!"
+
+"No--I am a Jewish minister."
+
+"That don't matter," broke in the man, almost before he could finish
+the sentence. "As long as you're not a Catholic. Oh, don't go away
+now, sir!" His voice broke piteously. "Don't go away after I've been
+chasing you for five minutes--I saw your rig-out--I beg pardon, your
+coat and hat--in the distance just as I came out of the house. Walk
+back with me, anyhow," he pleaded, seeing the Jew's hesitation, "Oh!
+for pity's sake, walk back with me at once and we can discuss it as we
+go along. I know I should never get hold of another parson in time at
+this hour of the night."
+
+The man's accents were so poignant, his anxiety was so apparently
+sincere, that the minister's humanity could scarcely resist the
+solicitation to walk back at least. He would still have time to decide
+whether to enter the house or not--whether the case were genuine or a
+mere trap concealing robbery or worse. The man took a short cut
+through evil-looking slums that did not increase the minister's
+confidence. He wondered what his flock would think if they saw their
+pastor in such company. He was a young unmarried minister, and the
+reputation of such in provincial Jewish congregations, overflowing
+with religion and tittle-tattle, is as a pretty unprotected orphan
+girl's.
+
+"Why don't you go to your own clergyman?" he asked.
+
+"I've got none," said the man half-apologetically. "I don't believe in
+nothing myself. But you know what women are!"
+
+The minister sniffed, but did not deny the weakness of the sex.
+
+"Betsy goes to some place or other every Sunday almost; sometimes
+she's there and back from a service before I'm up, and so long as the
+breakfast's ready I don't mind. I don't ask her no questions, and in
+return she don't bother about my soul--leastways, not for these ten
+years, ever since she's had kids to convert. We get along all right,
+the missus and me and the kids. Oh, but it's all come to an end now,"
+he concluded, with a sob.
+
+"Yes, but my good fellow," protested the minister, "I told you you
+were making a mistake. You know nothing about religion; but what your
+wife wants is some one to talk to her of Jesus, or to give her the
+Sacrament, or the Confession, or something, for I confess I'm not very
+clear about the forms of Christianity; and I haven't got any wafers or
+things of that sort. No, I couldn't do it, even if I had a mind to. It
+would ruin my position if it were known. But apart from that, I really
+can't do it. I wouldn't know what to say, and I couldn't bring my
+tongue to say it if I did."
+
+"Oh, but you believe in _something_?" persisted the man piteously.
+
+"H'm! Yes, I can't deny that," said the minister; "but it's not the
+same something that your wife believes in."
+
+"You believe in a God, don't you?"
+
+The minister felt a bit chagrined at being catechised in the elements
+of his religion.
+
+"Of course!" he said fretfully.
+
+"There! I knew it," cried the man in triumph. "None of us do in our
+shop; but, of course, clergymen are different. But if you believe in a
+God, that's enough, ain't it? You're both religious folk."
+
+"No, it isn't enough--at least, not for your wife."
+
+"Oh, well, you needn't let out, sir, need you? So long as you talk of
+God and keep clear of the Pope. I've heard her going on about a
+Scarlet Woman to the kids. (God bless their little hearts! I wonder
+what they'll do without her!) She'll never know, sir, and she'll die
+happy. I've done my duty. She whispered I wasn't to bring a Roman
+Catholic, poor thing. I fancy I heard her say once they're even worse
+than Jews. Oh, I don't mean that, sir. You're sure you're not a Roman
+Catholic?" he concluded anxiously.
+
+"Quite sure."
+
+"Well, sir, you'll keep the rest dark, won't you? There's no call to
+let out you don't believe the same other things as her."
+
+"I shall tell no lie," said the minister firmly. "You have called me
+in to give consolation to your dying wife, and I shall do my duty as
+best I can. Is this the house?"
+
+"Yes, sir--right at the top."
+
+The minister conquered a last impulse of mistrust, and looked round
+cautiously to be sure he was unobserved. Charity was not a strong
+point with his flock, and certainly his proceedings were suspicious.
+Even if they learnt the truth, he was not at all sure they would not
+consider his praying with a dying Christian akin to blasphemy. On the
+whole he must be credited with some courage in mounting that black,
+ill-smelling, interminable staircase. He found himself in a gloomy
+garret at last, lighted by an oil-lamp. A haggard woman lay with shut
+eyes on an iron bed, her chilling hands clasping the hands of the
+"converted" kids, a boy of ten and a girl of seven, who stood
+blubbering in their night-attire. The doctor leaned against the head
+of the bed, the ungainly shadows of the group sprawling across the
+blank wall. He had done all he could--without hope of payment--to ease
+the poor woman's last moments. He was a big-brained, large-hearted
+Irishman, a Roman Catholic, who thought science and religion might be
+the best of friends. The husband looked at him in frantic
+interrogation.
+
+"You are not too late," replied the doctor.
+
+"Thank God!" said the atheist. "Betsy, old girl, here is the
+clergyman."
+
+The cloud seemed to pass off the blind face, and a wave of wan
+sunlight to traverse it; slowly the eyes opened, the hands withdrew
+themselves from the children's grasp, and the palms met for prayer.
+
+"Christ Jesus--" began the lips mechanically.
+
+The minister was hot with confusion and a-quiver with emotion. He knew
+not what to say, as automatically he drew out a Hebrew prayer-book
+from his pocket and began reading the Deathbed Confession in the
+English version that appeared on the alternate pages.
+
+"I acknowledge unto Thee, O Lord, my God, and the God of my fathers,
+that both my cure and my death are in Thy hands...." As he read, the
+dying lips moved, mumbling the words after him. How often had those
+white lips prayed that the stiff-necked Jews might find grace and be
+saved from damnation; how often had those poor, rough hands put
+pennies into conversionist collecting-boxes after toiling hard to
+scrape them together; so that only she might suffer by their diversion
+from the household treasury.
+
+The prayer went on, the mournful monotone thrilling through the hot,
+dim, oil-reeking attic, and awing the weeping children into silence.
+The atheist stood by reverently, torn by conflicting emotions; glad
+the poor foolish creature had her wish, and on thorns lest she should
+live long enough to discover the deception. There was no room in his
+overcharged heart for personal grief just then. "Make known to me the
+path of life; in Thy presence is fulness of joy; at Thy right hand are
+pleasures for evermore." An ecstatic look overspread the plain,
+careworn face, she stretched out her arms as if to embrace some unseen
+vision.
+
+"Yes, I am coming ... Jesus," she murmured. Then her hands dropped
+heavily upon her breast; the face grew rigid, the eyes closed.
+Involuntarily the minister seized the hand nearest him. He felt it
+respond faintly to his clasp in unconsciousness of the pagan pollution
+of his touch. He read on, "Thou who art the Father of the fatherless
+and the Judge of the widow, protect my beloved kindred with whose soul
+my own is knit."
+
+The lips still echoed him almost imperceptibly, the departing spirit
+lulled into peace by the prayer of the unbeliever. "Into Thy hand I
+commend my spirit. Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth. Amen
+and Amen."
+
+And in that last Amen, with a final gleam of blessedness flitting
+across her sightless face, the poor Christian toiler breathed out her
+life of pain, holding the Jew's hand. There was a moment of solemn
+silence, the three men becoming as the little children in the presence
+of the eternal mystery.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It leaked out, as everything did in that gossipy town, and among that
+gossipy Jewish congregation. To the minister's relief, his flock took
+it better than he expected.
+
+"What a blessed privilege for that heathen female!" was all their
+comment.
+
+
+
+
+_The Memory Clearing House._
+
+
+When I moved into better quarters on the strength of the success of my
+first novel, I little dreamt that I was about to be the innocent
+instrument of a new epoch in telepathy. My poor Geraldine--but I must
+be calm; it would be madness to let them suspect I am insane. No,
+these last words must be final. I cannot afford to have them
+discredited. I cannot afford any luxuries now.
+
+Would to Heaven I had never written that first novel! Then I might
+still have been a poor, unhappy, struggling, realistic novelist; I
+might still have been residing at 109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby
+Road, St. Pancras. But I do not blame Providence. I knew the book was
+conventional even before it succeeded. My only consolation is that
+Geraldine was part-author of my misfortunes, if not of my novel. She
+it was who urged me to abandon my high ideals, to marry her, and live
+happily ever afterwards. She said if I wrote only one bad book it
+would be enough to establish my reputation; that I could then command
+my own terms for the good ones. I fell in with her proposal, the banns
+were published, and we were bound together. I wrote a rose-tinted
+romance, which no circulating library could be without, instead of the
+veracious picture of life I longed to paint; and I moved from 109,
+Little Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras, to 22, Albert
+Flats, Victoria Square, Westminster.
+
+[Illustration: "URGED ME TO ABANDON MY HIGH IDEALS."]
+
+A few days after we had sent out the cards, I met my friend
+O'Donovan, late member for Blackthorn. He was an Irishman by birth and
+profession, but the recent General Election had thrown him out of
+work. The promise of his boyhood and of his successful career at
+Trinity College was great, but in later years he began to manifest
+grave symptoms of genius. I have heard whispers that it was in the
+family, though he kept it from his wife. Possibly I ought not to have
+sent him a card and have taken the opportunity of dropping his
+acquaintance. But Geraldine argued that he was not dangerous, and that
+we ought to be kind to him just after he had come out of Parliament.
+
+O'Donovan was in a rage.
+
+[Illustration: "O'DONOVAN WAS IN A RAGE."]
+
+"I never thought it of you!" he said angrily, when I asked him how he
+was. He had a good Irish accent, but he only used it when addressing
+his constituents.
+
+"Never thought what?" I enquired in amazement.
+
+"That you would treat your friends so shabbily."
+
+"Wh-what, didn't you g-get a card?" I stammered. "I'm sure the wife--"
+
+"Don't be a fool!" he interrupted. "Of course I got a card. That's
+what I complain of."
+
+I stared at him blankly. The social experiences resulting from my
+marriage had convinced me that it was impossible to avoid giving
+offence. I had no reason to be surprised, but I was.
+
+"What right have you to move and put all your friends to trouble?" he
+enquired savagely.
+
+"I have put myself to trouble," I said, "but I fail to see how I have
+taxed _your_ friendship."
+
+"No, of course not," he growled. "I didn't expect you to see. You're
+just as inconsiderate as everybody else. Don't you think I had enough
+trouble to commit to memory '109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby
+Road, St. Pancras,' without being unexpectedly set to study '21,
+Victoria Flats--?'"
+
+"22, Albert Flats," I interrupted mildly.
+
+"There you are!" he snarled. "You see already how it harasses my poor
+brain. I shall never remember it."
+
+"Oh yes, you will," I said deprecatingly. "It is much easier than the
+old address. Listen here! '22, Albert Flats, Victoria Square,
+Westminster.' 22--a symmetrical number, the first double even number;
+the first is two, the second is two, too, and the whole is two, two,
+too--quite æsthetical, you know. Then all the rest is royal--Albert,
+Albert the Good, see. Victoria--the Queen. Westminster--Westminster
+Palace. And the other words--geometrical terms, Flat, Square. Why,
+there never was such an easy address since the days of Adam before he
+moved out of Eden," I concluded enthusiastically.
+
+[Illustration: "'THERE NEVER WAS SUCH AN EASY ADDRESS.'"]
+
+"It's easy enough for you, no doubt," he said, unappeased. "But do you
+think you're the only acquaintance who's not contented with his street
+and number? Bless my soul, with a large circle like mine, I find
+myself charged with a new schoolboy task twice a month. I shall have
+to migrate to a village where people have more stability of character.
+Heavens! Why have snails been privileged with a domiciliary constancy
+denied to human beings?"
+
+"But you ought to be grateful," I urged feebly. "Think of 22, Albert
+Flats, Victoria Square, Westminster, and then think of what I might
+have moved to. If I have given you an imposition, at least admit it is
+a light one."
+
+"It isn't so much the new address I complain of, it's the old. Just
+imagine what a weary grind it has been to master--'109, Little Turncot
+Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras.' For the last eighteen months I
+have been grappling with it, and now, just as I am letter perfect and
+postcard secure, behold all my labour destroyed, all my pains made
+ridiculous. It's the waste that vexes me. Here is a piece of
+information, slowly and laboriously acquired, yet absolutely useless.
+Nay, worse than useless; a positive hindrance. For I am just as slow
+at forgetting as at picking up. Whenever I want to think of your
+address, up it will spring, '109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby
+Road, St. Pancras.' It cannot be scotched--it must lie there blocking
+up my brains, a heavy, uncouth mass, always ready to spring at the
+wrong moment; a possession of no value to anyone but the owner, and
+not the least use to _him_."
+
+He paused, brooding on the thought in moody silence. Suddenly his face
+changed.
+
+"But isn't it of value to anybody _but_ the owner?" he exclaimed
+excitedly. "Are there not persons in the world who would jump at the
+chance of acquiring it? Don't stare at me as if I was a comet. Look
+here! Suppose some one had come to me eighteen months ago and said,
+'Patrick, old man, I have a memory I don't want. It's 109, Little
+Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras! You're welcome to it, if
+it's any use to you.' Don't you think I would have fallen on that
+man's--or woman's--neck, and watered it with my tears? Just think what
+a saving of brain-force it would have been to me--how many petty
+vexations it would have spared me! See here, then! Is your last place
+let?"
+
+"Yes," I said. "A Mr. Marrow has it now."
+
+"Ha!" he said, with satisfaction. "Now there must be lots of Mr.
+Marrow's friends in the same predicament as I was--people whose
+brains are softening in the effort to accommodate '109, Little Turncot
+Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras.' Psychical science has made such
+great strides in this age that with a little ingenuity it should
+surely not be impossible to transfer the memory of it from my brain to
+theirs."
+
+[Illustration: "'PEOPLE WHOSE BRAINS ARE SOFTENING.'"]
+
+"But," I gasped, "even if it was possible, why should you give away
+what you don't want? That would be charity."
+
+"You do not suspect me of that?" he cried reproachfully. "No, my ideas
+are not so primitive. For don't you see that there is a memory _I_
+want--'33, Royal Flats--'"
+
+"22, Albert Flats," I murmured shame-facedly.
+
+"22, Albert Flats," he repeated witheringly. "You see how badly I want
+it. Well, what I propose is to exchange my memory of '109, Little
+Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras'" (he always rolled it
+slowly on his tongue with morbid self-torture and almost intolerable
+reproachfulness), "for the memory of '22, Albert Square.'"
+
+"But you forget," I said, though I lacked the courage to correct him
+again, "that the people who want '109, Little Turncot Street,' are not
+the people who possess '22, Albert Flats.'"
+
+"Precisely; the principle of direct exchange is not feasible. What is
+wanted, therefore, is a Memory Clearing House. If I can only discover
+the process of thought-transference, I will establish one, so as to
+bring the right parties into communication. Everybody who has old
+memories to dispose of will send me in particulars. At the end of each
+week I will publish a catalogue of the memories in the market, and
+circulate it among my subscribers, who will pay, say, a guinea a year.
+When the subscriber reads his catalogue and lights upon any memory he
+would like to have, he will send me a postcard, and I will then bring
+him into communication with the proprietor, taking, of course, a
+commission upon the transaction. Doubtless, in time, there will be a
+supplementary catalogue devoted to 'Wants,' which may induce people to
+scour their brains for half-forgotten reminiscences, or persuade them
+to give up memories they would never have parted with otherwise. Well,
+my boy, what do you think of it?"
+
+[Illustration: "'THE SUBSCRIBER READS HIS CATALOGUE.'"]
+
+"It opens up endless perspectives," I said, half-dazed.
+
+"It will be the greatest invention ever known!" he cried, inflaming
+himself more and more. "It will change human life, it will make a new
+epoch, it will effect a greater economy of human force than all the
+machines under the sun. Think of the saving of nerve-tissue, think of
+the prevention of brain-irritation. Why, we shall all live longer
+through it--centenarians will become as cheap as American
+millionaires."
+
+Live longer through it! Alas, the mockery of the recollection! He left
+me, his face working wildly. For days the vision of it interrupted my
+own work. At last, I could bear the suspense no more and went to his
+house. I found him in ecstasies and his wife in tears. She was
+beginning to suspect the family skeleton.
+
+"_Eureka!_" he was shouting. "_Eureka!_"
+
+"What is the matter?" sobbed the poor woman. "Why don't you speak
+English? He has been going on like this for the last five minutes,"
+she added, turning pitifully to me.
+
+[Illustration: "'WHAT IS THE MATTER?'"]
+
+"_Eureka!_" shouted O'Donovan. "I must say it. No new invention is
+complete without it."
+
+"Bah! I didn't think you were so conventional," I said contemptuously.
+"I suppose you have found out how to make the memory-transferring
+machine?"
+
+"I have," he cried exultantly. "I shall christen it the noemagraph, or
+thought-writer. The impression is received on a sensitised plate which
+acts as a medium between the two minds. The brow of the purchaser is
+pressed against the plate, through which a current of electricity is
+then passed."
+
+He rambled on about volts and dynamic psychometry and other hard
+words, which, though they break no bones, should be strictly confined
+in private dictionaries.
+
+"I am awfully glad you came in," he said, resuming his mother tongue
+at last--"because if you won't charge me anything I will try the first
+experiment on you."
+
+I consented reluctantly, and in two minutes he rushed about the room
+triumphantly shouting, "22, Albert Flats, Victoria Square,
+Westminster," till he was hoarse. But for his enthusiasm I should have
+suspected he had crammed up my address on the sly.
+
+He started the Clearing House forthwith. It began humbly as an attic
+in the Strand. The first number of the catalogue was naturally meagre.
+He was good enough to put me on the free list, and I watched with
+interest the development of the enterprise. He had canvassed his
+acquaintances for subscribers, and begged everybody he met to send him
+particulars of their cast-off memories. When he could afford to
+advertise a little, his _clientèle_ increased. There is always a
+public for anything _bizarre_, and a percentage of the population
+would send thirteen stamps for the Philosopher's Stone, post free. Of
+course, the rest of the population smiled at him for an ingenious
+quack.
+
+The "Memories on Sale" catalogue grew thicker and thicker. The edition
+issued to the subscribers contained merely the items, but O'Donovan's
+copy comprised also the names and addresses of the vendors, and now
+and again he allowed me to have a peep at it in strict confidence. The
+inventor himself had not foreseen the extraordinary uses to which his
+noemagraph would be put, nor the extraordinary developments of his
+business. Here are some specimens culled at random from No. 13 of the
+Clearing House catalogue when O'Donovan still limited himself to
+facilitating the sale of superfluous memories:--
+
+     1. 25, Portsdown Avenue, Maida. Vale.
+
+     3. 13502, 17208 (banknote numbers).
+
+     12. History of England (a few Saxon kings missing), as
+     successful in a recent examination by the College of
+     Preceptors. Adapted to the requirements of candidates for the
+     Oxford and Cambridge Local and the London Matriculation.
+
+     17. Paley's Evidences, together with a job lot of dogmatic
+     theology (second-hand), a valuable collection by a clergyman
+     recently ordained, who has no further use for them.
+
+     26. A dozen whist wrinkles, as used by a retiring speculator.
+     Excessively cheap.
+
+     29. Mathematical formulæ (complete sets; all the latest
+     novelties and improvements, including those for the higher
+     plane curves, and a selection of the most useful logarithms),
+     the property of a dying Senior Wrangler. Applications must be
+     immediate, and no payment need be made to the heirs till the
+     will has been proved.
+
+     35. Arguments in favour of Home Rule (warranted sound);
+     proprietor, distinguished Gladstonian M.P., has made up his
+     mind to part with them at a sacrifice. Eminently suitable for
+     bye-elections. Principals only.
+
+     58. Witty wedding speech, as delivered amid great applause by a
+     bridegroom. Also an assortment of toasts, jocose and serious,
+     in good condition. Reduction on taking a quantity.
+
+[Illustration: "A CLERGYMAN RECENTLY ORDAINED."]
+
+Politicians, clergymen, and ex-examinees soon became the chief
+customers. Graduates in arts and science hastened to discumber their
+memories of the useless load of learning which had outstayed its
+function of getting them on in the world. Thus not only did they make
+some extra money, but memories which would otherwise have rapidly
+faded were turned over to new minds to play a similarly beneficent
+part in aiding the careers of the owners. The fine image of Lucretius
+was realised, and the torch of learning was handed on from generation
+to generation. Had O'Donovan's business been as widely known as it
+deserved, the curse of cram would have gone to roost for ever, and a
+finer physical race of Englishmen would have been produced. In the
+hands of honest students the invention might have produced
+intellectual giants, for each scholar could have started where his
+predecessor left off, and added more to his wealth of lore, the
+moderns standing upon the shoulders of the ancients in a more literal
+sense than Bacon dreamed. The memory of Macaulay, which all Englishmen
+rightly reverence, might have been possessed by his schoolboy. As it
+was, omniscient idiots abounded, left colossally wise by their
+fathers, whose painfully acquired memories they inherited without the
+intelligence to utilise them.
+
+[Illustration: THE OMNISCIENT IDIOT.]
+
+O'Donovan's Parliamentary connection was a large one, doubtless merely
+because of his former position and his consequent contact with
+political circles. Promises to constituents were always at a discount,
+the supply being immensely in excess of the demand; indeed, promises
+generally were a drug in the market.
+
+Instead of issuing the projected supplemental catalogue of "Memories
+Wanted," O'Donovan by this time saw his way to buying them up on spec.
+He was not satisfied with his commission. He had learnt by experience
+the kinds that went best, such as exam. answers, but he resolved to
+have all sorts and be remembered as the Whiteley of Memory. Thus the
+Clearing House very soon developed into a storehouse. O'Donovan's
+advertisement ran thus:--
+
+     WANTED! Wanted! Wanted! Memories! Memories! Best Prices in the
+     Trade. Happy, Sad, Bitter, Sweet (as Used by Minor Poets). High
+     Prices for Absolutely Pure Memories. Memories, Historical,
+     Scientific, Pious, &c. Good Memories! Special Terms to Liars.
+     Precious Memories (Exeter Hall-marked). New Memories for Old!
+     Lost Memories Recovered while you wait. Old Memories Turned
+     equal to New.
+
+O'Donovan soon sported his brougham. Any day you went into the store
+(which now occupied the whole of the premises in the Strand) you could
+see endless traffic going on. I often loved to watch it. People who
+were tired of themselves came here to get a complete new outfit of
+memories, and thus change their identities. Plaintiffs, defendants,
+and witnesses came to be fitted with memories that would stand the
+test of the oath, and they often brought solicitors with them to
+advise them in selecting from the stock. Counsel's opinion on these
+points was regarded as especially valuable. Statements that would wash
+and stand rough pulling about were much sought after. Gentlemen and
+ladies writing reminiscences and autobiographies were to be met with
+at all hours, and nothing was more pathetic than to see the humble
+artisan investing his hard-earned "tanner" in recollections of a
+seaside holiday.
+
+[Illustration: "THEY OFTEN BROUGHT SOLICITORS WITH THEM."]
+
+In the buying-up department trade was equally brisk, and people who
+were hard-up were often forced to part with their tenderest
+recollections. Memories of dead loves went at five shillings a dozen,
+and all those moments which people had vowed never to forget were sold
+at starvation prices. The memories "indelibly engraven" on hearts were
+invariably faded and only sold as damaged. The salvage from the most
+ardent fires of affection rarely paid the porterage. As a rule, the
+dearest memories were the cheapest. Of the memory of favours there was
+always a glut, and often heaps of diseased memories had to be swept
+away at the instigation of the sanitary inspector. Memories of wrongs
+done, being rarely parted with except when their owners were at their
+last gasp, fetched fancy prices. Mourners' memories ruled especially
+lively. In the Memory Exchange, too, there was always a crowd, the
+temptation to barter worn-out memories for new proving irresistible.
+
+[Illustration: "WHEN THEIR OWNERS WERE AT THEIR LAST GASP."]
+
+One day O'Donovan came to me, crying "_Eureka!_" once more.
+
+"Shut up!" I said, annoyed by the idiotic Hellenicism.
+
+"Shut up! Why, I shall open ten more shops. I have discovered the art
+of duplicating, triplicating, polyplicating memories. I used only to
+be able to get one impression out of the sensitised plate, now I can
+get any number."
+
+"Be careful!" I said. "This may ruin you."
+
+"How so?" he asked scornfully.
+
+"Why, just see--suppose you supply two candidates for a science degree
+with the same chemical reminiscences, you lay them under a suspicion
+of copying; two after-dinner speakers may find themselves recollecting
+the same joke; several autobiographers may remember their making the
+same remark to Gladstone. Unless your customers can be certain they
+have the exclusive right in other people's memories, they will fall
+away."
+
+[Illustration: TWO AFTER-DINNER SPEAKERS RECOLLECTING THE SAME JOKE.]
+
+"Perhaps you are right," he said. "I must '_Eureka_' something else."
+His Greek was as defective as if he had had a classical education.
+
+What he found was "The Hire System." Some people who might otherwise
+have been good customers objected to losing their memories entirely.
+They were willing to part with them for a period. For instance, when a
+man came up to town or took a run to Paris, he did not mind
+dispensing with some of his domestic recollections, just for a change.
+People who knew better than to forget themselves entirely profited by
+the opportunity of acquiring the funds for a holiday, merely by
+leaving some of their memories behind them. There were always others
+ready to hire for a season the discarded bits of personality, and thus
+remorse was done away with, and double lives became a luxury within
+the reach of the multitude. To the very poor, O'Donovan's new
+development proved an invaluable auxiliary to the pawn-shop. On Monday
+mornings, the pavement outside was congested with wretched-looking
+women anxious to pawn again the precious memories they had taken out
+with Saturday's wages. Under this hire system it became possible to
+pledge the memories of the absent _for_ wine instead of in it. But the
+most gratifying result was its enabling pious relatives to redeem the
+memories of the dead, on payment of the legal interest. It was great
+fun to watch O'Donovan strutting about the rooms of his newest branch,
+swelling with pride like a combination cock and John Bull.
+
+[Illustration: WRETCHED-LOOKING WOMEN PAWNING THEIR MEMORIES.]
+
+The experiences he gained here afforded him the material for a final
+development, but, to be strictly chronological, I ought first to
+mention the newspaper into which the catalogue evolved. It was called
+_In Memoriam_, and was published at a penny, and gave a prize of a
+thousand pounds to any reader who lost his memory on the railway, and
+who applied for the reward in person. _In Memoriam_ dealt with
+everything relating to memory, though, dishonestly enough, the
+articles were all original. So were the advertisements, which were
+required to have reference to the objects of the Clearing
+House--_e.g._,
+
+     A PHILANTHROPIC GENTLEMAN of good _address_, who has travelled
+     a great deal, wishes to offer his _addresses_ to impecunious
+     _young ladies_ (orphans preferred). Only those genuinely
+     desirous of changing their residences, and with weak memories,
+     need apply.
+
+And now for the final and fatal "_Eureka_." The anxiety of some
+persons to hire out their memories for a period led O'Donovan to see
+that it was absurd for him to pay for the use of them. The owners were
+only too glad to dodge remorse. He hit on the sublime idea that they
+ought to pay _him_. The result was the following advertisement in _In
+Memoriam_ and its contemporaries:--
+
+     AMNESIA AGENCY! O'Donovan's Anodyne. Cheap
+     Forgetfulness--Complete or Partial. Easy Amnesia--Temporary or
+     Permanent. Haunting Memories Laid! Consciences Cleared. Cares
+     carefully Removed without Gas or Pain. The London address of
+     Lethe is 1001, Strand. Don't forget it.
+
+Quite a new class of customers rushed to avail themselves of the new
+pathological institution. What attracted them was having to pay.
+Hitherto they wouldn't have gone if you paid _them_, as O'Donovan used
+to do. Widows and widowers presented themselves in shoals for
+treatment, with the result that marriages took place even within the
+year of mourning--a thing which obviously could not be done under any
+other system. I wonder whether Geraldine--but let me finish now!
+
+How well I remember that bright summer's morning when, wooed without
+by the liberal sunshine, and disgusted with the progress I was making
+with my new study in realistic fiction, I threw down my pen, strolled
+down the Strand, and turned into the Clearing House. I passed through
+the selling department, catching a babel of cries from the
+counter-jumpers--"Two gross anecdotes? Yes, sir; this way, sir.
+Half-dozen proposals; it'll be cheaper if you take a dozen, miss. Can
+I do anything more for you, mum? Just let me show you a sample of our
+innocent recollections. The Duchess of Bayswater has just taken some.
+Anything in the musical line this morning, signor? We have some lovely
+new recollections just in from impecunious composers. Won't you take a
+score? Good morning, Mr. Clement Archer. We have the very thing for
+you--a memory of Macready playing Wolsey, quite clear and in excellent
+preservation; the only one in the market. Oh, no, mum; we have already
+allowed for these memories being slightly soiled. Jones, this lady
+complains the memories we sent her were short."
+
+[Illustration: "'TWO GROSS ANECDOTES?'"]
+
+O'Donovan was not to be seen. I passed through the Buying Department,
+where the employees were beating down the prices of "kind
+remembrances," and through the Hire Department, where the clerks were
+turning up their noses at the old memories that had been pledged so
+often, into the Amnesia Agency. There I found the great organiser
+peering curiously at a sensitised plate.
+
+"Oh," he said, "is that you? Here's a curiosity."
+
+"What is it?" I asked.
+
+"The memory of a murder. The patient paid well to have it off his
+mind, but I am afraid I shall miss the usual second profit, for who
+will buy it again?"
+
+"I will!" I cried, with a sudden inspiration. "Oh! what a fool I have
+been. I should have been your best customer. I ought to have bought up
+all sorts of memories, and written the most veracious novel the world
+has seen. I haven't got a murder in my new book, but I'll work one in
+at once. '_Eureka!_'"
+
+"Stash that!" he said revengefully. "You can have the memory with
+pleasure. I couldn't think of charging an old friend like you, whose
+moving from an address, which I've sold, to 22, Albert Flats, Victoria
+Square, Westminster, made my fortune."
+
+That was how I came to write the only true murder ever written. It
+appears that the seller, a poor labourer, had murdered a friend in
+Epping Forest, just to rob him of half-a-crown, and calmly hid him
+under some tangled brushwood. A few months afterwards, having
+unexpectedly come into a fortune, he thought it well to break entirely
+with his past, and so had the memory extracted at the Agency. This, of
+course, I did not mention, but I described the murder and the
+subsequent feelings of the assassin, and launched the book on the
+world with a feeling of exultant expectation.
+
+Alas! it was damned universally for its tameness and the improbability
+of its murder scenes. The critics, to a man, claimed to be authorities
+on the sensations of murderers, and the reading public, aghast, said I
+was flying in the face of Dickens. They said the man would have taken
+daily excursions to the corpse, and have been forced to invest in a
+season ticket to Epping Forest; they said he would have started if his
+own shadow crossed his path, not calmly have gone on drinking beer
+like an innocent babe at its mother's breast. I determined to have the
+laugh of them. Stung to madness, I wrote to the papers asserting the
+truth of my murder, and giving the exact date and the place of burial.
+The next day a detective found the body, and I was arrested. I asked
+the police to send for O'Donovan, and gave them the address of the
+Amnesia Agency, but O'Donovan denied the existence of such an
+institution, and said he got his living as secretary of the Shamrock
+Society.
+
+I raved and cursed him then--now it occurs to me that he had perhaps
+submitted himself (and everybody else) to amnesiastic treatment. The
+jury recommended me to mercy on the ground that to commit a murder for
+the artistic purpose of describing the sensations bordered on
+insanity; but even this false plea has not saved my life.
+
+It may. A petition has been circulated by Mudie's, and even at the
+eighth hour my reprieve may come. Yet, if the third volume of my life
+be closed to-morrow, I pray that these, my last words, may be
+published in an _édition de luxe_, and such of the profits as the
+publisher can spare be given to Geraldine.
+
+If I am reprieved, I will never buy another murderer's memory, not for
+all the artistic ideals in the world, I'll be hanged if I do.
+
+
+
+
+_Mated by a Waiter._
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+BLACK AND WHITE.
+
+Jones! I mention him here because he is the first and last word of the
+story. It is the story of what might be called a game of chess between
+me and him; for I never made a move, but he made a counter-move. You
+must remember though that he played, so to speak, blindfold, while I
+started the game, not with the view of mating him, but merely for the
+fun of playing.
+
+There was to be a Review of the Fleet, and the inhabitants of Ryde
+rejoiced, as befitted sons of the sea. Although many of them would be
+reduced to living in their cellars, like their own black-beetles, so
+that they might harbour the patriotic immigrant, they sacrificed
+themselves ungrudgingly. No, it was not the natives who grumbled.
+
+My friends, Jack Woolwich and Merton Towers, being in the Civil
+Service, naturally desired to pay a compliment to the less civil
+department of State, and picked their month's holiday so as to include
+the Review. They took care to let the Review come out at the posterior
+extremity of the holiday, so as to find them quite well and in the
+enjoyment of excellent quarters at economical rates. They selected a
+comfortable but unfashionable hotel, at moderate but uninclusive
+terms, and joyously stretched their free limbs unswaddled by red-tape.
+Soon London became a forgotten nightmare.
+
+They wrote to me irregularly, tantalising me unwittingly with glimpses
+of buoyant wave and sunny pasture. It fretted me to be immured in the
+stone-prison of the metropolis, and my friends' letters did but
+sprinkle sea-salt on my wounds; for I was working up a medical
+practice in the northern district, and my absence might prove
+fatal--not so much, perhaps, to my patients as to my prospects. I was
+beginning to be recognised as a specialist in throats and eyes, and I
+invariably sent my clients' ears to my old hospital chum, Robins,
+which increased the respect of the neighbourhood for my professional
+powers. Your general practitioner is a suspiciously omniscient person,
+and it is far sager to know less and to charge more.
+
+"My dear Ted," wrote the Woolwich Infant (of course we could not
+escape calling Jack Woolwich thus), "I do wish we had you here. Such
+larks! We've got the most comical cuss of a waiter you ever saw. I
+feel sure he would appeal irresistibly to your sense of humour. He
+seems to boss the whole establishment. His name is Jones; and when you
+have known him a day you feel that he is the only Jones--the only
+Jones possible. He is a middle-aged man, with a slight stoop and a
+cat-like crawl. His face is large and flabby, ornamented with
+mutton-chop whiskers, streaked as with the silver of half a
+century of tips. He is always at your elbow--a mercenary
+Mephistopheles--suggesting drives or sails, and recommending certain
+yachts, boats, and carriages with insinuative irresistibleness. He has
+the tenacity of an army of able-bodied leeches, and if you do not take
+his advice he spoils your day. You may shake him off by fleeing into
+the interior of the Isle, or plunging into the sea; but you cannot be
+always trotting about or bathing; and at mealtimes he waits upon those
+who have disregarded his recommendations. He has a hopelessly
+corruptive effect on the soul, and I, who have always prided myself on
+my immaculate moral get-up, was driven to desperate lying within
+twenty-four hours of my arrival. I told him how much I had enjoyed the
+carriage-drive he had counselled, or the sail he had sanctioned by his
+approval; and, in return, he regaled me with titbits at our _table
+d'hôte_ dinner. But the next day he followed me about with large,
+reproachful eyes, in grieved silence. I saw that he knew all; and I
+dragged myself along with my tail between my legs, miserably asking
+myself how I could regain his respect.
+
+[Illustration: "THE INFANT."]
+
+"Wherever I turned I saw nothing but those dilated orbs of rebuke. I
+took refuge in my bedroom, but he glided in to give me a bad French
+halfpenny the chambermaid had picked up under my bed; and the implied
+contrast to be read in those eyes, between the honesty of the
+establishment and my own, was more than I could bear. I flew into a
+passion--the last resource of detected guilt--and irrelevantly told
+him I would choose my own amusements, and that I had not come down to
+increase his commissions.
+
+"Ted, till my dying day I shall not forget the dumb martyrdom of those
+eyes! When he was sufficiently recovered to speak, he swore, in a
+voice broken by emotion, that he would scorn taking commissions from
+the quarters I imagined. Ashamed of my unjust suspicions, I
+apologised, and went out that afternoon alone for a trip in the
+_Mayblossom_, and was violently sick. Merton funked it because the
+weather was rough, and had a lucky escape; but he had to meet Jones in
+the evening.
+
+"Merton's theory is, that Jones doesn't get commissions, for the
+simple reason that the wagonettes and broughams and bath-chairs and
+boats and yachts he recommends all belong to him, and that the nominal
+proprietors are men of straw, stuffed by the only Jones. This theory
+is, I must admit, borne out by the evidence of O'Rafferty, a jolly old
+Irishman, whose wife died here early in the year, and who has been
+making holiday ever since. He says that Jones had a week off in March
+when there was hardly anybody in the hotel, and he was to be seen
+driving a wagonette between Ryde and Cowes daily. And, indeed, there
+is something curiously provincial and plebeian about Jones's mind
+which suggests a man who has risen from the cab-ranks.
+
+"His ideas of tips are delightfully democratic, and you cannot insult
+him even with twopence. He handles a bottle of cheap claret as
+reverently as a Russian the image of his saint, and he has never got
+over his awe of champagne. To drink Monopole at dinner is to mount a
+pedestal of dignity, and I completely recovered his esteem by
+drowning the memories of that awful marine experience in a pint of
+'dry.' When he draws the champagne cork he has a sacerdotal air, and
+he pours out the foaming liquid with the obsequiousness of an
+archbishop placing on his sovereign's head the crown he may never hope
+to do more than touch. But perhaps the best proof of the humbleness of
+his origin is his veneration for the aristocracy. An average waiter
+is, from the nature of his occupation, liable to be brought into
+contact with the bluest of blood, and to have his undiminished
+reverence for it tempered with a good-natured perception of mortal
+foibles. But Jones's attitude is one of awestruck unquestioning
+worship. He speaks of a lord with bated breath, and he dare not, even
+in conversation, ascend to a duke.
+
+[Illustration: "THE ONLY JONES."]
+
+"It would seem that this is not one of the hotels which the
+aristocrat's fancy turns to thoughts of; for apparently only one lord
+has ever stayed here, judging by the frequency with which Jones
+whispers his name. Though some of us seem to have a beastly lot of
+money, and to do all the year round what Merton and I can only indulge
+in for a month, we are a rather plebeian company I fear, and it is
+simply overwhelming the way Jones rams Lord Porchester down our
+throats.
+
+"'When his lordship stayed here he partic'larly admired the view from
+that there window.' 'His lordship wouldn't drink anything but Pommery
+Green-oh; he used to swallow it by tumblersful, as you or I might
+rum-and-water, sir.' 'Ah, sir! Lord Porchester hired the _Mayblossom_
+all to himself, and often said: "By Jove! she's like a sea-gull. She
+almost comes near my own little beauty. I think I shall have to buy
+her, by gad I shall! and let them race each other."'
+
+"And the fellow is such an inveterate gossip that everybody here knows
+everybody else's business. The proprietor is a quiet, gentlemanly
+fellow, and is the only person in the place who keeps his presence of
+mind in the presence of Jones, and is not in mental subjugation to the
+flabby, florid, crawling boss of the rest of the show.
+
+"You may laugh, but I warrant you wouldn't be here a day before Jones
+would get the upper hand of you. On the outside, of course, he is as
+fixedly deferential as if every moment were to be your last, and the
+cab were waiting to take you to the Station; but inwardly, you feel
+he is wound about you like a boa-constrictor. I do so long to see him
+swathing you in his coils! Won't you come down, and give your patients
+a chance?"
+
+"My dear Jack," I wrote back to the Infant, "I am so sorry that you
+are having bad weather. You don't say so, but when a man covers six
+sheets of writing-paper I know what it means. I must say you have
+given me an itching to try my strength with the only Jones; but, alas!
+this is a musical neighbourhood, and there is a run on sore throats,
+so I must be content to enjoy my Jones by deputy. Is there any other
+attraction about the shanty?"
+
+Merton Towers took up the running:
+
+"Barring ourselves and Jones," he wrote, "and perhaps O'Rafferty,
+there isn't a decent human being in the hotel. The ladies are either
+old and ugly, or devoted to their husbands. The only ones worth
+talking to are in the honeymoon stage. But Jones is worth a hundred
+petticoats: he is tremendous fun. We've got a splendid spree on now. I
+think the Infant told you that Jones has not enjoyed that actual
+contact with the 'hupper suckles' which his simple snobbish soul so
+thoroughly deserves; and that, in spite of the eternal Lord
+Porchester, his acquaintance is less with the _beau monde_ than with
+the Bow and Bromley _monde_. Since the Infant and I discovered this we
+have been putting on the grand air. Unfortunately, it was too late to
+claim titles; but we have managed to convey the impression that,
+although commoners and plain misters, we have yet had the privilege of
+rubbing against the purple. We have casually and carelessly dropped
+hints of aristocratic acquaintances, and Jones has bowed down and
+picked them up reverently.
+
+"The other day, when he brought us our Chartreuse after dinner, the
+Infant said: 'Ah! I suppose you haven't got Damtidam in stock?' The
+only Jones stared awestruck. 'Of course not! How can it possibly have
+penetrated to these parts yet?' I struck in with supercilious
+reproach. 'Damtidam! What is that, sir?' faltered Jones. 'What! you
+don't mean to say you haven't even heard of it?' cried the Infant in
+amaze. Jones looked miserable and apologetic. 'It's the latest
+liqueur,' I explained graciously. 'Awfully expensive; made by a new
+brotherhood of Anchorites in Dalmatia, who have secluded themselves
+from the world in order to concoct it. They only serve the
+aristocracy; but, of course, now and then a millionaire manages to get
+hold of a bottle. Lord Everett made me a present of some a couple of
+months ago, but I use it very, very sparingly, and I daresay the
+flask's at least half-full. I have it in my portmanteau.' 'How does it
+taste, sir?' enquired Jones, in a hushed, solemn whisper. 'Damtidam is
+not the sort of thing that would please the uncultured palate,' I
+replied haughtily. 'It's what they call an acquired taste, ain't it,
+sir?' he asked wistfully. 'Would you like to have a drop?' I said
+affably. 'Oh, Towers!' cried the Infant, 'what would Lord Everett
+say?' 'Well, but how is Lord Everett to know?' I responded. 'Jones
+will never let on.' 'His lordship shall never hear a word from my
+lips,' Jones protested gratefully. 'But you won't like it at first. To
+really enjoy Damtidam, you'll have to have several goes at it. Have
+you got a little phial?' Jones ran and fetched the phial, and I fished
+out of my portmanteau the bottle of dyspepsia mixture you gave us and
+filled Jones's phial. I watched him glide into the garden and put the
+phial to his lips with a heavenly expression, through which some
+suggestions of purgatory subsequently flitted. That was yesterday.
+
+"'Well, Jones, how do you like Damtidam?' I enquired genially this
+morning. 'Very 'igh-class, very 'igh-class in its taste, thank you,
+sir,' he replied. 'It's 'ardly for the likes o' me, I'm afraid; but as
+you've been good enough to give me some, I'll make so bold as to enjoy
+it. I 'ad a second sip at it this morning, and I liked it a deal
+better than yesterday. It requires time to get the taste, sir; but,
+depend upon it, I'll do my best to acquire it.' 'I wish you success!'
+I cried. 'Once you get used to it, it's simply delicious. Why, I'd
+never travel without a bottle of it. I often take it in the middle of
+the night. You finish that phial, Jones; never mind the cost. I'm
+writing to Lord Everett to-day, and I'll drop him a broad hint that I
+should like another.'
+
+"Eureka! As I write this a glorious idea has occurred to me. I _am_
+writing to you to-day, and you _are_ the giver of the Damtidam,
+_alias_ dyspepsia mixture. Oh, if you could only come down and pose as
+Lord Everett! What larks we should have! Do, old boy; it'll be the
+greatest spree we've ever had. Don't say 'no.' You want a change, you
+know you do; or you'll be on the sick-list yourself soon. Come, if
+only for a week! Surely you can find a chum to take your practice. How
+about Robins? He can't be all ears. I daresay he's equal to looking
+after your throats and eyes for a week. The Infant joins with me, and
+says that if you don't come he'll kill off Jones, and deprive you for
+ever of the pleasure of knowing him.
+
+  "I remain,
+
+  "Yours till Jones's death,
+
+  "MERTON TOWERS.
+
+  "P.S.--When you come, bring a dozen of Damtidam."
+
+The prospect of becoming Lord Everett flattered and tickled me, and
+was a daily temptation to me in my dreary drudgery. To the appeal of
+the pictured visions of woods and waters was added the alluring figure
+of Jones, standing a little bent amid the smiling landscape, acquiring
+a taste for Damtidam; his pasty face kneaded ecstatically, his hand on
+the pit of his stomach. At last I could stand it no longer, I went to
+see Robins, and I wrote to my friends:
+
+"Jones wins! Expect me about ten days before the Review, so that we
+can return to town together.
+
+"When I first asked Robins to take my eyes, he was inclined to dash
+them; but the moment I let him into the plot against Jones, he agreed
+to do all my work on condition of being informed of the progress of
+the campaign.
+
+"I shan't tell anyone I'm leaving town, and Robins will forward my
+letters in an envelope addressed to Lord Everett.
+
+"P.S.--I am bottling a special brand of Damtidam."
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A DIFFICULT OPENING.
+
+The proudest moment of Jones's life was probably when he assisted me
+to alight from the carriage I had ordered at the station. I wore a
+light duster, a straw hat, and goloshes (among other things), together
+with the air of having come over in the same steamboat as the
+Conqueror. I may as well mention here that I am tall, almost as tall
+as the Woolwich Infant, who frequently stands six foot two on my pet
+corn (Towers, by the way, is a short squat man, whose delusion that he
+is handsome can be read plainly upon his face). My features, like my
+habits, are regular. By complexion I belong to the fair sex; but there
+is a masculine vigour about my physique and my language which redeems
+me from effeminateness. I do not mention my tawny moustache, because
+that is not an exclusively male trait in these days of women's rights.
+
+"Good morning, my lord!" said Jones, his obeisance so low and his
+voice so loud that I had to give the driver half-a-crown.
+
+I nodded almost imperceptibly, knowing that the surest way to impress
+Jones with my breeding was to display no trace of it. I strolled
+languidly into the hall, deferentially followed by the Infant and
+Merton Towers, leaving Jones distracted between the desire to handle
+my luggage and to show me my room.
+
+"Hexcuse me, my lord," said Jones, fluttered. "Jane, run for the
+master."
+
+"Excuse _me_, my lord," said the Infant; "I'll run up and wash for
+lunch. See you in a moment. Come along, Merton. It's so beastly
+high-up. When are you going to get a lift, Jones?"
+
+"In a moment, sir; in a moment!" replied Jones automatically.
+
+He seemed half-dazed.
+
+The quiet, gentlemanly young proprietor, who appeared to have been
+disturbed in his studies, for he held a volume of Dickens in his hand,
+conducted me to a gorgeously furnished bedroom on the first floor
+facing the sea.
+
+"It's the best we can do for your lordship," he said apologetically;
+"but with the Review so near--"
+
+I waved my hand impatiently, wishing he could have done worse for me.
+In town I had been too busy to realise the situation in detail; but
+now it began to dawn upon me that it was going to be an expensive
+joke. Besides, I was separated from my friends, who were corridors
+away and flights higher, and convivial meetings at midnight would
+mean disagreeable stockinged wanderings for somebody--a mere shadow of
+a trifle, no doubt, but little things like that worry more than they
+look. I was afraid to ask the price of this swell bedroom, and I began
+to comprehend the meaning of _noblesse oblige_.
+
+"The sitting-room adjoins," said the hotel-keeper, suddenly opening a
+door and ushering me into a magnificent chamber, with a lofty ceiling
+and a dado. The furniture was plush-covered and suggestive of footmen.
+"I presume you will not be taking your meals in public?"
+
+"H'm! H'm!" I muttered, tugging at my moustache. Then, struck by a
+bright idea, I said: "What do Mr. Woolwich and Mr. Towers do?"
+
+"They join the _table d'hôte_, your lordship," said the proprietor.
+"They didn't require a sitting-room they said, as they should be
+almost entirely in the open air."
+
+"Oh! well, I could hardly leave my friends," I said reflectively; "I
+suppose I shall have to join them at the _table d'hôte_."
+
+"I daresay they would like to have your lordship with them," said the
+proprietor, with a faint, flattering smile.
+
+I smiled internally at my cunning in getting out of the sitting-room.
+
+"It's an awful bore," I yawned; "but I'm afraid they'd be annoyed if I
+ate up here alone, so--"
+
+"You'll invite them up here for all meals? Yes, my lord," said Jones
+at my elbow.
+
+He had sidled up with his cat-like crawl. Through the open door of
+communication I saw he had deposited my boxes in the gorgeous bedroom.
+There was a moment of tense silence, in which I struggled desperately
+for a response. The brazen shudder of a gong vibrated through the
+house.
+
+"Is that lunch?" I asked in relief, making a step towards the door.
+
+"Yes, my lord," said Jones; "but not your lordship's lunch. It will be
+laid here immediately, my lord. I will go at once and convey your
+invitation to your lordship's friends."
+
+He hastened from the room, leaving me dumbfounded. I did not enjoy
+Jones as much as I had anticipated. In a moment a pretty parlour-maid
+arrived to lay the cloth. I became conscious that I was hungry and
+thirsty and travel-stained, and I determined to let things slide till
+after lunch, when I could easily set them right. The sunshine was
+flooding the room, and the sea was a dance of diamonds. The sight of
+the prandial preparations softened me. I retired to my beautiful
+bedroom and plunged my face into a basin of water.
+
+There was a knock at the door.
+
+"Come in!" I spluttered.
+
+"Your hot water, my lord!" It was Jones.
+
+"I've got into enough already," I thought. "Don't want it," I growled
+peremptorily; "I always wash in cold."
+
+I would have my way in small things, I resolved, if I could not have
+it in great.
+
+"Certainly, your lordship; this is only for shaving."
+
+My cheeks grew hot beneath the fingers washing them. I remembered that
+I had overslept myself that morning, and neglected shaving lest I
+should miss my train. There were but a few microscopic hairs, yet I
+felt at once I had not the face to meet Jones at lunch.
+
+"Thank you!" I said savagely.
+
+When I had wiped my eyes I found he was still in the room, bent in
+meek adoration.
+
+"What in the devil do you want now?" I thundered.
+
+His eyes lit up with rapture. It was as though I had made oath I was a
+nobleman and removed his last doubt.
+
+"Pommery Green-oh or Hideseek, my lord?"
+
+I cursed silently. I am of an easy-going disposition, and in my most
+penurious student days, had to spend twenty-five per cent more on my
+modest lunch whenever the waiter said: "Stout or bitter, sir?" But the
+present alternative was far more terrible. I was on the point of
+saying I was a teetotaller, when I remembered that would shut off my
+nocturnal whisky-and-water, and condemn me to goody-goody beverages at
+meals. I remembered, too, that Jones intended the champagne as much
+for my friends as myself, and that lords are proverbially
+disassociated from temperance. Oh! it was horrible that this
+oleaginous snob should rob a poor man of his beer! Perhaps I could
+escape with claret. In my agitation I commenced lathering my chin and
+returned no answer at all. The voice of Jones came at last, charged
+with deeper respect, but inevitable as the knell of doom.
+
+"Did you say Pommery Green-oh! my lord?"
+
+"No!" I yelled defiantly.
+
+"Thank you, my lord. Lord Porchester was very partial to our
+Hideseek--when he was here. We have an excellent year."
+
+"I wish you had twelve months," I thought furiously. Then when the
+door closed upon him, I ground my razor savagely and muttered: "All
+right! I'll take it out of you in Damtidam."
+
+I heard the bustle of my friends arriving to lunch, and I shaved
+myself hastily. Then slipping on my coat and dabbing a bit of
+sticking-plaster on my chin, I threw open the door violently; for I
+was not going to let those two fellows off an exhibition of slang.
+They should have thought out the plot more fully; have hired me a
+moderate bedroom in advance, and not have let me in for the luxuries
+of Lucullus. It was a cowardly desertion, their leaving me at the
+critical moment, and they should learn what I thought of it.
+
+"You ruffians!" I began; but the words died on my lips. Jones was
+waiting at table.
+
+It ought to have been a delicious lunch: broiled chickens and
+apple-tart; the cool breeze coming through the open window, the sea
+and the champagne sparkling. But I, who was hungriest, enjoyed it
+least; Jones, who ate nothing, enjoyed it most. The Infant and Merton
+Towers simply overflowed with high spirits, keeping up a running fire
+of aristocratic allusions, which galled me beyond endurance.
+
+"By the way, how is the dowager-duchess?" wound up the Infant.
+
+"D---- the dowager-duchess!" I roared, losing the remains of my
+temper.
+
+Jones grew radiant, and the Infant winked irritating approval of my
+natural touches. Such contempt for duchesses could only be bred of
+familiarity. At last I could contain myself no longer; I must either
+explode or have a fit. I sent Jones for cigarettes.
+
+Directly the door closed those two men turned upon me.
+
+"I say, old fellow," exclaimed Towers reproachfully, "isn't this just
+going it a little too far?"
+
+"What in creation made you take these howling apartments?" asked the
+Infant. "Review time, too! They've been saving up these rooms,
+foreseeing there would be some tip-top swells crowded out of the
+fashionable hotels. Why, there's a cosy little crib next to ours I
+made sure you'd have."
+
+"Well, I call this cool!" I gasped.
+
+"So it is," said the Infant; "I admit that. It's the coolest room in
+the house. It'll be real jolly up here; and if you can stand the
+racket I'm sure I'm not the chap to grumble."
+
+"You must have been doing beastly well, old man," Towers put in
+enviously; "to feed us like critics on chicken and champagne. I
+suppose they'll be opening new cemeteries down your way presently."
+
+"Look here, my fine fellows," I said ferociously, "don't you forget
+that there's plenty of room still in Ryde Churchyard."
+
+"Hallo, Ted!" cried the Infant, looking up with ingenuous surprise, "I
+thought you came down here on a holiday?"
+
+"Stash that!" I said. "It's you who've got me into this hole, and you
+know it."
+
+"Hole!" cried Towers, looking round the room in amaze. "He calls this
+a hole! Hang it all, my boy, are you a millionaire? I call this good
+enough for a lord."
+
+"Yes; but as I'm neither," I said grimly, "I should like you to
+understand that I'm not going to pay for this spread."
+
+"What!" gasped the Infant. "Invite a man to lunch, and expect him to
+square the bill?"
+
+"I never invited you!" I said indignantly.
+
+"Who then?" said Towers sternly.
+
+"Jones!" I answered.
+
+"Yes, my lord! Sorry to have kept your lordship waiting; but I think
+you will find these cigarettes to your liking. I haven't been at this
+box since Lord Porchester was here, and it got mislaid."
+
+"Take them away!" I roared. "They're Egyptians!"
+
+"Yes, my lord!" said Jones, in delight.
+
+He glided proudly from the room.
+
+"'Jones invited us?'" pursued the Infant. "What rot! As if Jones
+would dare do anything you hadn't told him. _We_ are his slaves. But
+you? Why, he hangs on your words!"
+
+"D---- him! I should like to see him hanging on something higher!" I
+cried.
+
+"Yes, your language _is_ low," admitted the Infant. "But, seriously,
+what's all the row about? I thought this champagne lunch was a bit of
+realism, just to start off with."
+
+I explained briefly how Jones had coiled himself around me, even as
+they had described. The dado echoed their ribald laughter.
+
+"Oh, well," said the Infant, "it's only right you should give a lunch
+the day you come into a peerage. It's really too much to expect us to
+pay scot, when there was a beautiful lunch of cold beef and pickles
+waiting for us in the dining-room, and included in our terms per week.
+We aren't going to pay for two lunches."
+
+"I don't mind the lunch," I said, smiling, my sense of humour
+returning now that I had poured forth my grievance. "I'd gladly give
+you chaps a lunch any day, and I'm pleased you enjoyed it so much.
+But, for the rest, I'm going to run this joke by syndicate, or not at
+all. I only came down with a tenner."
+
+"A pound a day!" said Towers, "that ought to be enough."
+
+"Why, there's a pound gone bang over this lunch already!" I retorted.
+
+"And then there's the apartments," put in the Infant roguishly. "I
+wonder what they'll tot up to?"
+
+"Jones alone knows," I groaned.
+
+He came in--a veritable devil--while his name was on my lips, with a
+new box of cigarettes.
+
+"Clear away!" I said briefly.
+
+He cleared away, and we breathed freely. We leaned back in the
+plush-covered easy-chairs, sending rings of fragrant smoke towards the
+blue horizon, and I felt more able to face the situation calmly.
+
+"I daresay we can lend you five quid between us," said Towers.
+
+"What's the good of a loan to an honest man?" I asked. "Can't we work
+the joke without such a lot of capital? The first thing is to get out
+of these rooms, and into that cosy little crib near you. I can say I
+yearn for your society."
+
+"But have you the courage to look Jones in the face and tell him
+that?" queried Towers dubiously.
+
+I hesitated. I felt instinctively that Jones would be dreadfully
+shocked if I changed my palatial apartments for a cheap bedroom; that
+it would be better if some one else broke the news.
+
+"Oh, the Infant'll explain," I said lightly.
+
+"Nothing of the sort," said the Infant; "it won't wash now. Besides,
+they'd make you shell out in any case. They'd pretend they turned lots
+of applicants away this morning, because the rooms were let. No, keep
+the bedroom, and we'll go shares in this sitting-room. It's jollier to
+have a proper private room."
+
+"Good!" I said. "Then it only remains to escape from these special
+meals and the champagne."
+
+"You leave that to me," said the Infant. "I'll tell Jones that you
+hunger for our company at meals, but that we can't consent to come up
+here, because you, with that reckless prodigality which is wearing the
+dowager-duchess to a shadow, insist on paying for everything consumed
+on your premises, so that you must e'en come to the general table.
+Jones will be glad enough to trot you round."
+
+"And I'll tell him," added Towers, "that, with that determined
+dipsomania which is making the money-lenders daily friendlier to your
+little brother, you swill champagne till you fly at waiters' throats
+like a mad dog, and that it is our sacred duty to diet you on
+table-beer or Tintara."
+
+"Wouldn't it be simpler to tell him the truth?" I asked feebly.
+
+"What!" gasped the Infant, "chuck up the sponge? Don't spoil the
+loveliest holiday I ever had, old man. Just think how you will go up
+in his estimation, when we tell him you are a spendthrift and a
+drunkard! For pity's sake, don't throw a gloom over Jones's life."
+
+"Very well," I said, relenting. "Only the exes must be cut down. The
+motto must be, 'Extravaganza without extravagance, or farces
+economically conducted.'"
+
+"Right you are!" they said; and then we smoked on in halcyon
+voluptuousness, now and then passing the matches or a droll remark
+about Jones. In the middle of one of the latter there was a knock at
+the door, and Jones entered.
+
+"The carriage will be round in five minutes, my lord," he announced.
+
+"The carriage!" I faltered, growing pale.
+
+"Yes, my lord. I took the liberty of thinking your lordship wouldn't
+waste such a fine afternoon indoors."
+
+"No; I'm going out at once," I said resolutely. "But I shan't drive."
+
+"Very well, my lord; I will countermand the carriage, and order a
+horse. I presume your lordship would like a spirited one? Jayes, up
+the street, has a beautiful bay steed."
+
+"Thank you; I don't care for riding--er--other people's horses."
+
+"No; of course not, my lord. I'll see that the _May blossom_ is
+reserved for your lordship's use this afternoon. Your lordship will
+have time for a glorious sail before dinner."
+
+He hastened from the room.
+
+"You'd better have the carriage," said the Infant drily; "it's cheaper
+than the yacht. You'll have to have it once, and you may as well get
+it over. After one trial, you can say it's too springless and the
+cushions are too crustaceous for your delicate anatomy."
+
+"I'll see him at Jericho first!" I cried, and wrenched at the
+bell-pull with angry determination.
+
+"Yes, my lord!"
+
+He stood bent and insinuative before me.
+
+"I won't have the yacht."
+
+"Very well, my lord; then I won't countermand the carriage."
+
+He turned to go.
+
+"Jones!" I shrieked.
+
+He looked back at me. His eyes, full of a trusting reverence, met
+mine. My resolution began oozing out at every pore.
+
+"Is--is--are _you_ going with the carriage?" I stammered, for want of
+something to say.
+
+"No, my lord," he answered wistfully.
+
+That settled it. I let him depart without another word.
+
+It was certainly a pleasant drive through the delightful scenery of
+the Isle, and I determined, since I had to pay the piper, to enjoy the
+dance. The Infant and Towers were hilarious to the point of vulgarity:
+I let myself go at the will of Jones. When we got back, we realised
+with a start that it was half-past six. The dressing-gong was
+sounding. Jones met me in the passage.
+
+"Dinner at seven, my lord, in your room."
+
+I made frantic motions to the Infant.
+
+"Tell him!" I breathed.
+
+"It's too late now," he whispered back. "To-morrow!"
+
+I telegraphed desperately to Towers. He shook his thick head
+helplessly.
+
+"Have you invited my friends to dinner?" I asked Jones bitingly.
+
+"No, my lord," he said simply. "I thought your lordship 'ad seen
+enough of them to-day."
+
+There was a suggestion of reproach in the apology. Jones was more
+careful of my dignity than I was.
+
+When I got to my room, I found, to my horror, my dress-clothes laid
+out on the bed--I had brought them on the off-chance of going to a
+local dance. Jones had opened my portmanteau. For a moment a cold
+chill traversed my spine, as I thought he must have seen the monogram
+on my linen, and discovered the imposture. Then I remembered with joy
+that it was an "E," which is the more formal initial of Ted, and would
+do for Everett. In my relief, I felt I must submit to the nuisance of
+dressing--in honour of Jones. While changing my trousers, a sudden
+curiosity took me. I peeped through the keyhole of my sitting-room,
+and saw Jones just arriving with another bottle of Heidsieck. I
+groaned. I knew I should have to drink it, to keep up the fiction
+Towers was going to palm off on Jones to-morrow. I felt like bolting
+on the spot, but I was in my Jaegers. Presently Jones sidled
+mysteriously towards my door and knelt down before it. It flashed upon
+me he wanted the keyhole I was occupying. I jumped up in alarm, and
+dressed with the decorum of a god with a worshipper's eye on him.
+
+I swallowed what Jones gave me, fuming. With the roast, a blessed
+thought came to soothe me. Thenceforward I chuckled continuously. I
+refused the _parfait aux frais_ and the savoury in my eagerness for
+the end of the meal. Revenge was sufficient sweets.
+
+"Haw, hum!" I murmured, caressing my moustache. "Bring me a Damtidam."
+
+I knew his little phial must be exhausted long since. I intended to
+give him a bottle.
+
+"Did your lordship say Damtidam?"
+
+"Damtidam!" I roared, while my heart beat voluptuous music. "You don't
+mean to say you don't keep it?"
+
+"Oh no, my lord! We laid in a big stock of it; but Lord Porchester was
+that fond of it (used to drink it like your lordship does champagne),
+I doubt if I could lay my hand on a bottle."
+
+"What an awful bo-ah!" I yawned. "I suppose I'll have to get a bottle
+of my own out of that little black box under my bed. I couldn't
+possibly go without it after dinner. Hang it all, the key is in my
+other trousers!"
+
+"Oh, don't trouble, my lord," said Jones anxiously. "I'll run and see
+if I can find any."
+
+I waited, gloating.
+
+Jones returned gleefully.
+
+"I've found plenty, my lord," he said, setting down a brimming
+liqueur-glass.
+
+He lingered about, clearing the table. His eye was upon me. I drank
+the Damtidam. Then Jones departed, and I went about kicking the
+furniture, and striding about in my desolate grandeur, like Napoleon
+at St. Helena.
+
+Presently the Infant and Towers came rushing in, choking with
+laughter.
+
+"Your arrival has fired afresh all Jones's aristocratic ambitions,"
+gurgled Towers. "Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+"Ho! ho! ho!" panted the Infant. "He's coaxed us out of all our
+remaining Damtidam."
+
+I grinned a sickly response.
+
+"Great Scot!" the Infant bellowed. "What's this howling wilderness of
+shirt-front?"
+
+"It's cooler," I explained.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE QUEEN COMES INTO PLAY.
+
+I had to breakfast in my room, but by lunch the next day my friends
+had found an opportunity to explain me to Jones. They had on several
+occasions strongly exhorted Jones to secrecy as to my rank, so that
+the eyes of the whole table were on me when I entered. I ate with the
+ease of one conscious of giving involuntary lessons in etiquette to a
+furtive-glancing bourgeoisie. The Infant gave me Tintara, to break me
+gradually of champagne and reduce me to malt. After lunch Towers
+remonstrated with Jones on having obviously given me away.
+
+"Sir," protested Jones, in righteous indignation, "I promised to tell
+no one in the hotel, and I have kept my word!"
+
+"Well, how do they know then?" enquired Towers.
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised if they read it in the _Visitors' List_,"
+Jones answered.
+
+Being now half-emancipated, I fell into the usual routine of a seaside
+holiday. I swam, I rowed, I walked, I lounged, whenever Jones would
+let me. One wet morning we even congratulated ourselves on our
+luxurious sitting-room, as we sat and smoked before the rain-whipt
+sea, till, unexpected, Jones brought up lunch for three. That evening,
+as we were entering the dining-room, Jones observed humbly to the
+Infant and Towers:
+
+"Excuse me, gentlemen; I 'ave 'ad to separate you from his lordship.
+We've 'ad such a influx of visitors for the Review, I've been 'ard put
+to it to squeeze them all in."
+
+Those wretched cowards marched feebly to a new extremity of the table,
+while I walked to my usual seat near the window, with anger flaming
+duskily on my brow. This time I was determined. I would stick to
+table-beer all the same.
+
+But before I dropped into my chair every trace of anger vanished. My
+heart throbbed violently, my dazzled eyes surveyed my _serviette_. At
+my side was one of the most charming girls I had ever met. When the
+Heidsieck came, I raised my glass as in a dream, and silently drank to
+the glorious creature nearest my heart--on the left hand.
+
+We medicos are not easily upset by woman's beauty; we know too well
+what it is made of. But there was something so exquisite about this
+girl's face as to make a hardened materialist hesitate to resolve her
+into a physiological formula. It was not long before I offered to pass
+her the pepper. She declined with thanks and brevity. Her accent
+grated unexpectedly on my ear: I was puzzled to know why. I spoke of
+the rain that still tapped at the window, as if anxious to come in.
+
+"It was raining when I left Paris," she said; "but up till then I had
+a lovely time."
+
+Now I saw what was the matter. She suffered from twang and was
+American. I have always had a prejudice against Americans--chiefly, I
+believe, because they always seem to be having "a lovely time." It was
+with a sense of partial disenchantment that I continued the
+conversation:
+
+"So you have been in Paris?" I said, thinking of the old joke about
+good Americans going there when they die. "I must admit you look as if
+you had come from Heaven!"
+
+"So wretched as all that!" she retorted, laughing merrily. There was
+no twang in the laugh; it was a ripple of music.
+
+"I don't mean an exile from Heaven," I answered: "an excursionist,
+with a return-ticket."
+
+"Oh! but I'm not going back," she said, shaking her lovely head.
+
+"Not even when you die?" I asked, smiling.
+
+"I guess I shall need a warmer climate then!" she flashed back
+audaciously.
+
+"You're too good for that," I answered, without hesitation.
+
+I caught a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes, as she answered:
+
+"Gracious! you're very spry at giving strange folks certificates."
+
+"It's my business to give certificates," I answered, smiling.
+
+"Marriage certificates, my lord?" she asked roguishly.
+
+I was about to answer "Doctors' certificates," but her last two
+syllables froze the words on my lips.
+
+"You--you--know me?" I stammered.
+
+"Yes, your lordship," with a mock bow.
+
+"Why--how--?" I faltered. "You've only just come."
+
+"Jones," she answered.
+
+"Jones!" I repeated, vexed.
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+He glided up and re-filled my glass.
+
+"Jones is a nuisance," I said, when he was out of earshot again.
+
+"Jones is a Britisher!" she said enigmatically. "Surely you don't mind
+people knowing who you are?"
+
+"I'm afraid I do," I replied uneasily.
+
+"I guess your reputation must be real shady," she said, with her
+American candour. "You English lords, we have just about sized you up
+in the States."
+
+"I--I--" I stammered.
+
+"No! don't tell me," she interrupted quickly; "I'd rather not know. My
+aunt here, that lady on my left,--she's a widow and half a Britisher,
+and respectable, don't you know,--will want me to cut you."
+
+"And you don't want to?" I exclaimed eagerly.
+
+"Well, one must talk to somebody," she said, arching her eyebrows.
+"It's all very well for my aunt. She's left her children at home.
+That's happiness enough for her. But that don't make things equally
+lively for me."
+
+"Your language is frank," I said laughingly.
+
+"Yes, that's one of the languages you've forgotten how to speak in
+this old country."
+
+Again that musical ripple of mirth. Her fascination was fast
+enswathing me like another Jones, only a thousandfold more sweetly.
+Already I found her twang delightful, lending the last touch of charm
+to her original utterances. I looked up suddenly, and saw the Infant
+and Towers glaring enviously at me from the other end of the table.
+Then I was quite happy. True, they had the sprightly O'Rafferty
+between them, but he did not seem to console them--rather to chaff
+them.
+
+"Ho! ho!" I roared, when we reached our sitting-room that night.
+"There's virtue in the peerage after all."
+
+"Shut up!" the Infant snarled. "If you think you're going to annex
+that ripping creature, I warn you that bloated aristocracy will have
+to settle up for its marble halls. We're running this thing by
+syndicate, remember."
+
+"Yes, but this isn't part of the profits," I urged defiantly.
+
+"Oh, isn't it?" put in Towers. "Why do you suppose Jones sat her next
+to you, if not as a prerogative of nobility?"
+
+"Well, but if I can get her to go out with me alone, that's a private
+transaction."
+
+"No go, Teddy," said the Infant. "We don't allow you to play for your
+own hand."
+
+"Or hers," added Towers. "While you were spooning, Jones was telling
+us all about her. Her name's Harper--Ethelberta Harper, and her old
+man is a Railway King, or something."
+
+"She's a queen--I don't care of what!" I said fervently. "We got very
+chummy, and I'm going to take her for a row to-morrow morning. It's
+not my fault if she doesn't pal on to you."
+
+"Stow that cant!" cried the Infant. "Either you surrender her to the
+syndicate or pay your own exes. Choose!"
+
+"Well, I'll compromise!" I said desperately.
+
+"No, you don't! It's to prevent your compromising her we want to stand
+in. We'll all go for that row."
+
+"No, listen to my suggestion. I'll invite her to lunch after the row,
+and I'll invite you fellows to meet her."
+
+"But how do you know she'll come?" said Towers.
+
+"She will if I ask her aunt too."
+
+"Scoundrel, you've asked them both already!" cried the Infant.
+"Where's the compromise?"
+
+"I hadn't asked _you_ already," I reminded him.
+
+"No, but now you propose to use the capital of the syndicate!" he
+rejoined sharply.
+
+"Nothing of the kind," I retorted rashly.
+
+So it was settled. I had four guests to lunch, and Jones expanded
+visibly. The Infant and Towers kept Miss Harper pretty well to
+themselves, while I was left to entertain Mrs. Windpeg, a comely but
+tedious lady, who gave me details of her life in England since she
+left New York, a newly married wife, twenty years before. She seemed
+greatly interested in these details. Ethelberta paid no attention to
+her aunt, but a great deal to my friends. Several times I found myself
+gnawing my lip instead of my wing. But I had my revenge at the _table
+d'hôte_. Jones kept my friends remorselessly at bay, and religiously
+guarded my proximity to the lovely American. Strange mental
+revolution! The idea of tipping Jones actually commenced to germinate
+in my mind.
+
+It was on Review-day that I realised I was hopelessly in love. Of
+course my quartet of friends was at the windows of my sitting-room.
+Jones also selected this room to see the Review from, and I fancy he
+regaled my visitors with delicate refreshments throughout the day, and
+I remember being vaguely glad that he made amends for the general
+neglect of Mrs. Windpeg by offering her the choicest titbits; but I
+have no clear recollection of anything but Ethelberta. Her face was my
+Review, though there was no powder on it. The play of light on her
+cheeks and hair was all the manoeuvres I cared for--the pearls of
+her mouth were my ranged rows of ships; and when everybody else was
+peering hopelessly into the thick smoke, my eyes were feasting on the
+sunshine of her face. I did not hear the cannon, nor the long, endless
+clamour of the packed streets, only the soft words she spoke from time
+to time.
+
+"To-morrow morning I must go away," I murmured to her at dinner. I
+fancied she grew paler, but I could not be sure, for Jones at that
+moment changed my plate.
+
+"I am sorry," she said simply. "Must you go?"
+
+"Yes," I answered sadly. "My beautiful holiday is over. To-morrow, to
+work."
+
+"I thought, for you lords, life was one long holiday," she said,
+surprised.
+
+I was glad of the reminder. My love was hopeless. A struggling doctor
+could not ask for the hand of an heiress. Even if he could, it would
+be a poor recommendation to start with a confession of imposture. To
+ask, without confessing, were to become a scoundrel and a
+fortune-hunter of the lowest type. No; better to pass from her ken,
+leaving her memory of me untainted by suspicion--leaving my memory of
+her an idyllic, unfinished dream. And yet I could not help reflecting,
+with agony, that if I had not begun under false colours, if I had come
+to her only as what I was, I might have dared to ask for her
+love--yea, and perhaps have won it. Oh, how weak I had been not to
+tell her from the first! As if she would not have appreciated the
+joke! As if she would not have enrolled herself joyously in the
+campaign against Jones!
+
+"Ah! my life will be anything but a long holiday, I fear," I sighed.
+
+"Say, you're not an hereditary legislator?" she asked.
+
+"Legislation is not the hereditary disease I complain of," I said
+evasively.
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Love!" I replied desperately.
+
+She laughed gaily.
+
+"I guess that's an original view of love."
+
+"Why? My parents suffered from it: at least, I hope they did."
+
+"Doubtful! Your Upper Ten is usually supposed to have cured marriage
+of it."
+
+She bent her head over her plate, so that I strove in vain to read her
+eyes.
+
+"Well, it's a beastly shame," I said. "Don't you think so, Miss
+Harper--Ethelberta? May I call you Ethelberta?"
+
+"If it gives you any comfort," she said plumply.
+
+"It gives me more than comfort," I rejoined.
+
+A wild hope flamed in my breast. What if she loved me after all! I
+would speak the word. But no! If she did, I had won her love under a
+false glamour of nobility. Better, far better, to keep both my secrets
+in my own breast. Besides, had I not seen she was a flirt? I continued
+to call her Ethelberta, but that was all. When we rose from table I
+had not spoken; knowing that my friends would claim my society for the
+rest of the evening, I held out my hand in final farewell. She took
+it. Her own hand was hot. I clasped it for a moment, gazing into the
+wonderful blue eyes; then I let it go, and all was over.
+
+"I do believe Teddy is hit!" Towers said when I came into our room,
+whither they had preceded me.
+
+"Rot!" I said, turning my face away. "A seasoned bachelor like me.
+Heigho! I shall be awfully glad to get to work again to-morrow."
+
+"Yes," said the Infant. "I see from the statistics that the mortality
+of your district has declined frightfully. That Robins must be a
+regular duffer."
+
+"I'll soon set that right!" I exclaimed, with a forced grin.
+
+"She certainly is a stunner," Towers mused.
+
+"Hullo! I'm afraid it's Merton that's damaged," I laughed
+boisterously.
+
+"Well, if she wasn't an heiress--" began Towers slowly.
+
+"She might have you," finished the Infant. "But I say, boys, we'd
+better ask for our bills; we've got to be off in the morning by the
+8.5. Jones mightn't be up when we leave."
+
+The room echoed with sardonic laughter at the idea. There was no need
+to ring for Jones; he found two pretexts an hour to come and gaze upon
+me. When my bill came, I went to the window for air and to hide my
+face from Jones.
+
+"All right, Jones!" cried the Infant, guessing what was up. "We'll
+leave it on the table before we go to bed."
+
+"Well?" my friends enquired eagerly, when Jones had crawled off.
+
+"Twenty-seven pounds two and tenpence!" I groaned, letting the
+accursed paper drift helplessly to the floor.
+
+"D----d reasonable!" said the Infant.
+
+"You would go it!" Towers added soothingly.
+
+"Reasonable or not," I said, "I've only got six pounds in my pockets."
+
+"You said you brought ten," said Towers.
+
+"Yes! but what of carriage-sails and yacht-drives?" I cried
+agitatedly.
+
+"You're drunk," said the Infant brutally. "However, I suppose, before
+going into dividing exes we must get together the gross sum."
+
+It was easier said than done. When every farthing had been scraped
+together, we were thirteen pounds short on the three bills. We held a
+long council of war, discussing the possibilities of surreptitious
+pledging--the unspeakable Jones, playing his blindfold game, had
+reduced us to pawn--but even these were impracticable.
+
+"Confound you!" cried Merton Towers. "Why didn't you think of the bill
+before?"
+
+As if I had not better things to think of!
+
+The horror of facing Jones in the morning drove us to the most
+desperate devices; but none seemed workable.
+
+"There's only one way left of getting the coin, Teddy," said the
+Infant at last.
+
+"What's that?" I cried eagerly.
+
+"Ask the heiress."
+
+It was an ambiguous phrase, but in whatever sense he meant it, it was
+a cruel and unmanly thrust; in my indignation I saw light.
+
+"What fools we have been!" I shouted. "It's as easy as A B C. I'm not
+in an office like you, bound to be back to the day--I stay on over
+to-morrow, and you send me on the money from town."
+
+"Where are we to get it from?" growled Towers.
+
+"Anywhere! anybody!" I cried excitedly; "I'll write to Robins at once
+for it."
+
+"Why not wire?" said the Infant.
+
+"I don't see the necessity for wasting sixpence," I said; "we must be
+economical. Besides, Jones would read the wire."
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE WINNING MOVE.
+
+Time slipped on; but I could not tear myself away from this enchanted
+hotel. The departure of my friends allowed me to be nearly all day
+with Ethelberta.
+
+I had drowned reason and conscience: day followed day in a golden
+languor and the longer I stopped, the harder it was to go. At last
+Robins's telegrams became too imperative to be disregarded, and even
+my second supply of money would not suffice for another day.
+
+The bitter experience of parting had to be faced again; the miserable
+evening, when I had first called her Ethelberta, had to be repeated.
+We spoke little at dinner; afterwards, as I had not my friends to go
+to this time, we left Mrs. Windpeg sitting over her dessert, and
+paced up and down in the little cultivated enclosure which separated
+the hotel from the parade. It was a balmy evening; the moon was up,
+silvering the greenery, stretching a rippling band across the sea, and
+touching Ethelberta's face to a more marvellous fairness. The air was
+heavy with perfume; everything combined to soften my mood. Tears came
+into my eyes as I thought that this was the very last respite. Those
+tears seemed to purge my vision: I saw the beauty of truth and
+sincerity, and felt that I could not go away without telling her who I
+really was; then, in future years, whatever she thought of me, I, at
+least, could think of her sacredly, with no cloud of falseness between
+me and her.
+
+"Ethelberta!" I said, in low trembling tones.
+
+"Lord Everett!" she murmured responsively.
+
+"I have a confession to make."
+
+She flushed and lowered her eyes.
+
+"No, no!" she said agitatedly; "spare me that confession. I have heard
+it so often; it is so conventional. Let us part friends."
+
+She looked up into my face with that frank, heavenly glance of hers.
+It shook my resolution, but I recovered myself and went on:
+
+"It is not a conventional confession. I was not going to say I love
+you."
+
+"No?" she murmured.
+
+Was it the tricksy play of the moon among the clouds, or did a shade
+of disappointment flit across her face? Were her words genuine, or was
+she only a coquette? I stopped not to analyse; I paused not to
+enquire; I forgot everything but the loveliness that intoxicated me.
+
+"I--I--mean I was!" I stammered awkwardly; "I have loved you from the
+first moment I saw you."
+
+I strove to take her hand; but she drew it away haughtily.
+
+"Lord Everett, it is impossible! Say no more."
+
+The twang dropped from her speech in her dignity; her accents rang
+pure and sweet.
+
+"Why not?" I cried passionately. "Why is it impossible? You seemed to
+care for me."
+
+She was silent; at last she answered slowly:
+
+"You are a lord! I cannot marry a lord."
+
+My heart gave a great leap, then I felt cold as ice.
+
+"Because I am a lord?" I murmured wonderingly.
+
+"Yes! I--I--flirted with you at first out of pure fun--believe me,
+that was the truth. If I loved you now," her words were tremulous and
+almost inaudible, "it would be right that I should be punished. We
+must never meet again. Good-bye!"
+
+She stood still and extended her hand.
+
+I touched it with my icy fingers.
+
+"Oh! if you had only let me confess just now what I wanted to!" I
+cried in agony.
+
+"Confess what?" she said. "Have you not confessed?"
+
+"No! You may disbelieve me now; but I wanted to tell you that I am not
+a lord at all, that I only became one through Jones."
+
+Her lovely eyes dilated with surprise. I explained briefly,
+confusedly.
+
+She laughed, but there was a catch in her voice.
+
+"Listen!" she said hurriedly, starting pacing again; "I, too, have a
+confession to make. Jones has corrupted me too. I'm not an heiress at
+all, nor even an American--just a moderately successful London
+actress, resting a few weeks, and Mrs. Windpeg is only my companion
+and general factotum, the widow of a drunken stage-carpenter, who left
+her without resources, poor thing. But we had hardly crossed the
+steps of the hotel, before Jones mentioned Lord Everett was in the
+place, and buzzed the name so in our ears that the idea of a wild
+frolic flashed into my head. I am a great flirt, you know, and I
+thought that while I had the chance I would test the belief that
+English lords always fall in love with American heiresses."
+
+"It was no test," I interrupted. "A Chinese Mandarin would fall in
+love with you equally."
+
+"I let Mrs. Windpeg tell Jones all about me--imaginatively," she went
+on with a sad smile; "I told her to call me Harper, because _Harper's
+Magazine_ came into my mind. But it was Jones who seated us together.
+I will believe that you took a genuine liking to me; still, it was a
+foolish freak on both sides, and we must both forget it as soon as
+possible."
+
+"I can never forget it!" I said passionately; "I love you; and I dare
+to think you care for me, though while you fancied I was a peer you
+stifled the feeling that had grown up despite you. Believe me, I
+understand the purity of your motives, and love you the more for
+them."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Good-bye!" she faltered.
+
+"I will not say 'good-bye'! I have little to offer you, but it
+includes a heart that is aching for you. There is no reason now why we
+should part."
+
+Her lips were white in the moonlight.
+
+"I never said I loved you," she murmured.
+
+"Not in so many words," I admitted; "but why did you let me call you
+Ethelberta?" I asked passionately.
+
+"Because it is not my name," she answered; and a ghost of the old gay
+smile lit up the lovely features.
+
+I stood for a moment dumbfounded. Unconsciously we had come to a
+standstill under the window of the dining-room.
+
+She took advantage of my consternation to say more lightly:
+
+"Come, let us part friends."
+
+I dimly understood that, in some subtle way I was too coarse to
+comprehend, she was ashamed of the part she had played throughout,
+that she would punish herself by renunciation. I knew not what to say;
+I saw the happiness of my life fading before my eyes. She held out her
+hand for the last time and I clasped it mechanically. So we stood,
+silent.
+
+"What does that matter, Mrs. Windpeg? You're a real lady, that's
+enough for me. It wasn't because I thought you had money that I
+ventured to raise my eyes to you."
+
+We started. It was the voice of Jones. Mrs. Windpeg had evidently
+lingered too long over her dessert.
+
+"But I tell you I have nothing at all--nothing!" came the voice of
+Mrs. Windpeg.
+
+"I don't want it. You see, I'm like you--not what I seem. This place
+belongs to me, only I was born and bred a waiter in this very hotel,
+and I don't see why the 'ouse shouldn't profit by the tips instead of
+a stranger. My son does the show part; but he ain't fit for anything
+but reading Dickens and other low-class writers, and I feel the want
+of a real lady, knowing the ways of the aristocrats. What with Lord
+Porchester and Lord Everett, it looks as if this hotel is going to be
+fashionable and I know there's lots of 'igh-class wrinkles I ain't
+picked up yet. Only lately I was flummoxed by a gent asking for a
+liqueur I'd never 'eard of. You're mixed up with tip-top swells; I
+loved you from the moment I saw you fold your first _serviette_. I'm a
+widower, you're a widow. Let bygones be bygones. Why shouldn't we make
+a match of it?"
+
+We looked at each other and laughed; false subtleties were swept away
+by a wave of mutual merriment.
+
+"'Let bygones be bygones. Why shouldn't we make a match of it?'" I
+echoed. "Jones is right." I tightened my grasp of her hand and drew
+her towards me, almost without resistance. "You're going to lose your
+companion, you'll want another."
+
+Her lovely face came nearer and nearer.
+
+"Besides," I said gaily, "I understand you're out of an engagement."
+
+"Thanks," she said; "I don't care for an engagement in the Provinces,
+and I have sworn never to marry in the profession: they're a bad lot."
+
+"Call me an actor?"
+
+My lips were almost on hers.
+
+"You played Lord Dundreary--not unforgivably."
+
+Our lips met!
+
+"Oh, Augustus," came the voice of Mrs. Windpeg, "I feel so faint with
+happiness!"
+
+"Loose your arms a moment, my popsy. I'll fetch you a drop of
+Damtidam!" answered the voice of Jones.
+
+
+
+
+_The Principal Boy._
+
+
+I.
+
+To sit out a play is a bore; to sit out a dance demands less patience.
+Even when you do it merely to prevent your partner dancing with you,
+it is the less disagreeable alternative. But it sometimes makes you
+giddier than galoping. Frank Redhill lost his head--a well-built
+head--completely through indulging in it; and without the head to look
+after it, the heart soon goes. He held Lucy's little hand in his hot
+clasp. She wished he would get himself gloves large enough not to
+split at the thumbs, and felt quite affectionate towards the dear,
+untidy boy. As a woman almost out of her teens, she could permit
+herself a motherly feeling for a lad who had but just attained his
+majority. The little thing looked very sweet in a demure dress of
+nun's veiling, which Frank would have described as "white robes." For
+he was only an undergraduate. Some undergraduates are past masters in
+the science and art of woman; but Frank was not in that set. Nor did
+he herd with the athletic, who drift mainly into the unpaid
+magistracy, nor with the worldly, who usually go in for the church. He
+was a reading man. Only he did not stick to the curriculum, but fed
+himself on the conceits of the poets, and thirsted to redeem mankind.
+So he got a second-class. But this is anticipating. Perhaps Lucy had
+been anticipating, too. At any rate she went through the scene as
+admirably as if she had rehearsed for it. And yet it was presumably
+the first time she had been asked to say: "I love you"--that wonderful
+little phrase, so easy to say and so hard to believe. Still, Lucy said
+and Frank believed it.
+
+Not that Lucy did not share his belief. It must be for love that she
+was conceding Frank her hand--since her mother objected to the match.
+As the nephew of a peer, Frank could give her rather better society
+than she now enjoyed, even if he could not give her that of the peer,
+who had an hereditary feud with him. Of course she could not marry him
+yet, he was quite too poor for that, but he was a young man of
+considerable talents--which are after all gold pieces. When fame and
+fortune came to him, Lucy would come and join the party. _En
+attendant_, their souls would be wed. They kissed each other
+passionately, sealing the contract of souls with the red sealing-wax
+of burning lips. To them in Paradise entered the Guardian Angel with
+flaming countenance, and drove them into the outer darkness of the
+brilliant ball-room.
+
+"My dear," said the Guardian Angel, who was Lucy Grayling's mother,
+"there is going to be an interval, and Mrs. Bayswater is so anxious
+for you to give that sweet recitation from Racine."
+
+So Lucy declaimed one of Athalie's terrible speeches in a way that
+enthralled those who understood it, and made those who didn't,
+enthusiastic.
+
+The applause did not seem to gratify the Guardian Angel as much as
+usual. Lucy wondered how much she had seen, and, disliking useless
+domestic discussion, extorted a promise of secrecy from her lover
+before they parted. He did not care about keeping anything from his
+father--especially something of which his approval was dubious. Still,
+all's fair and honourable in love--or love makes it seem so.
+
+Frank took a solemn view of engagement, and embraced Lucy in his
+general scheme for the redemption of mankind. He felt she was a sacred
+as well as a precious charge, and he promised himself to attend to her
+spiritual salvation in so far as her pure instincts needed guidance.
+He directed her reading in bulky letters bearing the Oxford post-mark.
+Meantime, Lucy disapproved of his neckties. She thought he would be
+even nicer with a loving wife to look after his wardrobe.
+
+
+II.
+
+When Frank achieved the indistinction of a second-class, as
+prematurely revealed, he went to Canada, and became a farm-pupil. It
+was not that his physique warranted the work, but there seemed no way
+in the old country of making enough money to marry Lucy (much less to
+redeem mankind) on. He was suffering, too, at the moment from a
+disgust with the schools, and a sentimental yearning to "return to
+nature."
+
+The parting with Lucy was bitter, but he carried her bright image in
+his heart, and wrote to her by every mail. In Canada he did not look
+at a woman, as the saying goes; true, the opportunities were scant on
+the lonely log-farm. Absence, distance, lent the last touch of
+idealisation and enchantment to his conception of Lucy. She stood to
+him not only for Womanhood and Purity, but for England, Home, and
+Beauty. Nay, the thought of her was even Culture, when the evening
+found him too worn with physical toil to read a page of the small
+library he had brought with him. He saw his way to profitable farming
+on his own account in a few years' time. Then Lucy would come out to
+him, if they should be too impatient to wait till he had made money
+enough to go to her.
+
+Lucy's letters did nothing to disabuse him of his ideals or his aims.
+They were charming, affectionate, and intellectual. Midway, in the
+batch he treasured more than eastern jewels, the sheets began to wear
+mourning for Lucy's mother. The Guardian Angel was gone--whether to
+continue the rôle none could say. Frank comforted the orphaned girl as
+best he could with epistolary kisses and condolences, and hoped she
+would get along pleasantly with her aunt till the necessity for that
+good relative vanished. And so the correspondence went on, Lucy's mind
+improving visibly under her lover's solicitous guidance. Then one day
+Redhill the elder cabled that by the death of his brother and nephew
+within a few days of each other, he had become Lord Redhill, and Frank
+consequently heir to a fine old peerage, and with an heir's income.
+Whereupon Frank returned forthwith from nature to civilisation. Now he
+could marry Lucy (and redeem mankind) immediately. Only he did not
+tell Lucy he was coming. He could not deny himself (or her) the
+pleasure of so pleasurable a surprise.
+
+
+III.
+
+It was a cold evening in early November when Frank's hansom drove up
+to the little house near Bond Street, where Lucy's aunt resided. He
+had not been to see his father yet; Lucy's angel-face hovered before
+him, warming the wintry air, and drawing him onwards towards the roof
+that sheltered her. The house was new to him; and as he paused outside
+for a moment, striving to still his emotion, his eye caught sight of a
+little placard in the window of the ground floor, inscribed
+"Apartments." He shuddered, a pang akin to self-reproach shot through
+him. Lucy's aunt was poor, was reduced to letting lodgings. Lucy
+herself had, perhaps, been left penniless. Delicacy had restrained her
+from alluding to her poverty in her letter. He had taken everything
+too much for granted--surely, straitened as were his means, he should
+have proffered her some assistance. A suspicion that he lacked worldly
+wisdom dawned upon him for the first time, as he rang the bell. Poor
+little Lucy! Well, whatever she had gone through, the bright days were
+come at last. The ocean which had severed them for so many weary moons
+no longer rolled between them--thank God, only the panels of the
+street-door divided them now. In another instant that darling head--no
+more the haunting elusive phantom of dream--would be upon his breast.
+Then as the door opened, the thought flashed upon him that she might
+not be in--the idea of waiting a single moment longer for her turned
+him sick. But his fears vanished at the encouraging expression on the
+face of the maid servant who opened the door.
+
+"Miss Gray's upstairs," she mumbled, without waiting for him to speak.
+And, all intelligent reflection swamped by a great wave of joy, he
+followed her up one narrow flight of stairs, and passed eagerly into a
+room to which she pointed. It was a bright, cosy room, prettily
+furnished, and a cheerful fire crackled on the hearth. There were
+books and flowers about, and engravings on the walls. The little round
+table was laid for tea. Everything smiled "welcome." But these details
+only gradually penetrated Frank's consciousness--for the moment all he
+saw was that _She_ was not there. Then he became aware of the fire,
+and moved involuntarily towards it, and held his hands over it, for
+they were almost numbed with the cold. Straightening himself again, he
+was startled by his own white face in the glass.
+
+He gazed at it dreamily, and beyond it towards the folding-doors,
+which led into an adjoining room. His eyes fixed themselves fascinated
+upon these reflected doors, and strayed no more. It was through them
+that she would come.
+
+Suddenly a dreadful thought occurred to him. When she came through
+those doors, what would be the effect of his presence upon her? Would
+not the sudden shock, joyful though it was, upset the fragile little
+beauty? Had he not even heard of people dying from joy? Why had he not
+prepared her for his return, if only to the tiniest extent? The
+suspicion that he lacked worldly wisdom gained in force. Tumultuous
+suggestions of retreat crossed his mind--but before he could move, the
+folding-doors in the mirror flew apart, and a radiant image dashed
+lightly through them. It was a vision of dazzling splendour that made
+his eyes blink--a beautiful glittering figure in tights and tinsel,
+the prancing prince of pantomime. For an infinitesimal fraction of a
+second, Frank had the horror of the thought that he had come into the
+wrong house.
+
+"Good evening, George," the Prince cried: "I had almost given you up."
+
+Great God! Was the voice, indeed, Lucy's? Frank grasped at the mantel,
+sick and blind, the world tumbling about his ears. The suspicion that
+he lacked worldly wisdom became a certainty. Slowly he turned his head
+to face the waves of dazzling colour that tossed before his dizzy
+eyes.
+
+The Prince's outstretched hand dropped suddenly. A startled shriek
+broke from the painted lips. The re-united lovers stood staring half
+blindly at each other. More than the Atlantic rolled between them.
+
+Lucy broke the terrible silence.
+
+"Brute!"
+
+It was his welcome home.
+
+"Brute?" he echoed interrogatively, in a low, hoarse whisper.
+
+"Brute and cad!" said the Prince vehemently, the musical tones
+strident with anger. "Is this your faith, your loyalty--to sneak back
+home like a thief--to peep through the keyhole to see if I was a good
+little girl--?"
+
+"Lucy! Don't!" he interrupted in anguished tones. "As there is a
+heaven above us, I had no suspicion--"
+
+"But you have now," the Prince interrupted with a bitter laugh.
+Neither made any attempt to touch the other, though they were but a
+few inches apart. "Out with it!"
+
+"Lucy, I have nothing to say against you. How should I? I know
+nothing. It is for you to speak. For pity's sake tell me all. What is
+this masquerade?"
+
+"This masquerade?" She touched her pink tights--he shuddered at the
+touch. "These are--" She paused. Why not tell the easy lie and be done
+with the whole business, and marry the dear, devoted boy? But the mad
+instinct of revolt and resentment swept over her in a flood that
+dragged the truth from her heart and hurled it at him. "These are the
+legs of Prince Prettypet. If I am lucky, I shall stand on them in the
+pantomime of _The Enchanted Princess; or, Harlequin Dick Turpin_, at
+the Oriental Theatre. The man who has the casting of the part is
+coming to see how I look."
+
+"You have gone on the stage?"
+
+"Yes; I couldn't live on your lectures," Prince Prettypet said, still
+in the same resentful tone. "I couldn't fritter away the little
+capital I had when mamma died, and then wait for starvation. I had no
+useful accomplishments. I could only recite--_Athalie_."
+
+"But surely your aunt--"
+
+"Is a fiction. Had she been a fact it would have been all the same. I
+had had enough of mamma. No more leading-strings!"
+
+"Lucy! And you wept over her so in your letters?"
+
+"Crocodile's tears. Heavens, are women to have no lives of their own?"
+
+"Oh, why did you not write to me of your difficulties?" he groaned. "I
+would have come over and fetched you--we would have borne poverty
+together."
+
+"Yes," the Prince said mockingly. "''E was werry good to me, 'e was.'
+Do you think I could submit to government by a prig?"
+
+He started as if stung. The little tinselled figure, looking taller in
+its swashbuckling habits, stared at him defiantly.
+
+"Tell me," he said brokenly, "have you made a living?"
+
+"No. If truth must be told, Lucy Gray--docked at the tail, sir--hasn't
+made enough to keep Lucy Grayling in theatrical costumes. I got plenty
+of kudos in the Provinces, but two of my managers were bogus."
+
+"Yes?" he said vaguely.
+
+"No treasury, don't you know? Ghost didn't walk. No oof, rhino,
+shiners, coin, cash, salary!"
+
+"Do I understand you have travelled about the country by yourself?"
+
+"By myself! What, in a company? You've picked up Irish in America. Ha!
+ha! ha!"
+
+"You know what I mean, Lucy." It seemed strange to call this new
+person Lucy, but "Miss Grayling" would have sounded just as strange.
+
+"Oh, there was sure to be a married lady--with her husband--in the
+troupe, poor thing!" The Prince had a roguish twinkle in the eye. "And
+surely I am old enough to take care of myself. Still, I felt you
+wouldn't like it. That's why I was anxious to get a London
+appearance--if only in East-end pantomime. The money's safe, and your
+notices are more valuable. I only want a show to take the town. I do
+hope George won't disappoint me. I thought you were he."
+
+"Who is George?" he said slowly, as if in pain.
+
+The shrill clamour of the bell answered him.
+
+"There he is!" said the Prince joyfully. "George is only Georgie
+Spanner, stage-manager of the Oriental. I have been besieging him for
+two days. Bella Bright, who had to play Prince Prettypet, has gone and
+eloped with the property-man, and as soon as I heard of it, I got a
+letter of introduction to Georgie Spanner, and he said I was too
+little, and I said that was nonsense--that I had played in burlesque
+at Eastbourne--Come in!"
+
+[Illustration: THE STAGE-MANAGER.]
+
+"Are you at home, miss?" said the maid, putting her head inside the
+door.
+
+"Certainly, Fanny. That's Mr. Spanner I told you of--" The girl's head
+looked puzzled as it removed itself. "And so he said if I would put my
+things on, he would try and run down for an hour this evening, and see
+if I looked the part."
+
+"And couldn't all that be done at the theatre?"
+
+"Of course it could. But it's ten times more convenient for me here.
+And it's very considerate of Georgie to come all this way--he's a very
+busy man, I can tell you."
+
+The street-door slammed loudly.
+
+A sudden paroxysm shook Frank's frame. "Lucy, send this man away--for
+God's sake." In his excitement he came nearer, he laid his hand
+pleadingly upon the glittering shoulder. The Prince trembled a little
+under his touch, and stood as in silent hesitancy. The stairs creaked
+under heavy footsteps.
+
+"Go to your room," he said more imperatively. Even in the wreck of his
+ideal, it was an added bitterness to think that limbs whose
+shapeliness had never even occurred to him, should be made a public
+spectacle. "Put on decent clothes."
+
+It was the wrong chord to touch. The Prince burst into a boisterous
+laugh. "Silly old MacDougall!"
+
+The footsteps were painfully near.
+
+"You are mad," Frank whispered hoarsely. "You are killing me--you whom
+I throned as an angel of light; you who were the first woman in the
+world--"
+
+"And now I'm going to be the Principal Boy," she laughed quietly back.
+"Is that you, dear old chap? Come in, George."
+
+The door opened--Frank, disgusted, heart-broken, moved back towards
+the window-curtains. A corpulent, beef-faced, double-chinned man, with
+a fat cigar and a fur overcoat, came in.
+
+"How do, Lucy? Cold, eh? What, in your togs? That's right."
+
+"There, you bad man! Don't I look ripping?"
+
+"Stunning, Lucy," he said, approaching her.
+
+"Well, then, down on your knees, George, and apologise for saying I
+was too little."
+
+"Well, I see more of you now, he! he! he! Yes, you'll do. What swell
+diggings!"
+
+"Come to the fire. Take that easy-chair. There, that's right, old man.
+Now, what is it to be? There's tea laid--you've let it get cold,
+unpunctual ruffian. Perhaps you'd like a brandy and soda better?"
+
+"M' yes."
+
+She rang the bell. "So glad--because there's only tea for two, and I
+know my friend would prefer tea," with a sneering intonation. "Let me
+introduce you--Mr. Redhill, Mr. Spanner, you have heard of Mr.
+Spanner, the celebrated author and stage-manager?"
+
+The celebrated author and stage-manager half rose in his easy-chair,
+startled, and not over-pleased. The pale-faced rival visitor, half
+hidden in the curtains, inclined his head stiffly, then moved towards
+the door.
+
+"Oh, no, don't run away like that, without a cup of tea, in this
+bitter weather. Mr. Spanner won't mind talking business before you,
+will you, George? Such a dear old friend, you know."
+
+It was a merry tea-party. Lucy rattled away bewitchingly, overpowering
+Mr. Spanner like an embodied brandy and soda. The slang of the green
+room and the sporting papers rolled musically off her tongue, grating
+on Frank's ear like the scraping of slate pencils. He had not insight
+enough to divine that she was accentuating her vulgar acquirements to
+torture him. Spanner went at last--for the Oriental boards claimed
+him--leaving behind him as nearly definite a promise of the part as a
+stage-manager can ever bring himself to utter. Lucy accompanied him
+downstairs. When she returned, Frank was still sitting as she had left
+him--one hand playing with the spoon in his cup, the rest of the body
+lethargic, immobile. She bent over him tenderly.
+
+"Frank!" she whispered.
+
+He shivered and looked up at the lovely face, daubed with rouge and
+pencilled at the eyebrows with black--as for the edification of the
+distant "gods." He lowered his eyes again, and said slowly: "Lucy, I
+have come back to marry you. What date will be most convenient to
+you?"
+
+"You want to marry me," she echoed in low tones. "All the same!" A
+strange wonderful light came into her eyes. The big lashes were
+threaded with glistening tears. She put her little hand caressingly
+upon his hair, and was silent.
+
+"Yes! it is an old promise. It shall be kept."
+
+"Ah!" She drew her hand away with an inarticulate cry. "Like a duty
+dance, but you do not love me?"
+
+He ignored the point. "I am rich now--my father has unexpectedly
+become Lord Redhill--you probably heard it!"
+
+"You don't love me! You can't love me!" It sounded like the cry of a
+soul in despair.
+
+"So there's no need for either of us to earn a living."
+
+"But you don't love me! You only want to save me."
+
+"Well, of course Lord Redhill wouldn't like his daughter-in-law to
+be--"
+
+"The Principal Boy--ha! ha! ha! But what--ho! ho! ho! I must laugh,
+Frank, old man, it _is_ so funny--what about the Principal Boy? Do you
+think he'd cotton to the idea of marrying a peer in embryo! Not if
+Lucy Gray knows it; no, by Jove! Why, when your coronet came along, I
+should have to leave the stage, or else people 'ud be saying I
+couldn't act worth a cent. They'd class me with Lady London and Lady
+Hansard--oh, Lord! Fancy me on the Drury Lane bills--Prince Prettypet,
+Lady Redhill. And then, great Scot, think whom they'd class you with.
+Ha! ha! ha! No, my boy, I'm not going to marry a microcephalous idiot.
+Ho! ho! ho! I wish somebody would put all this in a farce."
+
+"Do I understand that you wish to break off the engagement?" Frank
+said slowly, a note of surprise in his voice.
+
+"You've hit it--now that I hear about this peerage business--why
+didn't you tell me before? I'm out of all the gossip of court circles,
+and it wasn't in the _Era_. No, I might have redeemed my promise to a
+commoner, but a lord, ugh! I never had your sense of duty, Frank, and
+must really cry 'quits.' Now you see the value of secret
+engagements--ours is off, and nobody will be the wiser--or the worse.
+Now get thee to his lordship--concealment, like a worm i' the bud, no
+longer preying upon thy damask cheek. I was alway sorry you had to
+keep it from the old buffer. But it was for the best, wasn't it?--ha!
+ha!--it was for the best! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"
+
+Frank fled down the staircase followed by long peals of musical
+laughter. They followed him into the bleak night, which had no frost
+for him; but they became less musical as they rang on, and as the
+terrified maid and the landlady strove in vain to allay the hysterical
+tempest.
+
+
+IV.
+
+The Oriental, on Boxing Night, was like a baker's oven for
+temperature, and an unopened sardine-barrel for populousness. The
+East-end had poured its rollicking multitudes into the vast theatre,
+which seethed over with noisy vitality. There was much traffic in
+ginger beer, oranges, Banbury cakes, and "bitter." The great audience
+roared itself hoarse over old choruses with new words. Lucy Gray, as
+Prince Prettypet, made an instant success. The mashers of the Oriental
+ogled her in silent flattery. Her clear elocution, her charming
+singing voice, her sprightly dancing, her _chic_, her frank vulgarity,
+when she "let herself go," took every heart captive. Every heart, that
+is, save one, which was filled with sickness and anguish, and covered
+with a veil of fine linen. The heir of the house of Redhill cowered at
+the back of the O.P. stage-box--the only place in the house disengaged
+when he drove up in a mistaken dress-suit. It was the first time he
+had seen Prince Prettypet since the merry tea-party, and he did not
+know why he was seeing her now. He hoped she did not see him. She
+pirouetted up to the front of his box pretty often during the evening,
+and several times hurled ancient wheezes at the riotous funnymen from
+that coign of vantage. Spoken so near his ear, the vulgar jokes
+tingled through him like lashes from a whip. Once she sang a chorus,
+winking in his direction. But that was the business of the song, and
+impersonal. He saw no sure signs of recognition, and was glad.
+
+[Illustration: THE ORIENTAL ON BOXING NIGHT.]
+
+When, during the gradual but gorgeous evolution of the Transformation
+Scene, he received a note from her, he remained glad. It ran, "The
+bearer will take you behind. I have no one to see me home. Always your
+friend--Lucy." He went "behind," following his guide through a
+confusion of coatless carpenters waving torches of blue and green fire
+from the wings, and gauzy, highly coloured Whitechapel girls
+ensconcing themselves in uncomfortable attitudes on wooden pedestals,
+which were mounting and descending.
+
+Georgie Spanner was bustling about, half crazed, amid a hubbub
+perfectly inaudible from the front; but he found time to scowl at
+Frank, as that gentleman stumbled over the pantaloon and fell against
+a little iron lever, whose turning might have plunged the stage in
+darkness. Frank found Lucy in a tiny cellar with whitewashed walls and
+a rough counter, on which stood a tin basin and a litter of "make up"
+materials. She had "changed" before he came. It was the first time for
+years he had seen her in her true womanly envelope. Assuredly she had
+grown far lovelier, and her face was flushed with triumph; otherwise
+it was the old Lucy. The Prince was washed off with the paint.
+
+Frank's eyes filled with tears. How hard he had been on her! Nay, had
+he not misjudged her? She looked so frail, so little, so childish,
+what guile could she know? It was all mere surface-froth on her lips!
+How narrow to set up his life, his ideals, as models, patterns! The
+poor little thing had her own tastes, her own individuality! How hard
+she worked to earn her own living! He bent down and kissed her
+forehead, remorsefully, as one might kiss an overscolded child. She
+drew his head down lower and kissed him--passionately--on the lips.
+"Let us wait a little," she said, as he spoke of sending for a hansom.
+"Sloman, the lessee, gives a little supper on the stage after the
+show--he'll be annoyed if I don't stay. He'll be delighted to have
+you."
+
+The pantomime had gone better than anyone had expected. It had been
+insufficiently rehearsed, and though everybody had said "it'll be all
+right at night"--in the immemorial phrase of the profession--they had
+said it more automatically than confidently. Consequently everyone was
+in high feather, and agreeably surprised at the accuracy of the
+prophesying. Even Georgie Spanner ceased to scowl under the genial
+influences of success and Sloman's very decent champagne. The air was
+full of laughter and gaiety, and everybody (except the clown) cracked
+jokes. The leading ladies made themselves pleasant, and did not swear.
+Everybody seemed to have acquired a new respect for Lucy, seeing her
+with such a real Belgravian swell. Probably she would soon have a
+theatre of her own.
+
+It was the Prig's first excursion into Bohemia, and he thought the
+natives very civil-spoken, naïve, and cordial. Frank had no doubt now
+that Lucy was right, that he was a Prig to want to redeem mankind. And
+the conviction that he lacked worldly wisdom was sealed for aye.
+
+
+V.
+
+So he married her.
+
+
+
+
+_An Odd Life._
+
+
+It was the most curious case of croup I had ever attended. Not that
+there was anything unusual about the symptoms--they were so correct as
+to be devoid of the slightest interest. Certainly they were not worth
+while being called up for in the middle of the night. The patient it
+was that attracted my attention. He was a handsome baby of one year
+and nine months--by name Willy Streetside--with such an expression of
+candour and intelligence that I was moved to see him suffer. I sat
+down by his bedside, took his poor little feverish hand, and felt the
+weak quick pulse, and knew it had not much longer to beat. I put the
+glass of barley and water to his lips, and he drank eagerly. He seemed
+to be an orphan, in charge of a strange, silent serving-man,
+apparently the only other occupant of the luxurious and artistically
+furnished flat. I judged Downton to be a man of some culture, from the
+latest magazines strewn about the bedroom; but I could not help
+thinking that a female, more familiar with infantile ailments, might
+have been more useful. Apathetic and torpid though I was, from
+eighteen hours' continuous activity in a hundred sickrooms, my eyes
+filled with tears, and I sat for an instant, holding the little hand,
+listening to the poor child's painful breathing, and speculating on
+the mystery of that existence so early recalled. All his organs were
+sound. But for this accidental croup, I told myself, he might have
+lived till eighty. "Poor Willy Streetside!" I murmured, for his
+curious name clung to my memory.
+
+Suddenly the baby turned his blue eyes full on me, and said:
+
+"I suppose it's all up, doctor?"
+
+I started violently, and let go his hand. The words were perhaps not
+altogether beyond the capacity of an infant; but the air of manly
+resignation with which they were uttered was astonishing. For more
+reasons than one, I hesitated.
+
+"You need not be afraid to tell me the truth," said the baby, with a
+wistful smile; "I'm not afraid to hear it."
+
+"Well--well, you're pretty bad," I stammered.
+
+"Ah! thank you," the child replied gratefully. "How many hours do you
+give me?"
+
+The baby's gravity took my breath away. He spoke with an old-world
+courtesy and the ingenuous stateliness of an infant prince.
+
+"It may not be quite hopeless," I murmured.
+
+Willy shook his head, the pretty, wan features distorted by a quaint
+grimace.
+
+"I suppose I'm too young to rally," he said quietly, and closed his
+eyes.
+
+Presently he re-opened them, and added:
+
+"But I should have liked to live to see the Irish question settled."
+
+"You would?" I ejaculated, overwhelmed.
+
+"Yes," he said, adding with a whimsical expression in the wee blue
+eyes: "You mustn't think I crave for earthly immortality. I use
+'settled' in a merely rough sense. My mother was an Irish poetess,
+over whose songs impetuous Celts still break their hearts and their
+heads."
+
+I gazed speechless at this wonder-child, pushing the golden locks
+back from his feverish baby-brow, as if to assure myself by touching
+him that he was not a phantom.
+
+"Ah, well!" he finished, "it doesn't matter. I have had my day, and
+mustn't grumble. I scarcely thought, when I witnessed the dissolution
+of the third Gladstone Government, that I should have lived to see him
+Premier a fourth time. Three doctors told me I was breaking up fast."
+
+I began to be frightened of this extraordinary infant, divining some
+wizardry behind the candid little face--some latter-day mystery of
+re-incarnation, esoteric Buddhism, what-not. The child perceived my
+perturbation.
+
+"You are thinking I have packed a good deal into my short life," he
+said, with an amused smile. "And yet some men will make a Gladstone
+bag hold as much as a portmanteau. Gladstone has done so; and why not
+I, in my humble degree?"
+
+"True," I answered; "but you cannot begin to pack before you are
+born."
+
+"You are entirely mistaken," replied the baby, "if you think I have
+done anything so precocious as that."
+
+"Then you must have lived an odd life," I said, puzzled.
+
+"You have hit it!" exclaimed the child, with a suspicion of eagerness,
+not unmingled with surprise. "I did not mean to tell anyone; but since
+you are a man of science and I am on the point of death, you may as
+well know you have guessed the truth."
+
+"Have I?" I said, more bewildered than ever.
+
+"Yes. In all these years no one has suspected it. It has been
+carefully kept from outsiders. But now it would, perhaps, be childish
+folly to be reticent about it. It is the truth--the plain, literal
+truth--I have lived an odd life."
+
+"How did it begin?" I asked, scarce knowing what I said or what I
+meant.
+
+"You shall know all," said Willy. "I must begin before I was
+born--before I could begin packing, as you put it."
+
+His breath came and went painfully. Overwrought with curiosity as I
+was, I experienced a pang of compunction.
+
+"No, no; never mind," I said; "you have not the strength to speak
+much--you must not waste what you have."
+
+"It can only cost me a few minutes of life--I can spare the time," he
+answered, almost peevishly.
+
+Now that he had been strung up to speaking point, he seemed to resent
+my diminished interest.
+
+I put the glass of barley and water to his lips, and forced him to
+moisten his throat.
+
+"I can spare the time," he repeated, while an air of grim satisfaction
+came over the tiny features. "I have stolen plenty--I have outwitted
+the arch-thief himself. I have survived my own death."
+
+"What!" I gasped. "Have you already died?"
+
+"No, no," he replied fretfully; "I am only just going to die. That is
+how I have survived my death. How dull you are!"
+
+"You were going to begin at the beginning," I murmured feebly.
+
+"No! What is the use of beginning at the beginning?" this _enfant
+terrible_ enquired, in the same peevish tones. "I was going to begin
+before the beginning."
+
+"Yes, yes," I said soothingly, patting his golden curls; "you were
+going to begin before you were born."
+
+"With my mother," he said more gently. "She did not lead a very happy
+life--it enabled her to hymn the wrongs of her country. Her childhood
+was a succession of sorrows, her girlhood a mass of misfortunes; and
+when she married the man she loved, she found herself deserted by him
+a few months later. It was then that she first conceived the thought
+that has changed my life. It came to her in a moment of tears, as she
+sat over the ashes of her happiness. From that moment the thought
+never left her."
+
+There was a wild look in the baby's eyes. I began to suspect him of
+premature insanity.
+
+"What was this thought?" I murmured.
+
+"I am coming to it. There came into her head suddenly the refrain of a
+song she had learnt at school: 'Life like a river with constant
+motion.' 'The river of life! The stream of life! How true it is!' she
+mused. 'How much more than mere metaphors these phrases are! Verily,
+one's life flows on towards the dark ocean of death, irresistibly,
+unrestingly, willy-nilly--whether swift or slow, whether long or
+short--whether it flows through pleasant champaigns or dreary marshes,
+past romantic castled crags, or by bleak quarries. What is the use of
+experience, of knowledge of past bits of the route, when no two bits
+are ever really alike, when the future course is hidden and is always
+a panorama of surprises, when no life-stream knows what awaits it
+round the corner every time it turns, when the scenery of the source
+avails one nothing in one's resistless progress towards the scenery of
+the mouth? What is life but a series of mistakes, whose fruit is
+wisdom, maybe, but wisdom overripe? We do not pluck the fruit till it
+will no longer serve our appetites. Nothing repeats itself on the
+stage of existence--always new situations and new follies.
+_Experientia docet._ Experience teaches, indeed; but her lesson is
+that nothing can be learnt.'"
+
+The baby paused, and reached out his wasted hand for the glass. His
+pinafore and his tiny shoes on the chest of drawers caught my eye, and
+moistened it with the thought he would never don them again.
+
+"As my mother brooded upon this bitter truth," he resumed, when he had
+refreshed himself, "and saw how sad an illustration of it was her own
+life--with its sufferings and its mistakes--she could not help wishing
+existence had been ordered otherwise. If we had had at least two
+lives, we might profit in the second by the first. But, she told
+herself, with a sigh, this was vain day-dreaming. Then suddenly _the_
+thought flashed upon her. Granting that more than one life was
+impossible upon this planet, why should it not be differently
+distributed? Suppose, instead of flowing on like a stream, one's life
+progressed like a London street--the odd numbers on the one side and
+the even on the other, so that after doing the numbers 1, 3, 5, 7, 9,
+11, &c., &c., one could return and do the numbers 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12,
+&c., &c. Without craving from Providence more than man's allotted
+span, what if, by a slight re-arrangement of the years, it were
+possible to extort an infinitely greater degree of happiness from
+one's lifetime! What if it were possible to live the odd years,
+gleaning experience as well as joys, and then to return to the even
+years, armed with all the wisdom of one's age! What if _her_ child
+could enjoy this inestimable privilege! The thought haunted her, she
+brooded on it day and night; and when I was born, she drew me eagerly
+towards her, as if to see some mark of promise written on my forehead.
+But a year passed before she dared to think her wish had found
+fulfilment. On the eve of my first birthday she measured and weighed
+me with intense anxiety, though pretending to herself she only wished
+to keep a register of my growth. In the morning I was more by a year's
+inches and pounds. I had shot up at a bound into my third year, and
+manifested sudden symptoms of walking and talking. She almost fainted
+with joy when my unexpected teeth bit her finger. She could not get
+my shoes on me, nor my frock. But, although my mother had made no
+preparations for my changed condition, she welcomed the trouble I put
+her to, and carefully laid aside my useless garments, knowing I should
+want them again. The neighbours noticed nothing; they thought me a big
+boy for my age, and extremely precocious. When I was in my fifth year
+I went on the stage as an 'infant phenomenon,' my age being attested
+by my certificate of birth, though you will of course see that I was
+really in my ninth. In the next few years I made enough money to gild
+my mother's few declining years; and when I retired temporarily from
+the boards at the advice of my critics, it was of course with the
+intention of studying and returning to the stage when I was younger.
+And so I advanced to manhood, skipping the alternate years. I rejoice
+to say that my mother, though she died when I was seventy-three, had
+the satisfaction of knowing what felicity her unselfish aspiration had
+brought into my life. She told me of my strange exemption from the
+common burden of continuous existence, as soon as I had skipped into
+years of discretion. Not for me did Time pass with that tragic
+footstep which never returns on itself; for me he was not the
+irrevocable, the relentless. I regretted my lost youth--but it was not
+with hopeless, passionate tears, with mutinous yearnings after the
+impossible; it was as one who waves a regretful adieu to a charming
+girl he will meet again."
+
+"Ah! but you will not meet her again," I said softly.
+
+"No; but the feeling was the same. Of course, when I was thirty I did
+not know I should die before I was two. I had no more privilege of
+prescience than the ordinary mortal. But in everything else how
+enviable was my lot compared to his whom every day is sweeping towards
+Death, for whom no vision of renewed youth gleams behind the black
+hangings! Oh! the glory of growing old without dread, with the
+assurance that age, which is ripening you, is not ripening you for the
+Gleaner, that the years will add wisdom without eternally subtracting
+the capacity for joy, and that every tottering step is bringing you
+nearer, not the Grave, but the joyous resurrection of your youth!"
+
+"And you have experienced that?" I cried, with envious incredulity.
+
+"Yes," answered the baby solemnly. "Of course I prepared for the Great
+Change. Not that Nature did not herself smooth the metamorphosis. The
+loss of teeth, the gradual baldness, the feeble limbs, everything
+pointed to the proximity of my Second Childhood. I knew that my odd
+life had not much longer to run, that at any moment the transformation
+might take place and the even numbers begin. Giving out that I was
+going to explore the African deserts, and accompanied only by my
+faithful body-servant, Downton, I retired to Egypt to await the great
+event, having previously ordered baby-linen and the various requisites
+of infantile toilette. I had at one time meditated providing myself
+with parents, but ultimately concluded that they would prove too
+troublesome to manage, and that it would be better to trust myself
+entirely to the management of Downton, since I had already placed
+myself in his power by leaving him all my money."
+
+"But what necessity was there for that?" I enquired.
+
+"Every necessity," he replied gravely. "Do you not see that I had to
+arrange all my affairs and make my will before being born again,
+because afterwards I should not be of legal age for ten years. At
+first I thought of leaving all my money to myself and passing as my
+own child, but there would have been difficulties. I was unmarried and
+seventy-seven. Downton could easily pretend his septuagenarian master
+had died in the African deserts, but he could not so easily patch up a
+marriage there. I had no option, therefore, but to make Downton my
+heir, and I have never had occasion to regret it from the day of my
+rebirth to this, the day of my death. As soon as I was born we
+returned to England, and I wrote my obituary and drove to the Press
+Association with it. Downton took it into the office while I waited in
+Fleet Street in the hansom. I can scarcely hope to convey to you an
+idea of the intensity and agreeableness of my sensations at this
+unprecedented epoch. The variegated life of Fleet Street gave
+me the keenest joy: every sight and every sound--beautiful or
+sordid--thrilled my nerves to rapture. I was interested in everything.
+Imagine the delicious freshness of one's second year supervening upon
+the jaded sensibilities of seventy-seven. All my wide and varied
+knowledge of life lay in my soul as before, but transfigured. Over my
+large experience of men and things was shed a stream of sunshine which
+irradiated everything with divine light; every streak of cynicism
+faded. I had the wisdom of an old man and the heart of a little child.
+I believed in man again, and even in woman. I shed tears of pure
+ecstasy; and when I heard a female of the lower classes say: 'Poor
+little thing! What a shame to leave it crying in a cab!' I laughed
+aloud in glee. She exclaimed: 'Ah! now it's laughing, my
+petsy-wootsy!' Her conversation saddened me again, and I was glad I
+had not burdened myself with a mother, and that I took my milk from a
+bottle instead of a doting nurse. And how exquisite was this same
+apparently monotonous menu of milk to an epicurean who had ruined his
+digestion! I felt I was recuperating on a vegetarian diet, and I
+rejoiced to think some years must elapse before I would care for
+champagne or re-acquire a taste for full-flavoured Manillas. Perhaps
+somewhat unreasonably, I was proud of my strength of will, which had
+enabled me in one day to abandon tobacco without a pang, and
+seven-course dinners without repining. I slept a good deal, too, at
+this period, whereas I had previously been greatly exercised by
+insomnia. But these joys of the senses were as nothing to the joys of
+the intellect. An exquisite curiosity played like a sea-breeze about
+my long-stagnant soul. All my early interests revived; worldly
+propositions I had thought settled showed themselves unstable and
+volant; everything was shaken by the moving spirit of youth. Theology,
+poetry, and even metaphysics became alive; all sorts of unpractical
+questions became suddenly burning. I saw in myself the seeds of a
+great thinker: a felicitous congruity of opposite capacities that had
+never before met in a single man--the sobriety of age tempered by the
+audacity of youth, fire and water, judgment and inspiration. I was
+revolutionist and reactionary in one. I read all the new books, and
+agreed with all the old."
+
+"All you tell me only makes the pathos of your premature death more
+intolerable," I said in moved accents. "You are, like Keats and
+Chatterton,--only an earlier edition,--an inheritor of unfulfilled
+renown."
+
+The little blue eyes smiled wistfully at me.
+
+"Not at all," said the wee rose-lips, with a quiver. "Don't you see, I
+have already dodged Death? Evidently, if I had taken my second year in
+its natural order, I should have been cut short by croup at the
+outset. Apparently I had enough vital energy in me to have lasted till
+seventy-seven, if I could only get over the croup. I think one ought
+to be satisfied with having survived himself by thirty odd years."
+
+"Yes, if you put it like that, the pathos lightens," I admitted. "Of
+course I saw from the first that you were considerably in advance of
+your age. Did you assure your life?" I asked, with a sudden thought.
+
+"I did; but by an oversight I let the policy be invalidated by my
+imaginary expedition to the African deserts. Downton has, however,
+taken out a fresh policy for my new life."
+
+"What a baffling complex of probabilities would be added to Life
+Assurances if your way of living were to become general!" I observed.
+"Downton will probably more than recoup himself for his first loss.
+Have you always been a bachelor, by the way?" I asked.
+
+"Yes," said the baby, with a sigh. "I missed marriage; it probably
+fell in an even year."
+
+"Poor child!" I cried, my eyes growing humid again. To think, too, of
+that beautiful young girl, that fond wife, waiting for him who would
+never come; that innocent maiden cheated of love and happiness because
+her appointed husband had not lived in the other alternate series of
+years,--to think of this tangled tragedy moved me to fresh tears, not
+a few of which were for the husband who never was.
+
+"Nay, do not pity me," said the baby, and his tones were hushed and
+low, and in his heavenly blue eyes I seemed to read the high sorrowful
+wisdom of the ages; "for, since I have lain here on this bed of
+sickness with no spectacular whirl to claim my thoughts, with four
+walls for my horizon, and the agony of death in my throat, the darker
+side of my dual existence has been borne in upon me. I see the shadow
+cast by the sunshine of my privilege of double birth; I see the curse
+which is the obverse of the blessing my mother's prayers brought me; I
+see myself dissipating a youth which I knew would recur, throwing away
+a manhood which I knew would come again, and sinking into a sensual
+senility which I knew would pass into an innocent infancy. I see
+myself rejecting the best gifts and the highest duties of To-Day for
+the illusory felicities and the far-away virtues of the
+Day-After-To-Morrow. I see myself passing by Love with the reflection
+that I should be passing again; putting off Purity with the thought
+that I should be round that way presently; and waving to Duty an
+amicable salute of 'Expect me soon.' And in this moment of clear
+vision I see not only my past, I realise what my future would be if I
+lived. I see the influx of fresh feeling gradually exhausted,
+overcome, ousted, and finally replaced by a satiety more horrible than
+that of the septuagenarian, as I came to realise that life for me held
+no surprises, no lures to curiosity, that the future was no enchanted
+realm of mysterious possibilities, that the white clouds revealed no
+seraph shapes on the horizon, that Hope did not stand like a veiled
+bride with beckoning finger, that fairies were not lurking round every
+corner nor magic palaces waiting to start up at every turn. I see life
+stretching before me like old ground I had been over--in my mother's
+image like a street one side of which I had walked down. What could
+the other offer of fresh, of delightful? It is so rarely one side
+differs from the other: a church for a public-house, a grocer's
+instead of a bookshop. Conceive the horror of foreknowledge: of having
+no sensations to learn and few new emotions to feel; to have,
+moreover, the enthusiasm of youth sicklied over with the prescience of
+senile cynicism, and the healthy vigour of manhood made flaccid by
+anticipations of the dodderings of age! I foresee the ever-growing
+dismay at the leaps and bounds with which my youth was fleeting. I see
+myself, instead of profiting by my experience, feverishly clutching at
+every pleasure on my path, as a drowning man, borne along by a
+torrent, snatches at every scrap of flotsam and jetsam. I see manhood
+arrive only to pass away, as an express passes through a petty
+station, full speed for the terminus. I see a panic terror close upon
+me with every hurrying year at the knowledge that my hours were thirty
+minutes and my months virtually fortnights, and that I was leading the
+fastest life on record. Add to this the anguish of feeling myself torn
+from the bosom of the wife I loved and hurried away from the embraces
+of the children whose careers it would be my solicitude to watch over.
+Imagine the agony if I had been cruelly spared to my seventy-eighth
+year--the agony of a condemned criminal who does not know on what day
+he is to be execu--"
+
+[Illustration: "THE ENTHUSIASM OF YOUTH SICKLIED OVER WITH THE
+PRESCIENCE OF SENILE CYNICISM."]
+
+His voice failed suddenly. He had slightly raised himself on his
+pillow in his excitement, but now his head fell back, revealing the
+fatal white patches on the baby throat. I seized his hand quickly to
+feel his pulse. The little palm lay cold in mine. I started violently
+and sat up rigidly in my chair.
+
+The child was dead. Downton was sobbing at my side.
+
+As I was writing out the certificate, an odd thought came into my
+head. I scribbled what I thought an appropriate epitaph and showed it
+to Downton, but he glared at me furiously. I hastened home to bed.
+
+My epitaph ran:
+
+              HERE LIES
+    WILLIAM ("WILLY") STREETSIDE,
+        WHO LED A DOUBLE LIFE,
+      AND DIED IN BLAMELESS REPUTE,
+          AT THE AVERAGE AGE
+            OF 39 YEARS.
+
+    "_And in their death they were not divided._"
+
+
+
+
+_Cheating the Gallows._
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A CURIOUS COUPLE.
+
+They say that a union of opposites makes the happiest marriage, and
+perhaps it is on the same principle that men who chum together are
+always so oddly assorted. You shall find a man of letters sharing
+diggings with an auctioneer, and a medical student pigging with a
+stockbroker's clerk. Perhaps each thus escapes the temptation to talk
+"shop" in his hours of leisure, while he supplements his own
+experiences of life by his companion's.
+
+There could not be an odder couple than Tom Peters and Everard G.
+Roxdal--the contrast began with their names, and ran through the
+entire chapter. They had a bedroom and a sitting-room in common, but
+it would not be easy to find what else. To his landlady, worthy Mrs.
+Seacon, Tom Peters's profession was a little vague, but everybody knew
+that Roxdal was the manager of the City and Suburban Bank, and it
+puzzled her to think why a bank manager should live with such
+a seedy-looking person, who smoked clay pipes and sipped
+whisky-and-water all the evening when he was at home. For Roxdal was
+as spruce and erect as his fellow-lodger was round-shouldered and
+shabby; he never smoked, and he confined himself to a small glass of
+claret at dinner.
+
+[Illustration: TOM PETERS.]
+
+[Illustration: EVERARD G. ROXDAL.]
+
+It is possible to live with a man and see very little of him. Where
+each of the partners lives his own life in his own way, with his own
+circle of friends and external amusements, days may go by without the
+men having five minutes together. Perhaps this explains why these
+partnerships jog along so much more peaceably than marriages, where
+the chain is drawn so much tighter, and galls the partners rather than
+links them. Diverse, however, as were the hours and habits of the
+chums, they often breakfasted together, and they agreed in one
+thing--they never stayed out at night. For the rest Peters sought his
+diversions in the company of journalists, and frequented debating
+rooms, where he propounded the most iconoclastic views; while Roxdal
+had highly respectable houses open to him in the suburbs, and was, in
+fact, engaged to be married to Clara Newell, the charming daughter of
+a retired corn factor, a widower with no other child.
+
+[Illustration: ASKED TWENTY-FIVE PER CENT MORE.]
+
+Clara naturally took up a good deal of Roxdal's time, and he often
+dressed to go to the play with her, while Peters stayed at home in a
+faded dressing-gown and loose slippers. Mrs. Seacon liked to see
+gentlemen about the house in evening dress, and made comparisons not
+favourable to Peters. And this in spite of the fact that he gave her
+infinitely less trouble than the younger man. It was Peters who first
+took the apartments, and it was characteristic of his easy-going
+temperament that he was so openly and naïvely delighted with the view
+of the Thames obtainable from the bedroom window, that Mrs. Seacon was
+emboldened to ask twenty-five per cent more than she had intended. She
+soon returned to her normal terms, however, when his friend Roxdal
+called the next day to inspect the rooms, and overwhelmed her with a
+demonstration of their numerous shortcomings. He pointed out that
+their being on the ground floor was not an advantage, but a
+disadvantage, since they were nearer the noises of the street--in
+fact, the house being a corner one, the noises of two streets. Roxdal
+continued to exhibit the same finicking temperament in the petty
+details of the _ménage_. His shirt fronts were never sufficiently
+starched, nor his boots sufficiently polished. Tom Peters, having no
+regard for rigid linen, was always good-tempered and satisfied, and
+never acquired the respect of his landlady. He wore blue check shirts
+and loose ties even on Sundays. It is true he did not go to church,
+but slept on till Roxdal returned from morning service, and even then
+it was difficult to get him out of bed, or to make him hurry up his
+toilette operations. Often the mid-day meal would be smoking on the
+table while Peters would be still reading in bed, and Roxdal, with his
+head thrust through the folding-doors that separated the bedroom from
+the sitting-room, would be adjuring the sluggard to arise and shake
+off his slumbers, and threatening to sit down without him, lest the
+dinner be spoilt. In revenge, Tom was usually up first on week-days,
+sometimes at such unearthly hours that Polly had not yet removed the
+boots from outside the bedroom door, and would bawl down to the
+kitchen for his shaving-water. For Tom, lazy and indolent as he was,
+shaved with the unfailing regularity of a man to whom shaving has
+become an instinct. If he had not kept fairly regular hours, Mrs.
+Seacon would have set him down as an actor, so clean shaven was he.
+Roxdal did not shave. He wore a full beard, and, being a fine figure
+of a man to boot, no uneasy investor could look upon him without being
+reassured as to the stability of the bank he managed so successfully.
+And thus the two men lived in an economical comradeship, all the
+firmer, perhaps, for their mutual incongruities.
+
+[Illustration: "FOR HIS SHAVING-WATER."]
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A WOMAN'S INSTINCT.
+
+It was on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of October, ten days after
+Roxdal had settled in his new rooms, that Clara Newell paid her first
+visit to him there. She enjoyed a good deal of liberty, and did not
+mind accepting his invitation to tea. The corn factor, himself
+indifferently educated, had an exaggerated sense of the value of
+culture, and so Clara, who had artistic tastes without much actual
+talent, had gone in for painting, and might be seen, in pretty
+toilettes, copying pictures in the Museum. At one time it looked as if
+she might be reduced to working seriously at her art, for Satan, who
+finds mischief still for idle hands to do, had persuaded her father to
+embark the fruits of years of toil in bubble companies. However,
+things turned out not so bad as they might have been, a little was
+saved from the wreck, and the appearance of a suitor, in the person of
+Everard G. Roxdal, ensured her a future of competence, if not of the
+luxury she had been entitled to expect. She had a good deal of
+affection for Everard, who was unmistakably a clever man, as well as a
+good-looking one. The prospect seemed fair and cloudless. Nothing
+presaged the terrible storm that was about to break over these two
+lives. Nothing had ever for a moment come to vex their mutual
+contentment, till this Sunday afternoon. The October sky, blue and
+sunny, with an Indian summer sultriness, seemed an exact image of her
+life, with its aftermath of a happiness that had once seemed blighted.
+
+Everard had always been so attentive, so solicitous, that she was as
+much surprised as chagrined to find that he had apparently forgotten
+the appointment. Hearing her astonished interrogation of Polly in the
+passage, Tom shambled from the sitting-room in his loose slippers and
+his blue check shirt, with his eternal clay pipe in his mouth, and
+informed her that Roxdal had gone out suddenly earlier in the
+afternoon.
+
+[Illustration: "TOM SHAMBLED FROM THE SITTING-ROOM."]
+
+"G-g-one out?" stammered poor Clara, all confused. "But he asked me to
+come to tea."
+
+"Oh, you're Miss Newell, I suppose," said Tom.
+
+"Yes, I am Miss Newell."
+
+"He has told me a great deal about you, but I wasn't able honestly to
+congratulate him on his choice till now."
+
+Clara blushed uneasily under the compliment, and under the ardour of
+his admiring gaze. Instinctively she distrusted the man. The very
+first tones of his deep bass voice gave her a peculiar shudder. And
+then his impoliteness in smoking that vile clay was so gratuitous.
+
+"Oh, then you must be Mr. Peters," she said in return. "He has often
+spoken to me of you."
+
+"Ah!" said Tom laughingly, "I suppose he's told you all my vices. That
+accounts for your not being surprised at my Sunday attire."
+
+She smiled a little, showing a row of pearly teeth. "Everard ascribes
+to you all the virtues," she said.
+
+"Now that's what I call a friend!" he cried ecstatically. "But won't
+you come in? He must be back in a moment. He surely would not break an
+appointment with _you_." The admiration latent in the accentuation of
+the last pronoun was almost offensive.
+
+She shook her head. She had a just grievance against Everard, and
+would punish him by going away indignantly.
+
+"Do let _me_ give you a cup of tea," Tom pleaded. "You must be
+awfully thirsty this sultry weather. There! I will make a bargain with
+you! If you will come in now, I promise to clear out the moment
+Everard returns, and not spoil your _tête-à-tête_." But Clara was
+obstinate; she did not at all relish this man's society, and besides,
+she was not going to throw away her grievance against Everard. "I know
+Everard will slang me dreadfully when he comes in if I let you go,"
+Tom urged. "Tell me at least where he can find you."
+
+"I am going to take the 'bus at Charing Cross, and I'm going straight
+home," Clara announced determinedly. She put up her parasol in a pet,
+and went up the street into the Strand. A cold shadow seemed to have
+fallen over all things. But just as she was getting into the 'bus, a
+hansom dashed down Trafalgar Square, and a well-known voice hailed
+her. The hansom stopped, and Everard got out and held out his hand.
+
+"I'm so glad you're a bit late," he said. "I was called out
+unexpectedly, and have been trying to rush back in time. You wouldn't
+have found me if you had been punctual. But I thought," he added,
+laughing, "I could rely on you as a woman."
+
+"I _was_ punctual," Clara said angrily. "I was not getting out of this
+'bus, as you seem to imagine, but into it, and was going home."
+
+"My darling!" he cried remorsefully. "A thousand apologies." The
+regret on his handsome face soothed her. He took the rose he was
+wearing in the buttonhole of his fashionably cut coat and gave it to
+her.
+
+"Why were you so cruel?" he murmured, as she nestled against him in
+the hansom. "Think of my despair if I had come home to hear you had
+come and gone. Why didn't you wait a moment?"
+
+[Illustration: "SHE NESTLED AGAINST HIM."]
+
+A shudder traversed her frame. "Not with that man, Peters!" she
+murmured.
+
+"Not with that man, Peters!" he echoed sharply. "What is the matter
+with Peters?"
+
+"I don't know," she said. "I don't like him."
+
+"Clara," he said, half sternly, half cajolingly, "I thought you were
+above these feminine weaknesses; you are punctual, strive also to be
+reasonable. Tom is my best friend. From boyhood we have been always
+together. There is nothing Tom would not do for me, or I for Tom. You
+must like him, Clara; you must, if only for my sake."
+
+"I'll try," Clara promised, and then he kissed her in gratitude and
+broad daylight.
+
+"You'll be very nice to him at tea, won't you?" he said anxiously. "I
+shouldn't like you two to be bad friends."
+
+"I don't want to be bad friends," Clara protested; "only the moment I
+saw him a strange repulsion and mistrust came over me."
+
+"You are quite wrong about him--quite wrong," he assured her
+earnestly. "When you know him better, you'll find him the best of
+fellows. Oh, I know," he said suddenly, "I suppose he was very untidy,
+and you women go so much by appearances!"
+
+"Not at all," Clara retorted. "'Tis you men who go by appearances."
+
+"Yes, you do. That's why you care for me," he said, smiling.
+
+She assured him it wasn't, and she didn't care for him so much as he
+plumed himself, but he smiled on. His smile died away, however, when
+he entered his rooms and found Tom nowhere.
+
+"I daresay you've made him run about hunting for me," he grumbled.
+
+"Perhaps he knew I'd come back, and went away to leave us together,"
+she answered. "He said he would when you came."
+
+"And yet you say you don't like him!"
+
+She smiled reassuringly. Inwardly, however, she felt pleased at the
+man's absence.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+POLLY RECEIVES A PROPOSAL.
+
+If Clara Newell could have seen Tom Peters carrying on with Polly in
+the passage, she might have felt justified in her prejudice against
+him. It must be confessed, though, that Everard also carried on with
+Polly. Alas! it is to be feared that men are much of a muchness where
+women are concerned; shabby men and smart men, bank managers and
+journalists, bachelors and semi-detached bachelors. Perhaps it was a
+mistake after all to say the chums had nothing patently in common.
+Everard, I am afraid, kissed Polly rather more often than Clara, and
+although it was because he respected her less, the reason would
+perhaps not have been sufficiently consoling to his affianced wife.
+For Polly was pretty, especially on alternate Sunday afternoons, and
+she liked to receive the homage of real gentlemen, setting her white
+cap at all indifferently. Thus, just before Clara knocked on that
+memorable Sunday afternoon, Polly, being confined to the house by the
+unwritten code regulating the lives of servants, was amusing herself
+by flirting with Peters.
+
+[Illustration: "CARRYING ON WITH POLLY."]
+
+"You _are_ fond of me a little bit," the graceless Tom whispered,
+"aren't you?"
+
+"You know I am, sir," Polly replied.
+
+"You don't care for anyone else in the house?"
+
+"Oh no, sir. I wonder how it is, sir?" Polly replied ingenuously.
+
+And that very evening, when Clara was gone and Tom still out, Polly
+turned without the faintest atom of scrupulosity, or even jealousy, to
+the more fascinating Roxdal. If it would seem at first sight that
+Everard had less excuse for such frivolity than his friend, perhaps
+the seriousness he showed in this interview may throw a different
+light upon the complex character of the man.
+
+"You're quite sure you don't care for anyone but me?" he asked
+earnestly.
+
+"Of course not, sir!" Polly replied indignantly. "How could I?"
+
+"But you care for that soldier I saw you out with last Sunday?"
+
+"Oh no, sir, he's only my young man," she said apologetically.
+
+"Would you give him up?" he hissed suddenly.
+
+Polly's pretty face took a look of terror. "I couldn't, sir! He'd kill
+me! He's such a jealous brute, you've no idea."
+
+"Yes, but suppose I took you away from here?" he whispered eagerly.
+"Somewhere where he couldn't find you--South America, Africa,
+somewhere thousands of miles across the seas."
+
+"Oh, sir, you frighten me!" whispered Polly, cowering before his
+ardent eyes, which shone in the dimly lit passage.
+
+"Would you come with me?" he hissed. She did not answer; she shook
+herself free and ran into the kitchen, trembling with a vague fear.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE CRASH.
+
+One morning, earlier than his earliest hour of demanding his
+shaving-water, Tom rang the bell violently and asked the alarmed Polly
+what had become of Mr. Roxdal.
+
+"How should I know, sir?" she gasped. "Ain't he been in, sir?"
+
+"Apparently not," Tom answered anxiously. "He never remains out. We
+have been here three weeks now, and I can't recall a single night he
+hasn't been home before twelve. I can't make it out." All enquiries
+proved futile. Mrs. Seacon reminded him of the thick fog that had come
+on suddenly the night before.
+
+"What fog?" asked Tom.
+
+"Lord! didn't you notice it, sir?"
+
+"No, I came in early, smoked, read, and went to bed about eleven. I
+never thought of looking out of the window."
+
+"It began about ten," said Mrs. Seacon, "and got thicker and thicker.
+I couldn't see the lights of the river from my bedroom. The poor
+gentleman has been and gone and walked into the water." She began to
+whimper.
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense," said Tom, though his expression belied his
+words. "At the worst I should think he couldn't find his way home, and
+couldn't get a cab, so put up for the night at some hotel. I daresay
+it will be all right." He began to whistle as if in restored
+cheerfulness. At eight o'clock there came a letter for Roxdal, marked
+"immediate," but as he did not turn up for breakfast, Tom went round
+personally to the City and Suburban Bank. He waited half-an-hour
+there, but the manager did not make his appearance. Then he left the
+letter with the cashier and went away with anxious countenance.
+
+That afternoon it was all over London that the manager of the City and
+Suburban had disappeared, and that many thousand pounds of gold and
+notes had disappeared with him.
+
+Scotland Yard opened the letter marked "immediate," and noted that
+there had been a delay in its delivery, for the address had been
+obscure, and an official alteration had been made. It was written in a
+feminine hand and said: "On second thoughts I cannot accompany you. Do
+not try to see me again. Forget me. I shall never forget you."
+
+[Illustration: "SCOTLAND YARD OPENED THE LETTER."]
+
+There was no signature.
+
+Clara Newell, distracted, disclaimed all knowledge of this letter.
+Polly deposed that the fugitive had proposed flight to her, and the
+routes to Africa and South America were especially watched. Some
+months passed without result. Tom Peters went about overwhelmed with
+grief and astonishment. The police took possession of all the missing
+man's effects. Gradually the hue and cry dwindled, died.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+FAITH AND UNFAITH.
+
+"At last we meet!" cried Tom Peters, while his face lit up in joy.
+"How _are_ you, dear Miss Newell?" Clara greeted him coldly. Her face
+had an abiding pallor now. Her lover's flight and shame had prostrated
+her for weeks. Her soul was the arena of contending instincts. Alone
+of all the world she still believed in Everard's innocence, felt that
+there was something more than met the eye, divined some devilish
+mystery behind it all. And yet that damning letter from the anonymous
+lady shook her sadly. Then, too, there was the deposition of Polly.
+When she heard Peters's voice accosting her all her old repugnance
+resurged. It flashed upon her that this man--Roxdal's boon
+companion--must know far more than he had told to the police. She
+remembered how Everard had spoken of him, with what affection and
+confidence! Was it likely he was utterly ignorant of Everard's
+movements? Mastering her repugnance, she held out her hand. It might
+be well to keep in touch with him; he was possibly the clue to the
+mystery. She noticed he was dressed a shade more trimly, and was
+smoking a meerschaum. He walked along at her side, making no offer to
+put his pipe out.
+
+"You have not heard from Everard?" he asked. She flushed. "Do you
+think I'm an accessory after the fact?" she cried.
+
+"No, no," he said soothingly. "Pardon me, I was thinking he might have
+written--giving no exact address, of course. Men do sometimes dare to
+write thus to women. But, of course, he knows you too well--you would
+have put the police on his track."
+
+"Certainly," she exclaimed indignantly. "Even if he is innocent he
+must face the charge."
+
+"Do you still entertain the possibility of his innocence?"
+
+"I do," she said boldly, and looked him full in the face. His eyelids
+drooped with a quiver. "Don't you?"
+
+"I have hoped against hope," he replied, in a voice faltering with
+emotion. "Poor old Everard! But I am afraid there is no room for
+doubt. Oh, this wicked curse of money--tempting the noblest and the
+best of us."
+
+The weeks rolled on. Gradually she found herself seeing more and more
+of Tom Peters, and gradually, strange to say, he grew less repulsive.
+From the talks they had together, she began to see that there was
+really no reason to put faith in Everard; his criminality, his
+faithlessness, were too flagrant. Gradually she grew ashamed of her
+early mistrust of Peters; remorse bred esteem, and esteem ultimately
+ripened into feelings so warm, that when Tom gave freer vent to the
+love that had been visible to Clara from the first, she did not
+repulse him.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE DID NOT REPULSE HIM."]
+
+It is only in books that love lives for ever. Clara, so her father
+thought, showed herself a sensible girl in plucking out an unworthy
+affection and casting it from her heart. He invited the new lover to
+his house, and took to him at once. Roxdal's somewhat supercilious
+manner had always jarred upon the unsophisticated corn factor. With
+Tom the old man got on much better. While evidently quite as well
+informed and cultured as his whilom friend, Tom knew how to impart his
+superior knowledge with the accent on the knowledge rather than on the
+superiority, while he had the air of gaining much information in
+return. Those who are most conscious of defects of early education are
+most resentful of other people sharing their consciousness. Moreover,
+Tom's _bonhomie_ was far more to the old fellow's liking than the
+studied politeness of his predecessor, so that on the whole Tom made
+more of a conquest of the father than of the daughter. Nevertheless,
+Clara was by no means unresponsive to Tom's affection, and when,
+after one of his visits to the house, the old man kissed her fondly
+and spoke of the happy turn things had taken, and how, for the second
+time in their lives, things had mended when they seemed at their
+blackest, her heart swelled with a gush of gratitude and joy and
+tenderness, and she fell sobbing into her father's arms.
+
+[Illustration: "WITH TOM THE OLD MAN GOT ON MUCH BETTER."]
+
+Tom calculated that he made a clear five hundred a year by occasional
+journalism, besides possessing some profitable investments which he
+had inherited from his mother, so that there was no reason for
+delaying the marriage. It was fixed for May-day, and the honeymoon was
+to be spent in Italy.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING.
+
+But Clara was not destined to happiness. From the moment she had
+promised herself to her first love's friend, old memories began to
+rise up and reproach her. Strange thoughts stirred in the depths of
+her soul, and in the silent watches of the night she seemed to hear
+Everard's accents, charged with grief and upbraiding. Her uneasiness
+increased as her wedding-day drew near. One night, after a pleasant
+afternoon spent in being rowed by Tom among the upper reaches of the
+Thames, she retired to rest full of vague forebodings. And she dreamt
+a terrible dream. The dripping form of Everard stood by her bedside,
+staring at her with ghastly eyes. Had he been drowned on the passage
+to his land of exile? Frozen with horror, she put the question.
+
+"I have never left England!" the vision answered.
+
+Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.
+
+"Never left England?" she repeated, in tones which did not seem to be
+hers.
+
+The wraith's stony eyes stared on, but there was silence.
+
+"Where have you been then?" she asked in her dream.
+
+"Very near you," came the answer.
+
+"There has been foul play then!" she shrieked.
+
+The phantom shook its head in doleful assent.
+
+"I knew it!" she shrieked. "Tom Peters--Tom Peters has done away with
+you. Is it not he? Speak!"
+
+"Yes, it is he--Tom Peters--whom I loved more than all the world."
+
+Even in the terrible oppression of the dream she could not resist
+saying, woman-like:
+
+"Did I not warn you against him?"
+
+The phantom stared on silently and made no reply.
+
+"But what was his motive?" she asked at length.
+
+"Love of gold--and you. And you are giving yourself to him," it said
+sternly.
+
+"No, no, Everard! I will not! I will not! I swear it! Forgive me!"
+
+The spirit shook its head sceptically.
+
+"You love him. Women are false--as false as men."
+
+She strove to protest again, but her tongue refused its office.
+
+"If you marry him, I shall always be with you! Beware!"
+
+[Illustration: "IDENTIFIED THE BODY."]
+
+The dripping figure vanished as suddenly as it came, and Clara awoke
+in a cold perspiration. Oh, it was horrible! The man she had learnt to
+love, the murderer of the man she had learnt to forget! How her
+original prejudice had been justified! Distracted, shaken to her
+depths, she would not take counsel even of her father, but informed
+the police of her suspicions. A raid was made on Tom's rooms, and lo!
+the stolen notes were discovered in a huge bundle. It was found that
+he had several banking accounts, with a large, recently deposited
+amount in each bank. Tom was arrested. Attention was now concentrated
+on the corpses washed up by the river. It was not long before the body
+of Roxdal came to shore, the face distorted almost beyond recognition
+by long immersion, but the clothes patently his, and a pocket-book in
+the breast-pocket removing the last doubt. Mrs. Seacon and Polly and
+Clara Newell all identified the body. Both juries returned a verdict
+of murder against Tom Peters, the recital of Clara's dream producing a
+unique impression in the court and throughout the country, especially
+in theological and theosophical circles. The theory of the prosecution
+was that Roxdal had brought home the money, whether to fly alone or
+to divide it, or whether, even for some innocent purpose, as Clara
+believed, was immaterial; that Peters determined to have it all, that
+he had gone out for a walk with the deceased, and, taking advantage of
+the fog, had pushed him into the river, and that he was further
+impelled to the crime by love for Clara Newell, as was evident from
+his subsequent relations with her. The judge put on the black cap. Tom
+Peters was duly hung by the neck till he was dead.
+
+[Illustration: THE CORPSE WASHED UP BY THE RIVER.]
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+BRIEF RÉSUMÉ OF THE CULPRIT'S CONFESSION.
+
+When you all read this I shall be dead and laughing at you. I have
+been hung for my own murder. I am Everard G. Roxdal. I am also Tom
+Peters. We two were one. When I was a young man my moustache and beard
+wouldn't come. I bought false ones to improve my appearance. One day,
+after I had become manager of the City and Suburban Bank, I took off
+my beard and moustache at home, and then the thought crossed my mind
+that nobody would know me without them. I was another man. Instantly
+it flashed upon me that if I ran away from the Bank, that other man
+could be left in London, while the police were scouring the world for
+a non-existent fugitive. But this was only the crude germ of the idea.
+Slowly I matured my plan. The man who was going to be left in London
+must be known to a circle of acquaintance beforehand. It would be easy
+enough to masquerade in the evenings in my beardless condition, with
+other disguises of dress and voice. But this was not brilliant enough.
+I conceived the idea of living with him. It was Box and Cox reversed.
+We shared rooms at Mrs. Seacon's. It was a great strain, but it was
+only for a few weeks. I had trick clothes in my bedroom like those of
+quick-change artistes; in a moment I could pass from Roxdal to Peters
+and from Peters to Roxdal. Polly had to clean two pairs of boots a
+morning, cook two dinners, &c., &c. She and Mrs. Seacon saw one or the
+other of us every moment; it never dawned upon them they never saw us
+_both together_. At meals I would not be interrupted, ate off two
+plates, and conversed with my friend in loud tones. A slight
+ventriloquial gift enabled me to hold audible conversations with him
+when he was supposed to be in the bedroom. At other times we dined at
+different hours. On Sundays he was supposed to be asleep when I was in
+church. There is no landlady in the world to whom the idea would have
+occurred that one man was troubling himself to be two (and to pay for
+two, including washing). I worked up the idea of Roxdal's flight,
+asked Polly to go with me, manufactured that feminine letter that
+arrived on the morning of my disappearance. As Tom Peters I mixed with
+a journalistic set. I had another room where I kept the gold and notes
+till I mistakenly thought the thing had blown over. Unfortunately,
+returning from here on the night of my disappearance, with Roxdal's
+clothes in a bundle I intended to drop into the river, it was stolen
+from me in the fog, and the man into whose possession it ultimately
+came appears to have committed suicide, so that his body dressed in my
+clothes was taken for mine. What, perhaps, ruined me was my desire to
+keep Clara's love, and to transfer it to the survivor. Everard told
+her I was the best of fellows. Once married to her, I would not have
+had much fear. Even if she had discovered the trick, a wife cannot
+give evidence against her husband, and often does not want to. I made
+none of the usual slips, but no man can guard against a girl's
+nightmare after a day up the river and a supper at the Star and
+Garter. I might have told the judge he was an ass, but then I should
+have had penal servitude for bank robbery, and that is worse than
+death. The only thing that puzzles me, though, is whether the law has
+committed murder or I suicide. What is certain is that I have cheated
+the gallows.
+
+
+
+
+_Santa Claus._
+
+A STORY FOR THE NURSERY.
+
+
+Although Bob was asleep on the doorstep the children in the passage
+talked so loudly that they woke him up. They did not mean to do it,
+for they were nice, clean, handsome children. Bob was always pretty
+dirty, so nobody knew if he was pretty clean. He was not a dog, though
+you might think so from his name and the way he was treated. Nobody
+cared for Bob except Tommy whom he could fight one-hand. The lucky
+nice clean children had jam to lick, but Bob had only Tommy. Poor
+Tommy!
+
+Bob sat up on his stony doorstep, drawing his rags around him. His
+toes were freezing. When you have no boots it is awkward to stamp your
+feet. That is why they are so cold. Bob's idea of heaven was a place
+with a fire in it. He lived before Free Education and his ideas were
+mixed.
+
+Bob heard the children inside talking about Santa Claus and the
+presents they expected. Bob gathered that he was a kind-hearted old
+gentleman, and he thought to himself: "If I could find out Santa
+Claus's address, I'd go and arx 'im for some presents too." So he
+waited outside, shivering, till a pretty little girl and boy came out,
+when he said to them: "Please, can you tell me where Santa Claus
+lives?"
+
+The little girl and boy drew back when he spoke to them, because they
+had strict orders to keep their pinafores clean. But when they heard
+his strange question, they looked at each other with large eyes. Then
+their pretty faces filled with smiling sunshine, and they said: "He
+lives in the sky. He is a spirit."
+
+Bob's face fell. "Oh, then I carn't call upon 'im," he said. "But 'ow
+is it _I_ never gets no presents like I 'ears yer say _you_ does?"
+
+"Perhaps you are not a good child," said the little girl gravely.
+
+"Yes, look how you've torn your clothes," said the little boy
+reprovingly.
+
+"Well, but 'ow is _you_ goin' to get presents from the sky?"
+
+"We hang up our stockings to-night, just before Christmas, and in the
+night Santa Claus fills them," they explained, and just then the maid
+came out and led them away.
+
+Now Bob understood. He had never had any stockings in his life. He
+felt mad to think how much else he had missed through the want of a
+pair. If he could only get a pair of stockings to hang up, he might be
+a rich boy and dine off bread and treacle. He wandered through the
+courts and alleys looking for stockings in the gutters and dustbins.
+They were not there. Old boots were to be found in abundance though
+not in couples (which was odd); but Bob soon discovered that people
+never throw away their stockings. At last he plucked up courage and
+begged from house to house, but nobody had a pair to spare. What
+becomes of all the old stockings? Not everybody hoards treasure in
+them. Bob met plenty of kind hearts; they offered him bread when he
+asked for a stocking.
+
+At last, weary and footsore, he returned to his doorstep and pondered.
+He wondered if he could cheat Santa Claus by making a pair out of a
+piece of newspaper he had picked up. But perhaps Mr. Claus was
+particular about the material and admitted nothing under cotton. He
+thought of stepping deeply into the mud and caking a pair, but then he
+could only remove them at night by brushing them off in little pieces;
+he feared they would stick too tight to come off whole. He also
+thought of painting his calves with stripes from "wet paint," on the
+off chance that Mr. Claus would drop the presents carelessly down
+along his legs. But he concluded that if Mr. Claus lived in the sky he
+could look down and see all he was doing. So he began to cry instead.
+
+"What are you crying about?" said a quavering voice, and Bob,
+startled, became aware of a wretched old creature dining on the
+doorstep at his side.
+
+[Illustration: AN OLD WOMAN DINING ON THE DOORSTEP.]
+
+"I ain't got no stockings," he sobbed in answer.
+
+"Well, I'll give you mine," said his neighbour.
+
+Bob hesitated. The poor old woman looked so brokendown herself, it
+seemed mean to accept her offer.
+
+"Won't you be cold?" he asked timidly.
+
+"I shan't be warmer," mumbled the old woman. "But then you will."
+
+"No, I won't have them, thank you kindly, mum," said Bob stoutly.
+
+"Then I'll tell you what to do," said the old woman, who was really a
+fairy, though she had lost both wings--they had been amputated in a
+surgical operation. "It's easy enough to get stockings if you only
+know how. Run away now and pick out any person you meet and say, 'I
+wish that person's stockings were on my feet.' You can only wish once,
+so be careful, especially, not to wish for a pair of blue stockings,
+as they won't suit you."
+
+She grinned and vanished. Bob jumped up and was about to wish off
+the stockings of the first man he met, when a horrible thought struck
+him. The man had nice clothes and looked rich, but what proof was
+there he had stockings on? Bob really could not afford to risk wasting
+his wish. He walked about and looked at all the people--the men with
+their long trousers, the women with their trailing skirts; and the
+more he walked, the more grew his doubt and his agony. A terrible
+scepticism of humanity seized him. They looked very prim and demure
+without, these men and women, with their varnished boots and their
+satin gowns, but what if they were all hypocrites, walking about
+without stockings! Night came on. Half distracted by distrust of his
+kind, he wandered on to the docks, and there to his joy he saw people
+coming off a steamer by a narrow plank. As they walked the ladies
+lifted up their skirts so as not to tumble over them, and he caught
+several glimpses of dainty stockings. At last he selected a lady with
+very broad stockings, that looked as if they would hold lots of Mr.
+Claus's presents, and wished. Instantly he felt very funny about the
+feet, and the lady wobbled about so in her big boots that she
+overbalanced herself and fell into the water and was drowned.
+
+Bob ran back to his doorstep, and when it was dark slipped off his
+stockings carefully and hung them up on the knocker. And--sure
+enough!--in the morning they were fall of fine cigars and Spanish
+lace. Bob sold the lace for a penny, but he kept the cigars and smoked
+the first with his penn'uth of Christmas plum-duff.
+
+_Moral_:--England expects every man to pay his duty.
+
+
+
+
+_A Rose of the Ghetto._
+
+
+One day it occurred to Leibel that he ought to get married. He went to
+Sugarman the Shadchan forthwith.
+
+"I have the very thing for you," said the great marriage-broker.
+
+"Is she pretty?" asked Leibel.
+
+"Her father has a boot and shoe warehouse," replied Sugarman
+enthusiastically.
+
+"Then there ought to be a dowry with her," said Leibel eagerly.
+
+"Certainly a dowry! A fine man like you!"
+
+"How much do you think it would be?"
+
+"Of course it is not a large warehouse; but then you could get your
+boots at trade price, and your wife's, perhaps, for the cost of the
+leather."
+
+"When could I see her?"
+
+"I will arrange for you to call next Sabbath afternoon."
+
+"You won't charge me more than a sovereign?"
+
+"Not a _groschen_ more! Such a pious maiden! I'm sure you will be
+happy. She has so much way-of-the-country [breeding]. And, of course,
+five per cent on the dowry?"
+
+"H'm! Well, I don't mind!" "Perhaps they won't give a dowry," he
+thought, with a consolatory sense of outwitting the Shadchan.
+
+On the Saturday Leibel went to see the damsel, and on the Sunday he
+went to see Sugarman the Shadchan.
+
+"But your maiden squints!" he cried resentfully.
+
+"An excellent thing!" said Sugarman. "A wife who squints can never
+look her husband straight in the face and overwhelm him. Who would
+quail before a woman with a squint?"
+
+"I could endure the squint," went on Leibel dubiously, "but she also
+stammers."
+
+"Well, what is better, in the event of a quarrel? The difficulty she
+has in talking will keep her far more silent than most wives. You had
+best secure her while you have the chance."
+
+"But she halts on the left leg," cried Leibel, exasperated.
+
+"_Gott in Himmel!_ Do you mean to say you do not see what an advantage
+it is to have a wife unable to accompany you in all your goings?"
+
+Leibel lost patience.
+
+"Why, the girl is a hunchback!" he protested furiously.
+
+"My dear Leibel," said the marriage-broker, deprecatingly shrugging
+his shoulders and spreading out his palms. "You can't expect
+perfection!"
+
+Nevertheless, Leibel persisted in his unreasonable attitude. He
+accused Sugarman of wasting his time, of making a fool of him.
+
+"A fool of you!" echoed the Shadchan indignantly, "when I give you a
+chance of a boot and shoe manufacturer's daughter. You will make a
+fool of yourself if you refuse. I daresay her dowry would be enough to
+set you up as a master-tailor. At present you are compelled to slave
+away as a cutter for thirty shillings a week. It is most unjust. If
+you only had a few machines you would be able to employ your own
+cutters. And they can be got so cheap nowadays."
+
+This gave Leibel pause, and he departed without having definitely
+broken the negotiations. His whole week was befogged by doubt, his
+work became uncertain, his chalk-marks lacked their usual decision,
+and he did not always cut his coat according to his cloth. His
+aberrations became so marked that pretty Rose Green, the sweater's
+eldest daughter, who managed a machine in the same room, divined, with
+all a woman's intuition, that he was in love.
+
+"What is the matter?" she said in rallying Yiddish, when they were
+taking their lunch of bread and cheese and ginger-beer, amid the
+clatter of machines, whose serfs had not yet knocked off work.
+
+"They are proposing me a match," he answered sullenly.
+
+"A match!" ejaculated Rose. "Thou!" She had worked by his side for
+years, and familiarity bred the second person singular. Leibel nodded
+his head, and put a mouthful of Dutch cheese into it.
+
+"With whom?" asked Rose. Somehow he felt ashamed. He gurgled the
+answer into the stone ginger-beer bottle, which he put to his thirsty
+lips.
+
+"With Leah Volcovitch!"
+
+"Leah Volcovitch!" gasped Rose. "Leah, the boot and shoe
+manufacturer's daughter?"
+
+Leibel hung his head--he scarce knew why. He did not dare meet her
+gaze. His droop said "Yes." There was a long pause.
+
+"And why dost thou not have her?" said Rose. It was more than an
+enquiry. There was contempt in it, and perhaps even pique.
+
+Leibel did not reply. The embarrassing silence reigned again, and
+reigned long. Rose broke it at last.
+
+"Is it that thou likest me better?" she asked.
+
+Leibel seemed to see a ball of lightning in the air; it burst, and he
+felt the electric current strike right through his heart. The shock
+threw his head up with a jerk, so that his eyes gazed into a face
+whose beauty and tenderness were revealed to him for the first time.
+The face of his old acquaintance had vanished--this was a cajoling,
+coquettish, smiling face, suggesting undreamed-of things.
+
+"_Nu_, yes," he replied, without perceptible pause.
+
+"_Nu_, good!" she rejoined as quickly.
+
+And in the ecstasy of that moment of mutual understanding Leibel
+forgot to wonder why he had never thought of Rose before. Afterwards
+he remembered that she had always been his social superior.
+
+The situation seemed too dreamlike for explanation to the room just
+yet. Leibel lovingly passed the bottle of ginger-beer and Rose took a
+sip, with a beautiful air of plighting troth, understood only of those
+two. When Leibel quaffed the remnant it intoxicated him. The relics of
+the bread and cheese were the ambrosia to this nectar. They did not
+dare kiss--the suddenness of it all left them bashful, and the smack
+of lips would have been like a cannon-peal announcing their
+engagement. There was a subtler sweetness in this sense of a secret,
+apart from the fact that neither cared to break the news to the
+master-tailor--a stern little old man. Leibel's chalk-marks continued
+indecisive that afternoon; which shows how correctly Rose had
+connected them with love.
+
+Before he left that night Rose said to him: "Art thou sure thou
+wouldst not rather have Leah Volcovitch?"
+
+"Not for all the boots and shoes in the world," replied Leibel
+vehemently.
+
+"And I," protested Rose, "would rather go without my own than without
+thee."
+
+The landing outside the workshop was so badly lighted that their lips
+came together in the darkness.
+
+"Nay, nay, thou must not yet," said Rose. "Thou art still courting
+Leah Volcovitch. For aught thou knowest, Sugarman the Shadchan may
+have entangled thee beyond redemption."
+
+"Not so," asserted Leibel. "I have only seen the maiden once."
+
+"Yes. But Sugarman has seen her father several times," persisted Rose.
+"For so misshapen a maiden his commission would be large. Thou must go
+to Sugarman to-night, and tell him that thou canst not find it in thy
+heart to go on with the match."
+
+"Kiss me, and I will go," pleaded Leibel.
+
+"Go, and I will kiss thee," said Rose resolutely.
+
+"And when shall we tell thy father?" he asked, pressing her hand, as
+the next best thing to her lips.
+
+"As soon as thou art free from Leah."
+
+"But will he consent?"
+
+"He will not be glad," said Rose frankly. "But after mother's
+death--peace be upon her--the rule passed from her hands into mine."
+
+"Ah, that is well," said Leibel. He was a superficial thinker.
+
+Leibel found Sugarman at supper. The great Shadchan offered him a
+chair, but nothing else. Hospitality was associated in his mind with
+special occasions only, and involved lemonade and "stuffed monkeys."
+
+He was very put out--almost to the point of indigestion--to hear of
+Leibel's final determination, and plied him with reproachful
+enquiries.
+
+"You don't mean to say that you give up a boot and shoe manufacturer
+merely because his daughter has round shoulders!" he exclaimed
+incredulously.
+
+"It is more than round shoulders--it is a hump!" cried Leibel.
+
+"And suppose? See how much better off you will be when you get your
+own machines! We do not refuse to let camels carry our burdens because
+they have humps."
+
+"Ah, but a wife is not a camel," said Leibel, with a sage air.
+
+"And a cutter is not a master-tailor," retorted Sugarman.
+
+"Enough, enough!" cried Leibel. "I tell you I would not have her if
+she were a machine warehouse."
+
+"There sticks something behind," persisted Sugarman, unconvinced.
+
+Leibel shook his head. "Only her hump," he said, with a flash of
+humour.
+
+"Moses Mendelssohn had a hump," expostulated Sugarman reproachfully.
+
+"Yes, but he was a heretic," rejoined Leibel, who was not without
+reading. "And then he was a man! A man with two humps could find a
+wife for each. But a woman with a hump cannot expect a husband in
+addition."
+
+"Guard your tongue from evil," quoth the Shadchan angrily. "If
+everybody were to talk like you, Leah Volcovitch would never be
+married at all."
+
+Leibel shrugged his shoulders, and reminded him that hunchbacked girls
+who stammered and squinted and halted on left legs were not usually
+led under the canopy.
+
+"Nonsense! Stuff!" cried Sugarman angrily. "That is because they do
+not come to me."
+
+"Leah Volcovitch _has_ come to you," said Leibel, "but she shall not
+come to me." And he rose, anxious to escape.
+
+Instantly Sugarman gave a sigh of resignation. "Be it so! Then I shall
+have to look out for another, that's all."
+
+"No, I don't want any," replied Leibel quickly.
+
+Sugarman stopped eating. "You don't want any?" he cried. "But you came
+to me for one?"
+
+"I--I--know," stammered Leibel. "But I've--I've altered my mind."
+
+"One needs Hillel's patience to deal with you!" cried Sugarman. "But I
+shall charge you all the same for my trouble. You cannot cancel an
+order like this in the middle! No, no! You can play fast and loose
+with Leah Volcovitch. But you shall not make a fool of me."
+
+"But if I don't want one?" said Leibel sullenly.
+
+Sugarman gazed at him with a cunning look of suspicion. "Didn't I say
+there was something sticking behind?"
+
+Leibel felt guilty. "But whom have you got in your eye?" he enquired
+desperately.
+
+"Perhaps you may have some one in yours!" naïvely answered Sugarman.
+
+Leibel gave a hypocritic long-drawn, "U-m-m-m. I wonder if Rose
+Green--where I work--" he said, and stopped.
+
+"I fear not," said Sugarman. "She is on my list. Her father gave her
+to me some months ago, but he is hard to please. Even the maiden
+herself is not easy, being pretty."
+
+"Perhaps she has waited for some one," suggested Leibel.
+
+Sugarman's keen ear caught the note of complacent triumph.
+
+"You have been asking her yourself!" he exclaimed in horror-stricken
+accents.
+
+"And if I have?" said Leibel defiantly.
+
+"You have cheated me! And so has Eliphaz Green--I always knew he was
+tricky! You have both defrauded me!"
+
+"I did not mean to," said Leibel mildly.
+
+"You _did_ mean to. You had no business to take the matter out of my
+hands. What right had you to propose to Rose Green?"
+
+"I did not," cried Leibel excitedly.
+
+"Then you asked her father!"
+
+"No; I have not asked her father yet."
+
+"Then how do you know she will have you?"
+
+"I--I know," stammered Leibel, feeling himself somehow a liar as well
+as a thief. His brain was in a whirl; he could not remember how the
+thing had come about. Certainly he had not proposed; nor could he say
+that she had.
+
+"You know she will have you," repeated Sugarman, reflectively. "And
+does _she_ know?"
+
+"Yes. In fact," he blurted out, "we arranged it together."
+
+"Ah! You both know. And does her father know?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Ah! then I must get his consent," said Sugarman decisively.
+
+"I--I thought of speaking to him myself."
+
+"Yourself!" echoed Sugarman, in horror. "Are you unsound in the head?
+Why, that would be worse than the mistake you have already made!"
+
+"What mistake?" asked Leibel, firing up.
+
+"The mistake of asking the maiden herself. When you quarrel with her
+after your marriage, she will always throw it in your teeth that you
+wished to marry her. Moreover, if you tell a maiden you love her, her
+father will think you ought to marry her as she stands. Still, what is
+done is done." And he sighed regretfully.
+
+"And what more do I want? I love her."
+
+"You piece of clay!" cried Sugarman contemptuously. "Love will not
+turn machines, much less buy them. You must have a dowry. Her father
+has a big stocking--he can well afford it."
+
+Leibel's eyes lit up. There was really no reason why he should not
+have bread-and-cheese with his kisses.
+
+"Now, if _you_ went to her father," pursued the Shadchan, "the odds
+are that he would not even give you his daughter--to say nothing of
+the dowry. After all, it is a cheek of you to aspire so high. As you
+told me from the first, you haven't saved a penny. Even my commission
+you won't be able to pay till you get the dowry. But if _I_ go, I do
+not despair of getting a substantial sum--to say nothing of the
+daughter."
+
+"Yes, I think you had better go," said Leibel eagerly.
+
+"But if I do this thing for you I shall want a pound more," rejoined
+Sugarman.
+
+"A pound more!" echoed Leibel, in dismay. "Why?"
+
+"Because Rose Green's hump is of gold," replied Sugarman oracularly.
+"Also, she is fair to see, and many men desire her."
+
+"But you have always your five per cent on the dowry."
+
+"It will be less than Volcovitch's," explained Sugarman. "You see,
+Green has other and less beautiful daughters."
+
+"Yes; but then it settles itself more easily. Say five shillings."
+
+"Eliphaz Green is a hard man," said the Shadchan instead.
+
+"Ten shillings is the most I will give!"
+
+"Twelve and sixpence is the least I will take. Eliphaz Green haggles
+so terribly."
+
+They split the difference, and so eleven and threepence represented
+the predominance of Eliphaz Green's stinginess over Volcovitch's.
+
+The very next day Sugarman invaded the Green work-room. Rose bent over
+her seams, her heart fluttering. Leibel had duly apprised her of the
+roundabout manner in which she would have to be won, and she had
+acquiesced in the comedy. At the least it would save her the trouble
+of father-taming.
+
+Sugarman's entry was brusque and breathless. He was overwhelmed with
+joyous emotion. His blue bandanna trailed agitatedly from his
+coat-tail.
+
+"At last!" he cried, addressing the little white-haired master-tailor,
+"I have the very man for you."
+
+"Yes?" grunted Eliphaz, unimpressed. The monosyllable was packed with
+emotion. It said: "Have you really the face to come to me again with
+an ideal man?"
+
+"He has all the qualities that you desire," began the Shadchan, in a
+tone that repudiated the implications of the monosyllable. "He is
+young, strong, God-fearing--"
+
+"Has he any money?" grumpily interrupted Eliphaz.
+
+"He _will_ have money," replied Sugarman unhesitatingly, "when he
+marries."
+
+"Ah!" The father's voice relaxed, and his foot lay limp on the
+treadle. He worked one of his machines himself, and paid himself the
+wages so as to enjoy the profit. "How much will he have?"
+
+"I think he will have fifty pounds; and the least you can do is to let
+him have fifty pounds," replied Sugarman, with the same happy
+ambiguity.
+
+Eliphaz shook his head on principle.
+
+"Yes, you will," said Sugarman, "when you learn how fine a man he is."
+
+The flush of confusion and trepidation already on Leibel's countenance
+became a rosy glow of modesty, for he could not help overhearing what
+was being said, owing to the lull of the master-tailor's machine.
+
+"Tell me, then," rejoined Eliphaz.
+
+"Tell me, first, if you will give fifty to a young, healthy,
+hard-working, God-fearing man, whose idea it is to start as a
+master-tailor on his own account? And you know how profitable that
+is!"
+
+"To a man like that," said Eliphaz, in a burst of enthusiasm, "I would
+give as much as twenty-seven pounds ten!"
+
+Sugarman groaned inwardly, but Leibel's heart leaped with joy. To get
+four months' wages at a stroke! With twenty-seven pounds ten he could
+certainly procure several machines, especially on the instalment
+system. Out of the corners of his eyes he shot a glance at Rose, who
+was beyond earshot.
+
+"Unless you can promise thirty it is waste of time mentioning his
+name," said Sugarman.
+
+"Well, well--who is he?"
+
+Sugarman bent down, lowering his voice into the father's ear.
+
+"What! Leibel!" cried Eliphaz, outraged.
+
+"Sh!" said Sugarman, "or he will overhear your delight, and ask more.
+He has his nose high enough as it is."
+
+"B--b--b--ut," sputtered the bewildered parent, "I know Leibel myself.
+I see him every day. I don't want a Shadchan to find me a man I
+know--a mere hand in my own workshop!"
+
+"Your talk has neither face nor figure," answered Sugarman sternly.
+"It is just the people one sees every day that one knows least. I
+warrant that if I had not put it into your head you would never have
+dreamt of Leibel as a son-in-law. Come now, confess."
+
+Eliphaz grunted vaguely, and the Shadchan went on triumphantly. "I
+thought as much. And yet where could you find a better man to keep
+your daughter?"
+
+"He ought to be content with her alone," grumbled her father.
+
+Sugarman saw the signs of weakening, and dashed in, full strength.
+"It's a question whether he will have her at all. I have not been to
+him about her yet. I awaited your approval of the idea." Leibel
+admired the verbal accuracy of these statements, which he just caught.
+
+"But I didn't know he would be having money," murmured Eliphaz.
+
+"Of course you didn't know. That's what the Shadchan is for--to point
+out the things that are under your nose."
+
+"But where will he be getting this money from?"
+
+"From you," said Sugarman frankly.
+
+"From me?"
+
+"From whom else? Are you not his employer? It has been put by for his
+marriage-day."
+
+"He has saved it?"
+
+"He has not _spent_ it," said Sugarman, impatiently.
+
+"But do you mean to say he has saved fifty pounds?"
+
+"If he could manage to save fifty pounds out of your wages he would be
+indeed a treasure," said Sugarman. "Perhaps it might be thirty."
+
+"But you said fifty."
+
+"Well, _you_ came down to thirty," retorted the Shadchan. "You cannot
+expect him to have more than your daughter brings."
+
+"I never said thirty," Eliphaz reminded him. "Twenty-seven ten was my
+last bid."
+
+"Very well; that will do as a basis of negotiations," said Sugarman
+resignedly. "I will call upon him this evening. If I were to go over
+and speak to him now he would perceive you were anxious and raise his
+terms, and that will never do. Of course, you will not mind allowing
+me a pound more for finding you so economical a son-in-law?"
+
+"Not a penny more."
+
+"You need not fear," said Sugarman resentfully. "It is not likely I
+shall be able to persuade him to take so economical a father-in-law.
+So you will be none the worse for promising."
+
+"Be it so," said Eliphaz, with a gesture of weariness, and he started
+his machine again.
+
+"Twenty-seven pounds ten, remember," said Sugarman, above the whirr.
+
+Eliphaz nodded his head, whirring his wheelwork louder.
+
+"And paid before the wedding, mind?"
+
+The machine took no notice.
+
+"Before the wedding, mind," repeated Sugarman. "Before we go under the
+canopy."
+
+"Go now, go now!" grunted Eliphaz, with a gesture of impatience. "It
+shall be all well." And the white-haired head bowed immovably over its
+work.
+
+In the evening Rose extracted from her father the motive of Sugarman's
+visit, and confessed that the idea was to her liking.
+
+"But dost thou think he will have me, little father?" she asked, with
+cajoling eyes.
+
+"Anyone would have my Rose."
+
+"Ah, but Leibel is different. So many years he has sat at my side and
+said nothing."
+
+"He had his work to think of; he is a good, saving youth."
+
+"At this very moment Sugarman is trying to persuade him--not so? I
+suppose he will want much money."
+
+"Be easy, my child." And he passed his discoloured hand over her hair.
+
+Sugarman turned up the next day, and reported that Leibel was
+unobtainable under thirty pounds, and Eliphaz, weary of the contest,
+called over Leibel, till that moment carefully absorbed in his
+scientific chalk-marks, and mentioned the thing to him for the first
+time. "I am not a man to bargain," Eliphaz said, and so he gave the
+young man his tawny hand, and a bottle of rum sprang from somewhere,
+and work was suspended for five minutes, and the "hands" all drank
+amid surprised excitement. Sugarman's visits had prepared them to
+congratulate Rose. But Leibel was a shock.
+
+The formal engagement was marked by even greater junketing, and at
+last the marriage-day came. Leibel was resplendent in a diagonal
+frock-coat, cut by his own hand, and Rose stepped from the cab a
+medley of flowers, fairness, and white silk, and behind her came two
+bridesmaids--her sisters--a trio that glorified the spectator-strewn
+pavement outside the Synagogue. Eliphaz looked almost tall in his
+shiny high hat and frilled shirt-front. Sugarman arrived on foot,
+carrying red-socked little Ebenezer tucked under his arm.
+
+Leibel and Rose were not the only couple to be disposed of, for it was
+the thirty-third day of the Omer--a day fruitful in marriages.
+
+But at last their turn came. They did not, however, come in their
+turn, and their special friends among the audience wondered why they
+had lost their precedence. After several later marriages had taken
+place, a whisper began to circulate. The rumour of a hitch gained
+ground steadily, and the sensation was proportionate. And, indeed, the
+rose was not to be picked without a touch of the thorn.
+
+Gradually the facts leaked out, and a buzz of talk and comment ran
+through the waiting Synagogue. Eliphaz had not paid up!
+
+At first he declared he would put down the money immediately after
+the ceremony. But the wary Sugarman, schooled by experience, demanded
+its instant delivery on behalf of his other client. Hard-pressed,
+Eliphaz produced ten sovereigns from his trousers' pocket, and
+tendered them on account. These Sugarman disdainfully refused, and the
+negotiations were suspended. The bridegroom's party was encamped in
+one room, the bride's in another, and after a painful delay Eliphaz
+sent an emissary to say that half the amount should be forthcoming,
+the extra five pounds in a bright new Bank of England note. Leibel,
+instructed and encouraged by Sugarman, stood firm.
+
+And then arose a hubbub of voices, a chaos of suggestions; friends
+rushed to and fro between the camps, some emerging from their seats in
+the Synagogue to add to the confusion. But Eliphaz had taken his stand
+upon a rock--he had no more ready money. To-morrow, the next day, he
+would have some. And Leibel, pale and dogged, clutched tighter at
+those machines that were slipping away momently from him. He had not
+yet seen his bride that morning, and so her face was shadowy compared
+with the tangibility of those machines. Most of the other maidens were
+married women by now, and the situation was growing desperate. From
+the female camp came terrible rumours of bridesmaids in hysterics, and
+a bride that tore her wreath in a passion of shame and humiliation.
+Eliphaz sent word that he would give an I O U for the balance, but
+that he really could not muster any more current coin. Sugarman
+instructed the ambassador to suggest that Eliphaz should raise the
+money among his friends.
+
+And the short spring day slipped away. In vain the minister, apprised
+of the block, lengthened out the formulæ for the other pairs, and
+blessed them with more reposeful unction. It was impossible to stave
+off the Leibel-Green item indefinitely, and at last Rose remained the
+only orange-wreathed spinster in the Synagogue. And then there was a
+hush of solemn suspense, that swelled gradually into a steady rumble
+of babbling tongues as minute succeeded minute and the final bridal
+party still failed to appear. The latest bulletin pictured the bride
+in a dead faint. The afternoon was waning fast. The minister left his
+post near the canopy, under which so many lives had been united, and
+came to add his white tie to the forces for compromise. But he fared
+no better than the others. Incensed at the obstinacy of the
+antagonists, he declared he would close the Synagogue. He gave the
+couple ten minutes to marry in or quit. Then chaos came, and
+pandemonium--a frantic babel of suggestion and exhortation from the
+crowd. When five minutes had passed, a legate from Eliphaz announced
+that his side had scraped together twenty pounds, and that this was
+their final bid.
+
+Leibel wavered; the long day's combat had told upon him; the reports
+of the bride's distress had weakened him. Even Sugarman had lost his
+cocksureness of victory. A few minutes more and both commissions might
+slip through his fingers. Once the parties left the Synagogue it would
+not be easy to drive them there another day. But he cheered on his man
+still--one could always surrender at the tenth minute.
+
+At the eighth the buzz of tongues faltered suddenly, to be transposed
+into a new key, so to speak. Through the gesticulating assembly swept
+that murmur of expectation which crowds know when the procession is
+coming at last. By some mysterious magnetism all were aware that the
+BRIDE herself--the poor hysteric bride--had left the paternal camp,
+was coming in person to plead with her mercenary lover.
+
+And as the glory of her and the flowers and the white draperies loomed
+upon Leibel's vision his heart melted in worship, and he knew his
+citadel would crumble in ruins at her first glance, at her first
+touch. Was it fair fighting? As his troubled vision cleared and as she
+came nigh unto him, he saw to his amazement that she was speckless and
+composed--no trace of tears dimmed the fairness of her face, there was
+no disarray in her bridal wreath.
+
+The clock showed the ninth minute.
+
+She put her hand appealingly on his arm, while a heavenly light came
+into her face--the expression of a Joan of Arc animating her country.
+
+"Do not give in, Leibel," she said. "Do not have me! Do not let them
+persuade thee. By my life thou must not! Go home!"
+
+[Illustration: "'BY MY LIFE THOU MUST NOT!'"]
+
+So at the eleventh minute the vanquished Eliphaz produced the balance,
+and they all lived happily ever afterwards.
+
+
+
+
+_A Double-Barrelled Ghost._
+
+
+I was ruined. The bank in which I had been a sleeping-partner from my
+cradle smashed suddenly, and I was exempted from income tax at one
+fell blow. It became necessary to dispose even of the family mansion
+and the hereditary furniture. The shame of not contributing to my
+country's exchequer spurred me to earnest reflection upon how to earn
+an income, and, having mixed myself another lemon-squash, I threw
+myself back on the canvas garden-chair, and watched the white, scented
+wreaths of my cigar-smoke hanging in the drowsy air, and provoking
+inexperienced bees to settle upon them. It was the sort of summer
+afternoon on which to eat lotus, and to sip the dew from the lips of
+Amaryllises; but although I had an affianced Amaryllis (whose
+Christian name was Jenny Grant), I had not the heart to dally with her
+in view of my sunk fortunes. She loved me for myself, no doubt, but
+then I was not myself since the catastrophe; and although she had
+hastened to assure me of her unchanged regard, I was not at all
+certain whether _I_ should be able to support a wife in addition to
+all my other misfortunes. So that I was not so comfortable that
+afternoon as I appeared to my perspiring valet: no rose in the garden
+had a pricklier thorn than I. The thought of my poverty weighed me
+down; and when the setting sun began flinging bars of gold among the
+clouds, the reminder of my past extravagance made my heart heavier
+still, and I broke down utterly.
+
+Swearing at the manufacturers of such collapsible garden-chairs, I was
+struggling to rise when I perceived my rings of smoke comporting
+themselves strangely. They were widening and curving and flowing into
+definite outlines, as though the finger of the wind were shaping them
+into a rough sketch of the human figure. Sprawling amid the ruins of
+my chair, I watched the nebulous contours grow clearer and clearer,
+till at last the agitation subsided, and a misty old gentleman, clad
+in vapour of an eighteenth-century cut, stood plainly revealed upon
+the sun-flecked grass.
+
+"Good afternoon, John," said the old gentleman, courteously removing
+his cocked hat.
+
+"Good afternoon!" I gasped. "How do you know my name?"
+
+"Because I have not forgotten my own," he replied. "I am John
+Halliwell, your great-grandfather. Don't you remember me?"
+
+A flood of light burst upon my brain. Of course! I ought to have
+recognised him at once from the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, just
+about to be sold by auction. The artist had gone to full length in
+painting him, and here he was complete, from his white wig,
+beautifully frizzled by the smoke, to his buckled shoes, from his
+knee-breeches to the frills at his wrists.
+
+"Oh! pray pardon my not having recognised you," I cried remorsefully;
+"I have such a bad memory for faces. Won't you take a chair?"
+
+"Sir, I have not sat down for a century and a half," he said simply.
+"Pray be seated yourself."
+
+[Illustration: "PRAY BE SEATED YOURSELF," SAID THE GHOST SIMPLY.]
+
+Thus reminded of my undignified position, I gathered myself up, and
+readjusting the complex apparatus, confided myself again to its canvas
+caresses. Then, grown conscious of my shirt-sleeves, I murmured,--
+
+"Excuse my deshabille. I did not expect to see you."
+
+"I am aware the season is inopportune," he said apologetically. "But I
+did not care to put off my visit till Christmas. You see, with us
+Christmas is a kind of Bank Holiday; and when there is a general
+excursion, a refined spirit prefers its own fireside. Moreover, I am
+not, as you may see, very robust, and I scarce like to risk exposing
+myself to such an extreme change of temperature. Your English
+Christmas is so cold. With the pyrometer at three hundred and fifty,
+it is hardly prudent to pass to thirty. On a sultry day like this the
+contrast is less marked."
+
+"I understand," I said sympathetically.
+
+"But I should hardly have ventured," he went on, "to trespass upon you
+at this untimely season merely out of deference to my own
+valetudinarian instincts. The fact is, I am a _littérateur_."
+
+"Oh, indeed," I said vaguely; "I was not aware of it."
+
+"Nobody was aware of it," he replied sadly; "but my calling at this
+professional hour will, perhaps, go to substantiate my statement."
+
+I looked at him blankly. Was he quite sane? All the apparitions I had
+ever heard of spoke with some approach to coherence, however imbecile
+their behaviour. The statistics of insanity in the spiritual world
+have never been published, but I suspect the percentage of madness is
+high. Mere harmless idiocy is doubtless the prevalent form of
+dementia, judging by the way the poor unhappy spirits set about
+compassing their ends; but some of their actions can only be explained
+by the more violent species of mania. My great-grandfather seemed to
+read the suspicion in my eye, for he hastily continued:--
+
+"Of course it is only the outside public who imagine that the spirits
+of literature really appear at Christmas. It is the annuals that
+appear at Christmas. The real season at which we are active on earth
+is summer, as every journalist knows. By Christmas the authors of our
+being have completely forgotten our existence. As a writer myself, and
+calling in connection with a literary matter, I thought it more
+professional to pay my visit during the dog days, especially as your
+being in trouble supplied me with an excuse for asking permission to
+go beyond bounds."
+
+"You knew I was in trouble?" I murmured, touched by this sympathy from
+an unexpected quarter.
+
+"Certainly. And from a selfish point of view I am not sorry. You have
+always been so inconsiderately happy that I could never find a seemly
+pretext to get out to see you."
+
+"Is it only when your descendants are in trouble that you are allowed
+to visit them?" I enquired.
+
+"Even so," he answered. "Of course spirits whose births were tragic,
+who were murdered into existence, are allowed to supplement the
+inefficient police departments of the upper globe, and a similar
+charter is usually extended to those who have hidden treasures on
+their conscience; but it is obvious that if all spirits were accorded
+what furloughs they pleased, eschatology would become a farce. Sir,
+you have no idea of the number of bogus criminal romances tendered
+daily by those wishing to enjoy the roving license of avenging
+spirits, for the ex-assassinated are the most enviable of immortals,
+and cases of personation are of frequent occurrence. Our actresses,
+too, are always pretending to have lost jewels; there is no end to the
+excuses. The Christmas Bank Holiday is naturally inadequate to our
+needs. Sir, I should have been far happier if my descendants had gone
+wrong; but in spite of the large fortune I had accumulated, both your
+father and your grandfather were of exemplary respectability and
+unruffled cheerfulness. The solitary outing I had was when your
+father attended a séance, and I was knocked up in the middle of the
+night. But I did not enjoy my holiday in the least; the indignity of
+having to move the furniture made the blood boil in my veins as in a
+spirit-lamp, and exposed me to the malicious badinage of my circle on
+my return. I protested that I did not care a rap; but I was mightily
+rejoiced when I learnt that your father had denounced the proceedings
+as a swindle, and was resolved never to invite me to his table again.
+When you were born I thought you were born to trouble, as the sparks
+fly upwards from our dwelling-place; but I was mistaken. Up till now
+your life has been a long summer afternoon."
+
+"Yes, but now the shades are falling," I said grimly. "It looks as if
+my life henceforwards will be a long holiday--for you."
+
+He shook his wig mournfully.
+
+"No, I am only out on parole. I have had to give my word of honour to
+try to set you on your legs again as soon as possible."
+
+"You couldn't have come at a more opportune moment," I cried,
+remembering how he had found me. "You are a good as well as a
+great-grandfather, and I am proud of my descent. Won't you have a
+cigar?"
+
+"Thank you, I never smoke--on earth," said the spirit hurriedly, with
+a flavour of bitter in his accents. "Let us to the point. You have
+been reduced to the painful necessity of earning your living."
+
+I nodded silently, and took a sip of lemon-squash. A strange sense of
+salvation lulled my soul.
+
+"How do you propose to do it?" asked my great-grandfather.
+
+"Oh, I leave that to you," I said confidingly.
+
+"Well, what do you say to a literary career?"
+
+"Eh? What?" I gasped.
+
+"A literary career," he repeated. "What makes you so astonished?"
+
+"Well, for one thing it's exactly what Tom Addlestone, the
+leader-writer of the _Hurrygraph_, was recommending to me this
+morning. He said: 'John, my boy, if I had had your advantages ten
+years ago, I should have been spared many a headache and supplied with
+many a dinner. It may turn out a lucky thing yet that you gravitated
+so to literary society, and that so many press men had free passes to
+your suppers. Consider the number of men of letters you have mixed
+drinks with! Why, man, you can succeed in any branch of literature you
+please.'"
+
+My great-grandfather's face was radiant. Perhaps it was only the
+setting sun that touched it.
+
+"A chip of the old block," he murmured. "That was I in my young days.
+Johnson, Goldsmith, Sheridan, Burke, Hume, I knew them all--gay dogs,
+gay dogs! Except that great hulking brute of a Johnson," he added,
+with a sudden savage snarl that showed his white teeth.
+
+"I told Addlestone that I had no literary ability whatever, and he
+scoffed at me for my simplicity. All the same, I think he was only
+poking fun at me. My friends might puff me out to bull-size; but I am
+only a frog, and I should very soon burst. The public might be cajoled
+into buying one book; they could not be duped a second time. Don't you
+think I was right? I haven't any literary ability, have I?"
+
+"Certainly not, certainly not," replied my great-grandfather with an
+alacrity and emphasis that would have seemed suspicious in a mere
+mortal. "But it does seem a shame to waste so great an opportunity.
+The ball that Addlestone waited years for is at your foot, and it is
+grievous to think that there it must remain merely because you do not
+know how to kick it."
+
+"Well, but what's a man to do?"
+
+"What's a man to do?" repeated my great-grandfather contemptuously.
+"Get a ghost, of course."
+
+"By Jove!" I cried with a whistle. "That's a good idea! Addlestone has
+a ghost to do his leaders for him when he's lazy. I've seen the young
+fellow myself. Tom pays him six guineas a dozen, and gets three
+guineas apiece himself. But of course Tom has to live in much better
+style, and that makes it fair all round. You mean that I am to take
+advantage of my influence to get some other fellow work, and take a
+commission for the use of my name? That seems feasible enough. But
+where am I to find a ghost with the requisite talents?"
+
+"Here," said my great-grandfather.
+
+"What! You?"
+
+"Yes, I," he replied calmly.
+
+"But you couldn't write--"
+
+"Not now, certainly not. All I wrote now would be burnt."
+
+"Then how the devil--?" I began.
+
+"Hush!" he interrupted nervously. "Listen, and I will a tale unfold.
+It is called _The Learned Pig_. I wrote it in my forty-fifth year, and
+it is full of sketches from the life of all the more notable
+personages of my time, from Lord Chesterfield to Mrs. Thrale, from Peg
+Woffington to Adam Smith and the ingenious Mr. Dibdin. I have painted
+the portrait of Sir Joshua quite as faithfully as he has painted mine.
+Of course much of the dialogue is real, taken from conversations
+preserved in my note-book. It is, I believe, a complete picture of the
+period, and being the only book I ever wrote or intended to write, I
+put my whole self into it, as well as all my friends."
+
+"It must be, indeed, your masterpiece," I cried enthusiastically. "But
+why is it called _The Learned Pig_, and how has it escaped
+publication?"
+
+"You shall hear. The learned pig is Dr. Johnson. He refused to take
+wine with me. I afterwards learnt that he had given up strong liqueurs
+altogether, and I went to see him again, but he received me with
+epigrams. He is the pivot of my book, all the other characters
+revolving about him. Naturally, I did not care to publish during his
+lifetime; not entirely, I admit, out of consideration to his feelings,
+but because foolish admirers had placed him on such a pedestal that he
+could damn any book he did not relish. I made sure of surviving him,
+so many and diverse were his distempers; whereas my manuscript
+survived me. In the moment of death I strove to tell your grandfather
+of the hiding-place in which I had bestowed it; but I could only make
+signs to which he had not the clue. You can imagine how it has
+embittered my spirit to have missed the aim of my life and my due
+niche in the pantheon of letters. In vain I strove to be registered
+among the 'hidden treasure' spirits, with the perambulatory privileges
+pertaining to the class. I was told that to recognise manuscripts
+under the head of 'treasures' would be to open a fresh door to abuse,
+there being few but had scribbled in their time and had a good conceit
+of their compositions to boot. I could offer no proofs of the value of
+my work, not even printers' proofs, and even the fact that the
+manuscript was concealed behind a sliding panel availed not to bring
+it into the coveted category. Moreover, not only did I have no other
+pretext to call on my descendants, but both my son and grandson were
+too respectable to be willingly connected with letters and too
+flourishing to be enticed by the prospects of profit. To you, however,
+this book will prove the avenue to fresh fortune."
+
+"Do you mean I am to publish it under your name?"
+
+"No, under yours."
+
+"But, then, where does the satisfaction come in?"
+
+"Your name is the same as mine."
+
+"I see; but still, why not tell the truth about it? In a preface, for
+instance."
+
+"Who would believe it? In my own day I could not credit that
+Macpherson spoke truly about the way Ossian came into his possession,
+nor to judge from gossip I have had with the younger ghosts did anyone
+attach credence to Sir Walter Scott's introductions."
+
+"True," I said musingly. "It is a played-out dodge. But I am not
+certain whether an attack on Dr. Johnson would go down nowadays. We
+are aware that the man had porcine traits, but we have almost
+canonised him."
+
+"The very reason why the book will be a success," he replied eagerly.
+"I understand that in these days of yours the best way of attracting
+attention is to fly in the face of all received opinion, and so in the
+realm of history to whitewash the villains and tar and feather the
+saints. The sliding panel of which I spoke is just behind the picture
+of me. Lose no time. Go at once, even as I must."
+
+The shadowy contours of his form waved agitatedly in the wind.
+
+"But how do you know anyone will bring it out?" I said doubtfully. "Am
+I to haunt the publishers' offices till--"
+
+"No, no, I will do that," he interrupted in excitement. "Promise me
+you will help me."
+
+"But I don't feel at all sure it stands a ghost of a chance," I said,
+growing colder in proportion as he grew more enthusiastic.
+
+"It is the only chance of a ghost," he pleaded. "Come, give me your
+word. Any of your literary friends will get you a publisher, and
+where could you get a more promising ghost?"
+
+"Oh, nonsense!" I said quietly, unconsciously quoting Ibsen. "There
+must be ghosts all the country over, as thick as the sand of the sea."
+
+I was determined to put the matter on its proper footing, for I saw
+that under pretence of restoring my fortunes he was really trying to
+get me to pull his chestnuts out of the fire, and I resented the
+deceptive spirit that could put forward such tasks as favours. It was
+evident that he cherished a post-mortem grudge against the great
+lexicographer, as well as a posthumous craving for fame, and wished to
+use me as the instrument of his reputation and his revenge. But I was
+a man of the world, and I was not going to be rushed by a mere
+phantom.
+
+"I don't deny there are plenty of ghosts about," he answered with
+insinuative deference. "Only will any of the others work for nothing?"
+
+He saw he had scored a point, and his eyes twinkled.
+
+"Yes, but I don't know that I approve of black-legs," I answered
+sternly. "You are taking the bread and butter out of some honest
+ghost's mouth."
+
+The corners of his own mouth drooped; his eyes grew misty; he looked
+fading away. "Most true," he faltered; "but be pitiful. Have you no
+great-grand-filial feelings?"
+
+"No, I lost everything in the crash," I answered coldly. "Suppose the
+book's a frost?"
+
+"I shan't mind," he said eagerly.
+
+"No, I don't suppose you _would_ mind a frost," I retorted
+witheringly. "But look at the chaff you'd be letting me in for. Hadn't
+you better put off publication for a century or two?"
+
+"No, no," he cried wildly; "our mansion will pass into strange hands.
+I shall not have the right of calling on the new proprietors."
+
+"Phew!" I whistled; "perhaps that's why you timed your visit now, you
+artful old codger. I have always heard appearances are deceptive.
+However, I have ever been a patron of letters; and although I cannot
+approve of post-mundane malice, and think the dead past should be let
+bury its dead, still, if you are set upon it, I will try and use my
+influence to get your book published."
+
+"Bless you!" he cried tremulously, with all the effusiveness natural
+to an author about to see himself in print, and trembled so violently
+that he dissipated himself away.
+
+I stood staring a moment at the spot where he had stood, pleased at
+having out-manoeuvred him; then my chair gave way with another
+crash, and I picked myself up painfully, together with the dead stump
+of my cigar, and brushed the ash off my trousers, and rubbed my eyes
+and wondered if I had been dreaming. But no! when I ran into the
+cheerless dining-room, with its pervading sense of imminent auction, I
+found the sliding panel behind the portrait by Reynolds, which seemed
+to beam kindly encouragement upon me, and, lo! _The Learned Pig_ was
+there in a mass of musty manuscript.
+
+As everybody knows, the book made a hit. The _Acadæum_ was unusually
+generous in its praise: "A lively picture of the century of
+farthingales and stomachers, marred only by numerous anachronisms and
+that stilted air of faked-up archæological knowledge which is, we
+suppose, inevitable in historical novels. The conversations are
+particularly artificial. Still, we can forgive Mr. Halliwell a good
+deal of inaccuracy and inacquaintance with the period, in view of the
+graphic picture of the literary dictator from the novel point of view
+of a contemporary who was not among the worshippers. It is curious
+how the honest, sterling character of the man is brought out all the
+more clearly from the incapacity of the narrator to comprehend its
+greatness--to show this was a task that called for no little skill and
+subtlety. If it were only for this one ingenious idea, Mr. Halliwell's
+book would stand out from the mass of abortive attempts to resuscitate
+the past. He has failed to picture the times, but he has done what is
+better--he has given us human beings who are alive, instead of the
+futile shadows that flit through the Walhalla of the average
+historical novel."
+
+All the leading critics were at one as to the cleverness with which
+the great soul of Dr. Johnson was made to stand out on the background
+of detraction, and the public was universally agreed that this was the
+only readable historical novel published for many years, and that the
+anachronisms didn't matter a pin. I don't know what I had done to Tom
+Addlestone; but when everybody was talking about me, he went about
+saying that I kept a ghost. I was annoyed, for I did not keep one in
+any sense, and I openly defied the world to produce him. Why, I never
+saw him again myself--I believe he was too disgusted with the fillip
+he had given Dr. Johnson's reputation, and did not even take advantage
+of the Christmas Bank Holiday. But Addlestone's libel got to Jenny
+Grant's ears, and she came to me indignantly, and said: "I won't have
+it. You must either give up me or the ghost."
+
+"To give up you would be to give up the ghost, darling," I answered
+soothingly. "But you, and you alone, have a right to the truth. It is
+not my ghost at all, it is my great-grandfather's."
+
+"Do you mean to say he bequeathed him to you?"
+
+"It came to that."
+
+I then told her the truth, and showed how in any case the profits of
+my ancestor's book rightfully reverted backwards to me. So we were
+married on them, and Jenny, fired by my success, tried _her_ hand on a
+novel, and published it, truthfully enough, under the name of J.
+Halliwell. She has written all my stories ever since, including this
+one; which, if it be necessarily false in the letter, is true in the
+spirit.
+
+
+
+
+_Vagaries of a Viscount._
+
+
+That every man has a romance in his life has always been a pet theory
+of mine, so I was not surprised to find the immaculate Dorking smoking
+a clay pipe in Cable Street (late Ratcliff Highway) at half-past eight
+of a winter's morning. Nor was I surprised to find myself there,
+because, as a romancer, I have a poetic license to go anywhere and see
+everything. Viscount Dorking had just come out of an old clo' shop,
+and was got up like a sailor. Under his arm was a bundle. He lurched
+against me without recognising me, for I, too, was masquerading in my
+shabbiest and roughest attire, and the morning was bleak and foggy,
+the round red sun flaming in the forehead of the morning sky like the
+eye of a cyclop. But there could be no doubt it was Dorking--even if I
+had not been acquainted with the sedate Viscount (that paradox of the
+peerage, whose treatises on pure mathematics were the joy of Senior
+Wranglers) I should have suspected something shady from the whiteness
+of my sailor's hands.
+
+Dorking was a dapper little man, almost dissociable from gloves and a
+chimneypot. The sight of him shambling along like one of the crew of
+H. M. S. _Pinafore_ gave me a pleasant thrill of excitement. I turned,
+and followed him along the narrow yellow street. He made towards the
+Docks, turning down King David Lane. He was apparently without any
+instrument of protection, though I, for my part, was glad to feel the
+grasp of the old umbrella that walks always with me, hand in knob.
+Hard by the Shadwell Basin he came to a halt before a frowsy
+coffee-house, reflectively removed his pipe from his mouth, and
+whistled a bar of a once popular air in a peculiar manner. Then he
+pushed open the bleared glass door, and was lost to view.
+
+After an instant's hesitation I pulled my sombrero over my eyes and
+strode in after him, plunging into a wave of musty warmth not entirely
+disagreeable after the frigid street. The boxes were full of queer
+waterside characters, among whom flitted a young woman robustly
+beautiful. The Viscount was already smiling at her when I entered.
+"Bring us the usual," he said, in a rough accent.
+
+"Come along, Jenny, pint and one," impatiently growled a
+weather-beaten old ruffian in a pilot's cap.
+
+"Pawn your face!" murmured Jenny, turning to me with an enquiring air.
+
+"Pint and one," I said boldly, in as husky a tone as I could squeeze
+out.
+
+Several battered visages, evidently belonging to _habitués_ of the
+place, were bent suspiciously in my direction; perhaps because my
+rig-out, though rough, had no flavour of sea-salt or river-mud, for no
+one took the least notice of Dorking, except the comely attendant. I
+waited with some curiosity for my fare, which turned out to be nothing
+more mysterious than a pint of coffee and one thick slice of bread and
+butter. Not to appear ignorant of the prices ruling, I tendered Jenny
+a sixpence, whereupon she returned me fourpence-halfpenny. This
+appeared to me so ridiculously cheap that I had not the courage to
+offer her the change as I had intended, nor did she seem to expect it.
+The pint of coffee was served in one great hulking cup such as
+Gargantua might have quaffed. I took a sip, and found it of the
+flavour of chalybeate springs. But it was hot, and I made shift to
+drink a little, casting furtive glances at Dorking, three boxes off
+across the gangway.
+
+My gentleman sailor seemed quite at home, swallowing stolidly as
+though at his own breakfast-table. I grew impatient for him to have
+done, and beguiled the time by studying a placard on the wall offering
+a reward for information as to the whereabouts of a certain ship's
+cook who was wanted for knifing human flesh. And presently, curiously
+enough, in comes a police-sergeant on this very matter, and out goes
+Dorking (rather hastily, I thought), with me at his heels.
+
+No sooner had he got round a corner than he started running at a rate
+that gave me a stitch in the side. He did not stop till he reached a
+cab-rank. There was only one vehicle on it, and the coughing,
+red-nosed driver, unpleasantly suggesting a mixture of grog and fog,
+was climbing to his seat when I came cautiously and breathlessly up,
+and Dorking was returning to his trousers' pocket a jingling mass of
+gold and silver coins, which he had evidently been exhibiting to the
+sceptical cabman. He seemed to walk these regions with the
+fearlessness of Una in the enchanted forest. I had no resource but to
+hang on to the rear, despite the alarums of "whip behind," raised by
+envious and inconsiderate urchins.
+
+And in this manner, defiantly dodging the cabman, who several times
+struck me unfairly behind his back, I drove through a labyrinth of
+sordid streets to the Bethnal Green Museum. Here we alighted, and the
+Viscount strolled about outside the iron railings, from time to time
+anxiously scrutinising the church clock and looking towards the
+fountain which only performs in the summer, and was then wearing its
+winter night-cap. At last, as if weary of waiting, he walked with
+sudden precipitation towards the turnstile, and was lost to view
+within. After a moment I followed him, but was stopped by the janitor,
+who, with an air of astonishment, informed me there was sixpence to
+pay, it being a Wednesday. I understood at once why the Viscount had
+selected this day, for there was no one to be seen inside, and it was
+five minutes ere I discovered him. He was in the National Portrait
+Gallery, before one of Sir Peter Lely's insipid beauties, which to my
+surprise he was copying in pencil. Evidently he was trying to while
+away the time. At eleven o'clock to the second he scribbled something
+underneath the sketch, folded it up carefully, picked up his bundle
+and walked unhesitatingly downstairs into the second gallery, where,
+after glancing about to assure himself that the policeman's head was
+turned away, he deposited the paper between two bottles of tape-worms,
+and stole out through the back door. Feverishly seizing the sketch, I
+followed him, but the policeman's eye was now upon me, and I had to
+walk with dignified slowness, though I was in agonies lest I should
+lose my man. My anxiety was justified; when I reached the grounds, the
+Viscount was nowhere to be seen. I ran hither and thither like a
+madman, along the back street and about the grounds, hacking my shins
+against a perambulator, and at last sank upon a frigid garden seat,
+breathless and exhausted. I now bethought me of the paper clenched in
+my fist, and, smoothing it out, deciphered these words faintly
+pencilled beneath a caricature of the Court beauty:--
+
+"Not my fault you missed me. If you are still set on your folly, you
+will find me lunching at the Chingford Hotel."
+
+I sprang up exultant, new fire in my veins. True, the mystery was
+darkening, but it was the darkness that precedes the dawn.
+
+"_Cherchez la femme!_" I muttered, and darting down Three Colts Lane I
+reached the Junction, only to find the barrier dashed in my face. But
+half-a-crown drove it back, and I sprang into the guard's van on his
+very heels. A shilling stifled the oath on his lips, and transferred
+it to mine when I discovered I had jumped into the Enfield Fast.
+Before I really got to Chingford it was long past noon. But I found
+him.
+
+The Viscount was toying with a Chartreuse in the dining-room. The
+waiters eyed me suspiciously, for I was shabby and dusty and
+haggard-looking. To my surprise Dorking had doffed the sailor, and
+wore a loud checked suit! He looked up as I entered, but did not
+appear to recognise me. There was no one with him. Still I had found
+him. That was the prime thing.
+
+Becoming conscious I was faint with hunger, I took up the menu, when
+to my vexation I saw the Viscount pay his bill, and don an overcoat
+and a billy-cock, and ere I could snatch bite or sup I was striding
+along the slimy forest paths, among the gaunt, fog-wrapped trees,
+following the Viscount by his footprints whenever I lost him for a
+moment among the avenues. Dorking marched with quick, decisive steps.
+In the heart of the forest, by a great oak, whose roots sprawled in
+every direction, he came to a standstill. Hidden behind some
+brushwood, I awaited the sequel with beating heart.
+
+The Viscount took out a great coloured handkerchief, and spread it
+carefully over the roots of the oak; then he sat down on the
+handkerchief, and whistled the same bar of the same once popular air
+he had whistled outside the coffee-house. Immediately a broken-nosed
+man emerged from behind a bush, and addressed the Viscount. I strained
+my ears, but could not catch their conversation, but I heard Dorking
+laugh heartily, as he sprang up and clapped the man on the shoulder.
+They walked off together.
+
+I was now excited to the wildest degree; I forgot the pangs of baffled
+appetite; my whole being was strung to find a key to the strange
+proceedings of the mathematical Viscount. Tracking their double
+footsteps through the mist, I found them hobnobbing in a public-house
+on the forest border. After peeping in, I ran round to another door,
+and stood in an adjoining bar, where, without being seen, I could have
+a snack of bread and cheese, and hear all.
+
+"Could you bring her round to my house to-night?" said Dorking, in a
+hoarse whisper. "You shall have the money down."
+
+"Right, sir!" said the man. And then their pewters clinked.
+
+To my chagrin this was all the conversation. The Viscount strode out
+alone--except for my company. The fog had grown deeper, and I was glad
+to be conducted to the station. This time we went to Liverpool Street.
+Dorking lingered at the book-stall, and at last enquired if they had
+yesterday's _Times_. Receiving a reply in the negative, he clucked his
+tongue impatiently. Then, as with a sudden thought, he ran up to the
+North London Railway book-stall, only to be again disappointed. He
+took out the great coloured handkerchief, and wiped his forehead. Then
+he entered into confidential conversation with an undistinguished
+stranger, fat and foreign, who had been looking eagerly up and down at
+the extreme end of the platform. Re-descending into the street, he
+jumped into a Charing Cross 'bus. As he went inside I had no option
+but to go outside, though the air was yellow and I felt chilled to the
+bone.
+
+[Illustration: IN CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION WITH AN UNDISTINGUISHED
+FOREIGNER.]
+
+Alighting at Charing Cross, he went into the telegraph office, and
+wrote a telegram. The composition seemed to cause him great
+difficulty. Standing outside the door, I saw him discard two
+half-begun forms. When he came out I made a swift calculation of the
+chances, and determined to secure the two forms, even at the risk of
+losing him. Neither had an address. One read: "If you are still set on
+your fol--"; the other: "Come to-night if you are still--" Bolting out
+with these precious scraps of evidence, that only added fuel to the
+flame of curiosity that was consuming me, I turned cold to find the
+Viscount swallowed up in the crowd. After an instant's agonised
+hesitation, I hailed a hansom, and drove to his flat in Victoria
+Street. The valet told me the Viscount was ill in bed, and could not
+see me. I read in his face that it was a lie. I resolved to loiter
+outside the building till Dorking's return.
+
+I had not long to wait. In less than ten minutes a hansom discharged
+him at my feet. Had I not been prepared for anything, I should not
+have recognised him again in his red whiskers, white hat, and blue
+spectacles. He rang the bell, and enquired of his own valet if
+Viscount Dorking was at home. The man said he was ill in bed.
+
+"Oh, we'll soon put him on his legs again," interrupted Dorking, with
+a professional air, and pushed his valet aside. In that moment the
+solution dawned upon me. _Dorking was mad!_ Nothing but insanity would
+account for his day's vagaries. I felt it was my duty, as a
+fellow-creature, to look to him. I followed him, to the open-eyed
+consternation of the valet. Suddenly he turned upon me, and seized me
+savagely by the throat. I felt choking. My worst fear was confirmed.
+
+"No further, my man," he cried, flinging me back. "Now go, and tell
+her ladyship how you have earned your fee!"
+
+"Dorking! are you mad?" I gasped. "Don't you remember me--Mr.
+Pry--from the Bachelor's Club?"
+
+"Great heavens, Paul!" he cried. Then he fell back on an ottoman, and
+laughed till the whiskers ran down his sides. He always had a sense of
+humour, I remembered.
+
+We explained the situation to each other. Dorking had an eccentric
+aunt who wished to leave her money to him. Suddenly Dorking learnt
+from his valet, who was betrothed to her ladyship's maid, that she had
+taken it into her head he could not be so virtuous and so devoted to
+pure mathematics as he appeared, and so she had commissioned a
+private detective agency to watch her nephew, and discover how deep
+the still waters ran. Incensed at the suspicion, he had that day
+started a course of action calculated to bamboozle the agency, and
+having no other meaning whatever.
+
+When he caught sight of me gazing at him so curiously he mistook me
+for one of its minions, and determined to lead me a dance; the mistake
+was confirmed by my patient obedience to his piping.
+
+The broken-nosed man was an accident. Anticipating his value as a
+beautiful false clue, Dorking laughed uproariously at the sight of
+him, and readily agreed to buy a French poodle.
+
+
+
+
+The Queen's Triplets, a Nursery Tale for the old.
+
+[Illustration: The Queen's Triplets, a Nursery Tale for the old]
+
+
+Once upon a time there was a Queen who unexpectedly gave birth to
+three Princes. They were all so exactly alike that after a moment or
+two it was impossible to remember which was the eldest or which was
+the youngest. Any two of them, sort them how you pleased, were always
+twins. They all cried in the same key and with the same comic
+grimaces. In short, there was not a hair's-breadth of difference
+between them--not that they had a hair's-breadth between them, for,
+like most babies, they were prematurely bald.
+
+The King was very much put out. He did not mind the expense of keeping
+three Heir Apparents, for that fell on the country, and was defrayed
+by an impost called "The Queen's Tax." But it was the consecrated
+custom of the kingdom that the crown should pass over to the eldest
+son, and the absence of accurate knowledge upon this point was
+perplexing. A triumvirate was out of the question; the multiplication
+of monarchs would be vexation to the people, and the rule of three
+would drive them mad.
+
+The Queen was just as annoyed, though on different grounds. She felt
+it hard enough to be the one mother in the realm who could not get the
+Queen's bounty, without having to suffer the King's reproaches. Her
+heart was broken, and she died soon after of laryngitis.
+
+To distinguish the triplets (when it was too late) they were always
+dressed one in green, one in blue, and one in black, the colours of
+the national standard, and naturally got to be popularly known by the
+sobriquets of the Green Prince, the Blue Prince, and the Black Prince.
+Every year they got older and older till at last they became young
+men. And every year the King got older and older till at last he
+became an old man, and the fear crept into his heart that he might be
+restored to his wife and leave the kingdom embroiled in civil feud
+unless he settled straightway who should be the heir. But, being
+human, notwithstanding his court laureates, he put off the
+disagreeable duty from day to day, and might have died without an
+heir, if the envoys from Paphlagonia had not aroused him to the
+necessity of a decision. For they announced that the Princess of
+Paphlagonia, being suddenly orphaned, would be sent to him in the
+twelfth moon that she might marry his eldest son as covenanted by
+ancient treaty. This was the last straw. "But I don't know who is my
+eldest son!" yelled the King, who had a vast respect for covenants and
+the Constitution.
+
+In great perturbation he repaired to a famous Oracle, at that time
+worked by a priestess with her hair let down her back. The King asked
+her a plain question: "Which is my eldest son?"
+
+After foaming at the mouth like an open champagne bottle, she
+replied:--
+
+"The eldest is he that the Princess shall wed."
+
+[Illustration: "'THE ELDEST IS HE THAT THE PRINCESS SHALL WED.'"]
+
+The King said he knew that already, and was curtly told that if the
+replies did not give satisfaction he could go elsewhere. So he went to
+the wise men and the magicians, and held a levée of them, and they
+gave him such goodly counsel that the Chief Magician was henceforth
+honoured with the privilege of holding the Green, Black, and Blue
+Tricolour over the King's head at mealtimes. Soon after, it being the
+twelfth moon, the King set forward with a little retinue to meet the
+Princess of Paphlagonia, whose coming had got abroad; but returned two
+days later with the news that the Princess was confined to her room,
+and would not arrive in the city till next year.
+
+[Illustration: "THE CHIEF MAGICIAN."]
+
+On the last day of the year the King summoned the three Princes to the
+Presence Chamber. And they came, the Green Prince, and the Blue
+Prince, and the Black Prince, and made obeisance to the Monarch, who
+sat in moiré antique robes, on the old gold throne, with his courtiers
+all around him.
+
+"My sons," he said, "ye are aware that, according to the immemorial
+laws of the realm, one of you is to be my heir, only I know not which
+of you he is; the difficulty is complicated by the fact that I have
+covenanted to espouse him to the Princess of Paphlagonia, of whose
+imminent arrival ye have heard. In this dilemma there are those who
+would set the sovereignty of the State upon the hazard of a die. But
+not by such undignified methods do I deem it prudent to extort the
+designs of the gods. There are ways alike more honourable to you and
+to me of ascertaining the intentions of the fates. And first, the wise
+men and the magicians recommend that ye be all three sent forth upon
+an arduous emprise. As all men know, somewhere in the great seas that
+engirdle our dominion, somewhere beyond the Ultimate Thule, there
+rangeth a vast monster, intolerable, not to be borne. Every ninth moon
+this creature approacheth our coasts, deluging the land with an inky
+vomit. This plaguy Serpent cannot be slain, for the soothsayers aver
+it beareth a charmed life, but it were a mighty achievement, if for
+only one year, the realm could be relieved of its oppression. Are ye
+willing to set forth separately upon this knightly quest?"
+
+[Illustration: "'THERE RANGETH A VAST MONSTER.'"]
+
+Then the three Princes made enthusiastic answer, entreating to be sped
+on the journey forthwith, and a great gladness ran through the
+Presence Chamber, for all had suffered much from the annual incursions
+of the monster. And the King's heart was fain of the gallant spirit of
+the Princes.
+
+"'Tis well," said he. "To-morrow, at the first dawn of the new year,
+shall ye fare forth together; when ye reach the river ye shall part,
+and for eight moons shall ye wander whither ye will; only, when the
+ninth moon rises, shall ye return and tell me how ye have fared.
+Hasten now, therefore, and equip yourselves as ye desire, and if there
+be aught that will help you in the task, ye have but to ask for it."
+
+Then, answering quickly before his brothers could speak, the Black
+Prince cried: "Sire, I would crave the magic boat which saileth under
+the sea and destroyeth mighty armaments."
+
+"It is thine," replied the King.
+
+Then the Green Prince said: "Sire, grant me the magic car which
+saileth through the air over the great seas."
+
+The Black Prince started and frowned, but the King answered, "It is
+granted." Then, turning to the Blue Prince, who seemed lost in
+meditation, the King said: "Why art thou silent, my son? Is there
+nothing I can give thee?"
+
+"Thanks, I will take a little pigeon," answered the Blue Prince
+abstractedly.
+
+The courtiers stared and giggled, and the Black Prince chuckled, but
+the Blue Prince was seemingly too proud to back out of his request.
+
+So at sunrise on the morrow the three Princes set forth, journeying
+together till they came to the river where they had agreed to part
+company. Here the magic boat was floating at anchor, while the magic
+car was tied to the trunk of a plane-tree upon the bank, and the
+little pigeon, fastened by a thread, was fluttering among the
+branches.
+
+Now, when the Green Prince saw the puny pigeon, he was like to die of
+laughing.
+
+"Dost thou think to feed the Serpent with thy pigeon?" he sneered. "I
+fear me thou wilt not choke him off thus."
+
+"And what hast thou to laugh at?" retorted the Black Prince,
+interposing. "Dost thou think to find the Serpent of the Sea in the
+air?"
+
+"He is always in the air," murmured the Blue Prince, inaudibly.
+
+"Nay," said the Green Prince, scratching his head dubiously. "But thou
+didst so hastily annex the magic boat, I had to take the next best
+thing."
+
+"Dost thou accuse me of unfairness?" cried the Black Prince in a
+pained voice. "Sooner than thou shouldst say that, I would change with
+thee."
+
+"Wouldst thou, indeed?" enquired the Green Prince eagerly.
+
+"Ay, that would I," said the Black Prince indignantly. "Take the magic
+boat, and may the gods speed thee." So saying he jumped briskly into
+the magic car, cut the rope, and sailed aloft. Then, looking down
+contemptuously upon the Blue Prince, he shouted: "Come, mount thy
+pigeon, and be off in search of the monster."
+
+But the Blue Prince replied, "I will await you here."
+
+Then the Green Prince pushed off his boat, chuckling louder than ever.
+"Dost thou expect to keep the creature off our coasts by guarding the
+head of the river?" he scoffed.
+
+But the Blue Prince replied, "I will await you both here till the
+ninth moon."
+
+No sooner were his brothers gone than the Blue Prince set about
+building a hut. Here he lived happily, fishing his meals out of the
+river or snaring them out of the sky. The pigeon was never for a
+moment in danger of being eaten. It was employed more agreeably to
+itself and its master in operations which will appear anon. Most of
+the time the Blue Prince lay on his back among the wild flowers,
+watching the river rippling to the sea or counting the passing of the
+eight moons, that alternately swelled and dwindled, now showing like
+the orb of the Black Prince's car, now like the Green Prince's boat.
+Sometimes he read scraps of papyrus, and his face shone.
+
+One lovely starry night, as the Blue Prince was watching the heavens,
+it seemed to him as if the eighth moon in dying had dropped out of the
+firmament and was falling upon him. But it was only the Black Prince
+come back. His garments were powdered with snow, his brows were
+knitted gloomily, he had a dejected, despondent aspect.
+
+"Thou here!" he snapped.
+
+"Of course," said the Blue Prince cheerfully, though he seemed a
+little embarrassed all the same. "Haven't I been here all the time?
+But go into my hut, I've kept supper hot for thee."
+
+"Has the Green Prince had his?"
+
+"No, I haven't seen anything of him. Hast thou scotched the Serpent?"
+
+"No, I haven't seen anything of him," growled the Black Prince. "I've
+passed backwards and forwards over the entire face of the ocean, but
+nowhere have I caught the slightest glimpse of him. What a fool I was
+to give up the magic boat! He never seems to come to the surface."
+
+All this while the Blue Prince was dragging his brother with
+suspicious solicitude towards the hut, where he sat him down to his
+own supper of ortolans and oysters. But the host had no sooner run
+outside again, on the pretext of seeing if the Green Prince was
+coming, than there was a disturbance and eddying in the stream as of a
+rally of water-rats, and the magic boat shot up like a catapult, and
+the Green Prince stepped on deck all dry and dusty, and with the air
+of a draggled dragon-fly.
+
+"Good evening, hast thou er--scotched the Serpent?" stammered the Blue
+Prince, taken aback.
+
+"No, I haven't even seen anything of him," growled the Green Prince.
+"I have skimmed along the entire surface of the ocean, and sailed
+every inch beneath it, but nowhere have I caught the slightest
+glimpse of him. What a fool I was to give up the magic car! From a
+height I could have commanded an ampler area of ocean. Perhaps he was
+up the river."
+
+"No, I haven't seen anything of him," replied the Blue Prince hastily.
+"But go into my hut, thy supper must be getting quite cold." He
+hurried his verdant brother into the hut, and gave him some chestnuts
+out of the oven (it was the best he could do for him), and then rushed
+outside again, on the plea of seeing if the Serpent was coming. But he
+seemed to expect him to come from the sky, for, leaning against the
+trunk of the plane-tree by the river, he resumed his anxious scrutiny
+of the constellations. Presently there was a gentle whirring in the
+air, and a white bird became visible, flying rapidly downwards in his
+direction. Almost at the same instant he felt himself pinioned by a
+rope to the tree-trunk, and saw the legs of the alighting pigeon
+neatly prisoned in the Black Prince's fist.
+
+"Aha!" croaked the Black Prince triumphantly. "Now we shall see
+through thy little schemes."
+
+He detached the slip of papyrus which dangled from the pigeon's neck.
+
+"How darest thou read my letters?" gasped the Blue Prince.
+
+"If I dare to rob the mail, I shall certainly not hesitate to read the
+letters," answered the Black Prince coolly, and went on to enunciate
+slowly (for the light was bad) the following lines:--
+
+    "Heart-sick I watch the old moon's ling'ring death,
+    And long upon my face to feel thy breath;
+    I burn to see its final flicker die,
+    And greet our moon of honey in the sky."
+
+"What is all this moonshine?" he concluded in bewilderment.
+
+Now the Blue Prince was the soul of candour, and seeing that nothing
+could now be lost by telling the truth, he answered:--
+
+"This is a letter from a damsel who resideth in the Tower of
+Telifonia, on the outskirts of the capital; we are engaged. No doubt
+the language seemeth to thee a little overdone, but wait till thy turn
+cometh."
+
+[Illustration: THE DAMSEL OF THE TOWER.]
+
+"And so thou hast employed this pigeon as a carrier between thee and
+this suburban young person?" cried the Black Prince, feeling vaguely
+boiling over with rage.
+
+"Even so," answered his brother, "but guard thy tongue. The lady of
+whom thou speakest so disrespectfully is none other than the Princess
+of Paphlagonia."
+
+"Eh? What?" gasped the Black Prince.
+
+"She hath resided there since the twelfth moon of last year. The King
+received her the first time he set out to meet her."
+
+"Dost thou dare say the King hath spoken untruth?"
+
+"Nay, nay. The King is a wise man. Wise men never mean what they say.
+The King said she was confined to her room. It is true, for he had
+confined her in the Tower with her maidens for fear she should fall in
+love with the wrong Prince, or the reverse, before the rightful heir
+was discovered. The King said she would not arrive in the city till
+next year. This also is true. As thou didst rightly observe, the Tower
+of Telifonia is situated in the suburbs. The King did not bargain for
+my discovering that a beautiful woman lived in its topmost turret."
+
+"Nay, how couldst thou discover that? The King did not lend thee the
+magic car, and thou certainly couldst not see her at that height
+without the magic glass!"
+
+"I have not seen her. But through the embrasure I often saw the
+sunlight flashing and leaping like a thing of life, and I knew it was
+what the children call a 'Johnny Noddy.' Now a 'Johnny Noddy' argueth
+a mirror, and a mirror argueth a woman, and frequent use thereof
+argueth a beautiful woman. So, when in the Presence Chamber the King
+told us of his dilemma as to the hand of the Princess of Paphlagonia,
+it instantly dawned upon me who the beautiful woman was, and why the
+King was keeping her hidden away, and why he had hidden away his
+meaning also. Wherefore straightway I asked for a pigeon, knowing that
+the pigeons of the town roost on the Tower of Telifonia, so that I had
+but to fly my bird at the end of a long string like a kite to
+establish communication between me and the fair captive. In time my
+little messenger grew so used to the journey to and fro that I could
+dispense with the string. Our courtship has been most satisfactory. We
+love each other ardently, and--"
+
+"But you have never seen each other!" interrupted the Black Prince.
+
+"Thou forgettest we are both royal personages," said the Blue Prince
+in astonished reproof.
+
+"But this is gross treachery--what right hadst thou to make these
+underhand advances in our absence?"
+
+"Thou forgettest I had to scotch the Serpent," said the Blue Prince in
+astonished reproof. "Thou forgettest also that she can only marry the
+heir to the throne."
+
+"Ah, true!" said the Black Prince, considerably relieved. "And as thou
+hast chosen to fritter away the time in making love to her, thou hast
+taken the best way to lose her."
+
+"Thou forgettest I shall have to marry her," said the Blue Prince in
+astonished reproof. "Not only because I have given my word to a lady,
+but because I have promised the King to do my best to scotch the
+Serpent of the Sea. Really thou seemest terribly dull to-day. Let me
+put the matter in a nutshell. If he who scotches the Sea Serpent is to
+marry the Princess, then would I scotch the Sea Serpent by marrying
+the Princess, and marry the Princess to scotch the Sea Serpent. Thou
+hast searched the face of the sea, and our brother has dragged its
+depths, and nowhere have ye seen the Sea Serpent. Yet in the ninth
+moon he will surely come, and the land will be covered with an inky
+vomit as in former years. But if I marry the Princess of Paphlagonia
+in the ninth moon, the Royal Wedding will ward off the Sea Serpent,
+and not a scribe will shed ink to tell of his advent. Therefore,
+instead of ranging through the earth, I stayed at home and paid my
+addresses to the--"
+
+"Yes, yes, what a fool I was!" interrupted the Black Prince, smiting
+his brow with his palm, so that the pigeon escaped from between his
+fingers, and winged its way back to the Tower of Telifonia as if to
+carry his words to the Princess.
+
+"Thou forgettest thou art a fool still," said the Blue Prince in
+astonished reproof. "Prithee, unbind me forthwith."
+
+"Nay, I am a fool no longer, for it is I that shall wed the Princess
+of Paphlagonia and scotch the Sea Serpent, it is I that have sent the
+pigeon to and fro, and unless thou makest me thine oath to be silent
+on the matter I will slay thee and cast thy body into the river."
+
+"Thou forgettest our brother, the Green Prince," said the Blue Prince
+in astonished reproof.
+
+"Bah! he hath eyes for naught but the odd ortolans and oysters I
+sacrificed that he might gorge himself withal, while I spied out thy
+secret. He shall be told that I returned to exchange my car for thy
+pigeon even as I exchanged my boat for his car. Come, thine oath or
+thou diest." And a jewelled scimitar shimmered in the starlight.
+
+[Illustration: "A JEWELLED SCIMITAR SHIMMERED IN THE STARLIGHT."]
+
+The Blue Prince reflected that though life without love was hardly
+worth living, death was quite useless. So he swore and went in to
+supper. When he found that the Green Prince had not spared even a
+baked chestnut before he fell asleep, he swore again. And on the
+morrow when the Princes approached the Tower of Telifonia, with its
+flashing "Johnny Noddy," they met a courier from the King, who, having
+informed himself of the Black Prince's success, ran ahead with the
+rumour thereof. And lo! when the Princes passed through the city gate
+they found the whole population abroad clad in all their bravery, and
+flags flying and bells ringing and roses showering from the balconies,
+and merry music swelling in all the streets for joy of the prospect of
+the Sea Serpent's absence. And when the new moon rose, the three
+Princes, escorted by flute-players, hied them to the Presence Chamber,
+and the King embraced his sons, and the Black Prince stood forward and
+explained that if a Prince were married in the ninth moon it would
+prevent the monster's annual visit. Then the King fell upon the Black
+Prince's neck and wept and said, "My son! my son! my pet! my baby! my
+tootsicums! my popsy-wopsy!"
+
+And then, recovering himself, and addressing the courtiers, he said:
+"The gods have enabled me to discover my youngest son. If they will
+only now continue as propitious, so that I may discover the elder of
+the other two, I shall die not all unhappy."
+
+[Illustration: "'THE GODS HAVE ENABLED ME TO DISCOVER MY YOUNGEST
+SON.'"]
+
+But the Black Prince could repress his astonishment no longer. "Am I
+dreaming, sire?" he cried. "Surely I have proved myself the eldest,
+not the youngest!"
+
+"Thou forgettest that thou hast come off successful," replied the King
+in astonished reproof. "Or art thou so ignorant of history or of the
+sacred narratives handed down to us by our ancestors that thou art
+unaware that when three brothers set out on the same quest, it is
+always the youngest brother that emerges triumphant? Such is the will
+of the gods. Cease, therefore, thy blasphemous talk, lest they
+overhear thee and be put out."
+
+A low, ominous murmur from the courtiers emphasised the King's
+warning.
+
+"But the Princess--she at least is mine," protested the unhappy
+Prince. "We love each other--we are engaged."
+
+"Thou forgettest she can only marry the heir," replied the King in
+astonished reproof. "Wouldst thou have us repudiate our solemn
+treaty?"
+
+"But I wasn't really the first to hit on the idea at all!" cried the
+Black Prince desperately. "Ask the Blue Prince! he never telleth
+untruth."
+
+"Thou forgettest I have taken an oath of silence on the matter,"
+replied the Blue Prince in astonished reproof. "The Black Prince it
+was that first hit on the idea," volunteered the Green Prince. "He
+exchanged his boat for the car and the car for the pigeon."
+
+So the three Princes were dismissed, while the King took counsel with
+the magicians and the wise men who never mean what they say. And the
+Court Chamberlain, wearing the orchid of office in his buttonhole, was
+sent to interview the Princess, and returned saying that she refused
+to marry any one but the proprietor of the pigeon, and that she still
+had his letters as evidence in case of his marrying anyone else.
+
+"Bah!" said the King, "she shall obey the treaty. Six feet of
+parchment are not to be put aside for the whim of a girl five foot
+eight. The only real difficulty remaining is to decide whether the
+Blue Prince or the Green Prince is the elder. Let me see--what was it
+the Oracle said? Perhaps it will be clearer now:--
+
+    "'The eldest is he that the Princess shall wed.'
+
+"No, it still seems merely to avoid stating anything new."
+
+"Pardon me, sire," replied the Chief Magician; "it seems perfectly
+plain now. Obviously, thou art to let the Princess choose her husband,
+and the Oracle guarantees that, other things being equal, she shall
+select the eldest. If thou hadst let her have the pick from among the
+three, she would have selected the one with whom she was in love--the
+Black Prince to wit, and that would have interfered with the Oracle's
+arrangements. But now that we know with whom she is in love, we can
+remove that one, and then, there being no reason why she should choose
+the Green Prince rather than the Blue Prince, the deities of the realm
+undertake to inspire her to go by age only."
+
+"Thou hast spoken well," said the King. "Let the Princess of
+Paphlagonia be brought, and let the two Princes return."
+
+So after a space the beautiful Princess, preceded by trumpeters, was
+conducted to the Palace, blinking her eyes at the unaccustomed
+splendour of the lights. And the King and all the courtiers blinked
+their eyes, dazzled by her loveliness. She was clad in white samite,
+and on her shoulder was perched a pet pigeon. The King sat in his
+moiré robes on the old gold throne, and the Blue Prince stood on his
+right hand, and the Green Prince on his left, the Black Prince as the
+youngest having been sent to bed early. The Princess courtesied three
+times, the third time so low that the pigeon was flustered, and flew
+off her shoulder, and, after circling about, alighted on the head of
+the Blue Prince.
+
+[Illustration: "THE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS, PRECEDED BY TRUMPETERS, WAS
+CONDUCTED TO THE PALACE."]
+
+"It is the Crown," said the Chief Magician, in an awestruck voice.
+Then the Princess's eyes looked around in search of the pigeon, and
+when they lighted on the Prince's head they kindled as the grey sea
+kindles at sunrise.
+
+An answering radiance shone in the Blue Prince's eyes, as, taking the
+pigeon that nestled in his hair, he let it fly towards the Princess.
+But the Princess, her bosom heaving as if another pigeon fluttered
+beneath the white samite, caught it and set it free again, and again
+it made for the Blue Prince.
+
+Three times the bird sped to and fro. Then the Princess raised her
+humid eyes heavenward, and from her sweet lips rippled like music the
+verse:--
+
+    "Last night I watched its final flicker die."
+
+And the Blue Prince answered:--
+
+    "_Now_ greet our moon of honey in the sky."
+
+Half fainting with rapture the Princess fell into his arms, and from
+all sides of the great hall arose the cries, "The Heir! The Heir! Long
+live our future King! The eldest-born! The Oracle's fulfilled!"
+
+Such was the origin of lawn tennis, which began with people tossing
+pigeons to each other in imitation of the Prince and Princess in the
+Palace Hall. And this is why love plays so great a part in the game,
+and that is how the match was arranged between the Blue Prince and the
+Princess of Paphlagonia.
+
+
+
+
+_A Successful Operation._
+
+
+Robert came home, anxious and perturbed. For the first time since his
+return from their honeymoon he crossed the threshold of the tiny house
+without a grateful sense of blessedness.
+
+"What is it, Robert?" panted Mary, her sweet lips cold from his
+perfunctory kiss.
+
+"He is going blind," he said in low tones.
+
+"Not your father!" she murmured, dazed.
+
+"Yes, my father! I thought it was nothing, or rather I scarcely
+thought about it at all. The doctor at the Eye Hospital merely asked
+him to bring some one with him next time; naturally he came to me."
+There was a touch of bitterness about the final phrase.
+
+"Oh, how terrible!" said Mary. Her pretty face looked almost wan.
+
+"I don't see that you're called upon to distress yourself so much,
+dear," said Robert, a little resentfully. "He hasn't even been a
+friend to you."
+
+"Oh, Robert! how can you think of all that now? If he did try to keep
+you from marrying a penniless, friendless girl, if he did force you to
+work long years for me, was it not all for the best? Now that his
+fortune has been swept away, where would you be without money or
+occupation?"
+
+"Where would Providence be without its women-defenders?" murmured
+Robert. "You don't understand finance, dear. He might easily have
+provided for me long before the crash came."
+
+"Never mind, Robert. Are we not all the happier for having waited for
+each other?" And in the spiritual ecstasy of her glance he forgot for
+a while his latest trouble.
+
+Robert's father lived in a little room on a small allowance made him
+by his outcast son. Broken by age and misfortune, he pottered about
+chess-rooms and debating forums, garrulous and dogmatic, and given to
+tippling. But now the consciousness of his coming infirmity crushed
+him, and he sat for days on his bed brooding, waiting in terror for
+the darkness, and glad when day after day ended only in the shadows of
+eve. Sometimes, instead of the dreaded darkness, sunlight came. That
+was when Mary dropped in to cheer him up, and to repeat to him that
+the hospital took a most hopeful view of his case, was only waiting
+for the darkness to be thickest to bring back the dawn. It took four
+months before the light faded utterly, and then another month before
+the film was opaque enough to allow the cataract to be couched. The
+old man was to go into the hospital for the operation. Robert hired a
+lad to be with him during the month of waiting, and sometimes sat with
+him in the evenings, after business, and now and then the landlady
+looked in and told him her troubles, and the attendant was faithful
+and went out frequently to buy him gin. But it was only Mary who could
+really soothe him now, for the poor old creature's soul groped blindly
+amid new apprehensions--a nervous dread of the chloroforming, the
+puncturing, the strange sounds of voices of the great blank hospital,
+where he felt confusedly he would be lost in an ocean of unfathomable
+night, incapable even of divining, from past experience, the walls
+about him or the ceiling over his head, and withal a paralysing
+foreboding that the operation would be a failure, that he would live
+out the rest of his days with the earth prematurely over his eyes.
+
+"I am very glad to see you, my dear," he would say when Mary came, and
+then he fell a-maundering self-pitifully.
+
+Mary went home one day and said, "Robert, dear, I have been thinking."
+
+"Yes, my pet," he said encouragingly, for she looked timid and
+hesitant.
+
+"Couldn't we have the operation performed here?"
+
+He was startled; protested, pointed out the impossibility. But she had
+answers for all his objections. They could give up their own bedroom
+for a fortnight--it would only be a fortnight or three weeks at
+most--turn their sitting-room into a bedroom for themselves. What if
+infinite care would be necessary in regulating the "dark room," surely
+they could be as careful as the indifferent hospital nurses if they
+were only told what to do, and as for the trouble, that wasn't worth
+considering.
+
+"But you forget, my foolish little girl," he said at last, "if he
+comes here we shall have to pay the expenses of the operation
+ourselves."
+
+"Well, would that be much?" she asked innocently.
+
+"Only fifty guineas or so, I should think," he replied crushingly.
+"What with the operating fee, and the nurse, and the subsequent
+medical attendance."
+
+But Mary was not altogether crushed. "It wouldn't be all our savings,"
+she murmured.
+
+"Are you forgetting what we shall be needing our savings for?" he said
+with gentle reproach, as he stroked her soft hair.
+
+She blushed angelically. "No, but surely there will be enough left
+and--and I shall be making all his things myself--and by that time we
+shall have put by a little more."
+
+In the end she conquered. The old man, to whom no faintest glimmer now
+penetrated, was installed in the best bedroom, which was darkened by
+double blinds and strips of cloth over every chink and a screen before
+the door; and a nurse sat on guard lest any ray or twinkle should find
+its way into the pitchy gloom. The great specialist came with two
+assistants, and departed in an odour of chloroform, conscious of
+another dexterous deed, to return only when the critical moment of
+raising the bandage should have arrived. During the fortnight of
+suspense an assistant replaced him, and the old man lay quiet and
+hopeful, rousing himself to talk dogmatically to his visitors. Mary
+gave him such time as she could spare from household duties, and he
+always kissed her on the forehead (so that his bandage just grazed her
+hair), remarking he was very glad to see her. It was a strange
+experience, these conversations carried on in absolute darkness, and
+they gave her a feeling of kinship with the blind. She discovered that
+smiles were futile, and that laughter alone availed in this uncanny
+intercourse. For compensation, her face could wear an anxious
+expression without alarming the patient. But it rarely did, for her
+spirits mounted with his. Before the operation she had been terribly
+anxious, wondering at the last moment if it would not have been
+performed more safely at the hospital, and ready to take upon her
+shoulders the responsibility for a failure. But as day after day went
+by, and all seemed going well, her thoughts veered round. She felt
+sure they would not have been so careful at the hospital. It was owing
+to this new confidence that one fatal night, carrying her candle, she
+walked mechanically into her bedroom, forgetting it was not hers. The
+nurse sprang up instantly, rushed forward, and blew out the light.
+Mary screamed, the screen fell with a clatter, the blind old man awoke
+and shrieked nervously--it was a terrible moment.
+
+After that Mary went through agonies of apprehension and remorse.
+Fortunately the end of the operation was very near now. In a day or
+two the great specialist came to remove the bandage, while the nurse
+carefully admitted a feeble illumination. If the patient could see
+now, the rest was a mere matter of time, of cautious gradation of
+light in the sick chamber, so that there might be no relapse. Mary
+dared not remain in the room at the instant of supreme crisis; she
+lingered outside, overwrought. Slowly, with infinite solicitude, the
+bandage was raised.
+
+"Can you see anything?" burst from Robert's lips.
+
+"Yes, but what makes the window look red?" grumbled the old man.
+
+"I congratulate you," said the great specialist in loud, hearty
+accents.
+
+"Thank God!" sobbed Mary's voice outside.
+
+When her child was born it was blind.
+
+
+
+
+_Flutter-Duck._
+
+_A GHETTO GROTESQUE._
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+FLUTTER-DUCK IN FEATHER.
+
+    "So sitting, served by man and maid,
+    She felt her heart grow prouder."
+
+        --TENNYSON: _The Goose_.
+
+Although everybody calls her "Flutter-Duck" now, there was a time when
+the inventor had exclusive rights in the nickname, and used it only in
+the privacy of his own apartment. That time did not last long, for the
+inventor was Flutter-Duck's husband, and his apartment was a
+public work-room among other things. He gave her the name in
+Yiddish--_Flatterkatchki_--a descriptive music in syllables, full of
+the flutter and quack of the farm-yard. It expressed his
+dissatisfaction with her airy, flighty propensities, her love of
+gaiety and gadding. She was a butterfly, irresponsible, off to balls
+and parties almost once a month, and he, a self-conscious ant,
+resented her. From the point of view of piety she was also sadly to
+seek, rejecting wigs in favour of the fringe. In the weak moments of
+early love her husband had acquiesced in the profanity, but later all
+the gain to her soft prettiness did not compensate for the twinges of
+his conscience.
+
+Flutter-Duck's husband was a furrier--a master-furrier, for did he not
+run a workshop? This workshop was also his living-room, and this
+living-room was also his bedroom. It was a large front room on the
+first floor, over a chandler's shop in an old-fashioned house in
+Montague Street, Whitechapel. Its shape was peculiar--an oblong
+stretching streetwards, interrupted in one of the longer walls by a
+square projection that might have been accounted a room in itself (by
+the landlord), and was, indeed, used as a kitchen. That the fireplace
+had been built in this corner was thus an advantage. Entering through
+the door on the grand staircase, you found yourself nearest the window
+with the bulk of the room on your left, and the square recess at the
+other end of your wall, so that you could not see it at first. At the
+window, which, of course, gave on Montague Street, was the bare wooden
+table at which the "hands"--man, woman, and boy--sat and stitched. The
+finished work--a confusion of fur caps, boas, tippets, and
+trimmings--hung over the dirty wainscot between the door and the
+recess. The middle of the room was quite bare, to give the workers
+freedom of movement, but the wall facing you was a background for
+luxurious furniture. First--nearest the window--came a sofa, on which
+even in the first years of marriage Flutter-Duck's husband sometimes
+lay prone, too unwell to do more than superintend the operations, for
+he was of a consumptive habit. Over the sofa hung a large gilt-framed
+mirror, the gilt protected by muslin drapings, in the corners of which
+flyblown paper flowers grew. Next to the sofa was a high chest of
+drawers crowned with dusty decanters, and after an interval filled up
+with the Sabbath clothes hanging on pegs and covered by a white sheet;
+the bed used up the rest of the space, its head and one side touching
+the walls, and its foot stretching towards the kitchen fire. On the
+wall above this fire hung another mirror,--small and narrow, and full
+of wavering, watery reflections,--also framed in muslin, though this
+time the muslin served to conceal dirt, not to protect gilt. The
+kitchen-dresser, decorated with pink needle-work paper, was at right
+angles to the fireplace, and it faced the kitchen table, at which
+Flutter-Duck cleaned fish, peeled potatoes, and made meat _kosher_ by
+salting and soaking it, as Rabbinic law demanded.
+
+By the foot of the bed, in the narrow wall opposite the window, was a
+door leading to a tiny inner room. For years this door remained
+locked; another family lived on the other side, and the furrier had
+neither the means nor the need for an extra bedroom. It was a room
+made for escapades and romances, connected with the back-yard by a
+steep ladder, up and down which the family might be seen going, and
+from which you could tumble into a broken-headed water-butt, or, by a
+dexterous back-fall, arrive in a dustbin. Jacob's ladder the
+neighbours called it, though the family name was Isaacs.
+
+And over everything was the trail of the fur. The air was full of a
+fine fluff--a million little hairs floated about the room covering
+everything, insinuating themselves everywhere, getting down the backs
+of the workers and tickling them, getting into their lungs and making
+them cough, getting into their food and drink and sickening them till
+they learnt callousness. They awoke with "furred" tongues, and they
+went to bed with them. The irritating filaments gathered on their
+clothes, on their faces, on the crockery, on the sofa, on the mirrors
+(big and little), on the bed, on the decanters, on the sheet that hid
+the Sabbath clothes--an impalpable down overlaying everything,
+penetrating even to the drinking-water in the board-covered zinc
+bucket, and covering "Rebbitzin," the household cat, with foreign
+fur. And in this room, drawing such breath of life, they sat--man,
+woman, boy--bending over boas bewitching young ladies would skate in;
+stitch, stitch, from eight till two and from three to eight, with
+occasional overtime that ran on now and again far into the next day;
+till their eyelids would not keep open any longer, and they couched on
+the floor on a heap of finished work; stitch, stitch, winter and
+summer, all day long, swallowing hirsute bread and butter at nine in
+the morning, and pausing at tea-time for five o'clock fur. And when
+twilight fell the gas was lit in the crowded room, thickening still
+further the clogged atmosphere, charged with human breaths and street
+odours, and wafts from the kitchen corner and the leathery smell of
+the dyed skins; and at times the yellow fog would steal in to
+contribute its clammy vapours. And often of a winter's morning the fog
+arrived early, and the gas that had lighted the first hours of work
+would burn on all day in the thick air, flaring on the Oriental
+figures with that strange glamour of gas-light in fog, and throwing
+heavy shadows on the bare boards; glazing with satin sheen the pendent
+snakes of fur, illuming the bowed heads of the workers and the
+master's sickly face under the tasselled smoking-cap, and touching up
+the faded fineries of Flutter-Duck, as she flitted about, chattering
+and cooking.
+
+Into such an atmosphere Flutter-Duck one day introduced a daughter,
+the "hands" getting an afternoon off, in honour not of the occasion
+but of decency. After that the crying of an infant became a feature of
+existence in the furrier's workshop; gradually it got rarer, as little
+Rachel grew up and reconciled herself to life. But the fountain of
+tears never quite ran dry. Rachel was a passionate child, and did not
+enjoy the best of parents.
+
+Every morning Flutter-Duck, who felt very grateful to Heaven for this
+crowning boon,--at one time bitterly dubious,--made the child say her
+prayers. Flutter-Duck said them word by word, and Rachel repeated
+them. They were in Hebrew, and neither Flutter-Duck nor Rachel had the
+least idea what they meant. For years these prayers preluded stormy
+scenes.
+
+"_Médiâni!_" Flutter-Duck would begin.
+
+"_Médiâni!_" little Rachel would lisp in her piping voice. It was two
+words, but Flutter-Duck imagined it was one. She gave the syllables in
+recitative, the _âni_ just two notes higher than the _médi_, and she
+accented them quite wrongly. When Rachel first grew articulate,
+Flutter-Duck was so overjoyed to hear the little girl echoing her,
+that she would often turn to her husband with an exclamation of "Thou
+hearest, Lewis, love?"
+
+And he, impatiently: "Nee, nee, I hear."
+
+Flutter-Duck, thus recalled from the pleasures of maternity to its
+duties, would recommence the prayer. "_Médiâni!_"
+
+Which little Rachel would silently ignore.
+
+"_Médiâni!_" Flutter-Duck's tone would now be imperative and
+ill-tempered.
+
+Then little Rachel would turn to her father querulously. "She thayth
+it again, _Médiâni_, father!"
+
+And Flutter-Duck, outraged by this childish insolence, would exclaim,
+"Thou hearest, Lewis, love?" and incontinently fall to clouting the
+child. And the father, annoyed by the shrill ululation consequent upon
+the clouting: "Nee, nee, I hear too much." Rachel's refusal to be
+coerced into giving devotional over-measure was not merely due to her
+sense of equity. Her appetite counted for more. Prayers were the
+avenue to breakfast, and to pamper her featherheaded mother in
+repetitions was to put back the meal. Flutter-Duck was quite capable
+of breaking down, even in the middle, if her attention was distracted
+for a moment, and of trying back from the very beginning. She would,
+for example, get as far as "Hear--my daughter--the instruction--of thy
+mother," giving out the words one by one in the sacred language which
+was to her abracadabra.
+
+And little Rachel, equally in the dark, would repeat obediently,
+"Hear--my daughter--the instruction of--thy mother." Then the kettle
+would boil, or Flutter-Duck would overhear a remark made by one of the
+"hands," and interject: "Yes, I'd _give_ him!" or, "A fat lot _she_
+knows about it," or some phrase of that sort; after which she would
+grope for the lost thread of prayer, and end by ejaculating
+desperately:--
+
+"_Médiâni!_"
+
+And the child sternly setting her face against this flippancy, there
+would be slapping and screaming, and if the father protested,
+Flutter-Duck would toss her head, and rejoin in her most dignified
+English: "If I bin a mother, I bin a mother!"
+
+To the logical adult it will be obvious that the little girl's
+obstinacy put the breakfast still further back; but then, obstinate
+little girls are not logical, and when Rachel had been beaten she
+would eat no breakfast at all. She sat sullenly in the corner, her
+pretty face swollen by weeping, and her great black eyes suffused with
+tears. Only her father could coax her then. He would go so far as to
+allow her to nurse "Rebbitzin," without reminding her that the
+creature's touch would make her forget all she knew, and convert her
+into a "cat's-head." And certainly Rachel always forgot not to touch
+the cat. Possibly the basis of her father's psychological superstition
+was the fact that the cat is an unclean animal, not to be handled,
+for he would not touch puss himself, though her pious title of
+"Rebbitzin," or Rabbi's wife, was the invention of this master of
+nicknames. But for such flashes no one would have suspected the stern
+little man of humour. But he had it--dry. He called the cat
+"Rebbitzin" ever since the day she refused to drink milk after meat.
+Perhaps she was gorged with the meat. But he insisted that the cat had
+caught religion through living in a Jewish family, and he developed a
+theory that she would not eat meat till it was _kosher_, so that in
+its earlier stages it might be exposed without risk of feline larceny.
+
+Cats are soothing to infants, but they ceased to satisfy Rachel when
+she grew up. Her education, while it gratified Her Majesty's
+Inspectors, was not calculated to eradicate the domestic rebel in her.
+At school she learnt of the existence of two Hebrew words, called
+_Moudeh anî_, but it was not till some time after that it flashed upon
+her that they were closely related to _Médiâni_, and the discovery did
+not improve her opinion of her mother. She was a bonny child, who
+promised to be a beautiful girl, and her teachers petted her. They
+dressed well, these teachers, and Rachel ceased to consider
+Flutter-Duck's Sabbath shawl the standard of taste and splendour. Ere
+she was in her teens she grumbled at her home surroundings, and even
+fell foul of the all-pervading fur, thereby quarrelling with her
+bread and butter in more senses than one. She would open the
+window--strangely fastidious--to eat her bread and butter off the
+broad ledge outside the room, but often the fur only came flying the
+faster to the spot, as if in search of air; and in the winter her
+pretentious queasiness set everybody remonstrating and shivering in
+the sudden draught.
+
+Her objection to fur did not, however, embrace the preparation of it,
+for after school hours the little girl sat patiently stitching till
+late at night, by way of apprenticeship to her future, buoyed up by
+her earnings, and adding strip to strip, with the hair going all the
+same way, till she had made a great black snake. Of course she did not
+get anything near three-halfpence for twelve yards, like the real
+"hands," but whatever she earnt went towards her Festival frocks,
+which she would have got in any case. Not knowing this, she was happy
+to deserve the pretty dresses she loved, and was least impatient of
+her mother's chatter when Flutter-Duck dinned into her ears how pretty
+she looked in them. Alas! it is to be feared Lewis was right, that
+Flutter-Duck was a rattle-brain indeed. And the years which brought
+Flutter-Duck prosperity, which emancipated her from personal
+participation in the sewing, and gave Rachel the little bedroom to
+herself, did not bring wisdom. When Flutter-Duck's felicity culminated
+in a maid-servant (if only one who slept out), she was like a child
+with a monkey-on-a-stick. She gave the servant orders merely to see
+her arms and legs moving. She also lay late in bed to enjoy the
+spectacle of the factotum making the nine o'clock coffee it had been
+for so many years her own duty to prepare for the "hands." How sweetly
+the waft of chicory came to her nostrils! At first her husband
+remonstrated.
+
+"It is not beautiful," he said. "You ought to get up before the
+'hands' come."
+
+Flutter-Duck flushed resentfully. "If I bin a missis, I bin a missis,"
+she said with dignity. It became one of her formulæ. When the servant
+developed insolence, as under Flutter-Duck's fostering familiarity she
+did, Flutter-Duck would resume her dignity with a jerk.
+
+"If I bin a missis," she would say, tossing her flighty head
+haughtily, "I bin a missis."
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A MIGRATORY BIRD.
+
+    "There strode a stranger to the door,
+    And it was windy weather."
+
+        --TENNYSON: _The Goose_.
+
+One day, when Rachel was nineteen, there came to the workshop a
+handsome young man. He had been brought by a placard in the window of
+the chandler's shop, and was found to answer perfectly to its wants.
+He took his place at the work-table, and soon came to the front as a
+wage-earner, wielding a dexterous needle that rarely snapped, even in
+white fur. His name was Emanuel Lefkovitch, and his seat was next to
+Rachel's. For Rachel had long since entered into her career, and the
+beauty of her early-blossoming womanhood was bent day after day over
+strips of rabbit-skin, which she made into sealskin jackets. For
+compensation to her youth Rachel walked out on the Sabbath elegantly
+attired in the latest fashion. She ordered her own frocks now, having
+a banking account of her own, in a tin box that was hidden away in her
+little bedroom. Her father honourably paid her a wage as large as she
+would have got elsewhere--otherwise she would have gone there. Her
+Sabbath walks extended as far as Hyde Park, and she loved to watch the
+fine ladies cantering in the Row, or lolling in luxurious carriages.
+Sometimes she even peeped into fashionable restaurants. She became the
+admiring disciple of a girl who worked at a Jewish furrier's in Regent
+Street, and whose occidental habitat gave her a halo of aristocracy.
+Even on Friday nights Rachel would disappear from the sacred
+domesticity of the Sabbath hearth, and Flutter-Duck suspected that
+she went to the Cambridge Music Hall in Spitalfields. This led to
+dramatic scenes, for Rachel's frowardness had not decreased with age.
+If she had only gone out with some accredited young man, Flutter-Duck
+could have borne the scandal in view of the joyous prospect of
+becoming a grandmother. But no! Rachel tolerated no matrimonial
+advances, not even from the most seductive of _Shadchanim_, though
+her voluptuous figure and rosy lips marked her out for the
+marriage-broker's eye. Her father had grown sterner with the growth of
+his malady, and though at the bottom of his heart he loved and was
+proud of his beautiful Rachel, the words that rose to his lips were
+often as harsh and bitter as Flutter-Duck's own, so that the girl
+would withdraw sullenly into herself and hold no converse with her
+parents for days.
+
+Nevertheless, there were plenty of halcyon intervals, especially in
+the busy season, when the extra shillings made the whole work-room
+brisk and happy, and the furriers gossiped of this and that, and told
+stories more droll than decorous. And then, too, every day was a
+delightfully inevitable sweep towards the Sabbath, and every Sabbath
+was a spoke in the great revolving wheel that brought round to them
+picturesque Festivals, or solemn Fasts, scarcely less enjoyable. And
+so there was an undercurrent of poetry below the sordid prose of daily
+life, and rifts in the grey fog, through which they caught glimpses of
+the azure vastness overarching the world. And the advent of Emanuel
+Lefkovitch distinctly lightened the atmosphere. His handsome face, his
+gay spirits, were like an influx of ozone. Rachel was perceptibly the
+brighter for his presence. She was gentler to everybody, even to her
+parents, and chatted vivaciously, and walked with an airier step! The
+sickly master-furrier's face lit up with pleasure as from his sofa he
+watched Emanuel's assiduous attentions to his girl in the way of
+picking up scissors and threading needles, and he frowned when
+Flutter-Duck hovered about the young man, chattering and monopolising
+his conversation.
+
+But one fine morning, some months after Emanuel's arrival, a change
+came over the spirit of the scene. There was a knock at the door, and
+an ugly, shabby woman, in a green tartan shawl, entered. She
+scrutinised the room sharply, then uttered a joyful cry of "Emanuel,
+my love!" and threw herself upon the handsome young man with an
+affectionate embrace. Emanuel, flushed and paralysed, was a ludicrous
+figure, and the workers tittered, not unfamiliar with marital
+_contretemps_.
+
+"Let me be," he said sullenly at last, as he untwined her dogged arms.
+"I tell you I won't have anything to do with you. It's no use."
+
+"Oh no, Emanuel, love, don't say that; not after all these months?"
+
+"Go away!" cried Emanuel hoarsely.
+
+"Be not so obstinate," she persisted, in wheedling accents, stroking
+his flaming cheeks. "Kiss little Joshua and little Miriam."
+
+Here the spectators became aware of two woebegone infants dragging at
+her skirts.
+
+"Go away!" repeated Emanuel passionately, and pushed her from him with
+violence.
+
+The ugly, shabby woman burst into hysterical tears.
+
+"My own husband, dear people," she sobbed, addressing the room. "My
+own husband--married to me in Poland five years ago. See, I have the
+_Cesubah_!" She half drew the marriage parchment from her bosom. "And
+he won't live with me! Every time he runs away from me. Last time I
+saw him was in Liverpool, on the eve of Tabernacles. And before that
+I had to go and find him in Newcastle, and he promised me never to go
+away again--yes, you did, you know you did, Emanuel, love. And here
+have I been looking weeks for you at all the furriers and tailors,
+without bread and salt for the children, and the Board of Guardians
+won't believe me, and blame me for coming to London. Oh, Emanuel,
+love, God shall forgive you."
+
+Her dress was dishevelled, her wig awry; big tears streamed down her
+cheeks.
+
+"How can I live with an old witch like that?" asked Emanuel, in brutal
+self-defence.
+
+"There are worse than me in the world," rejoined the woman meekly.
+
+"Nee, nee," roughly interposed the master-furrier, who had risen from
+his sofa in the excitement of the scene. "It is not beautiful not to
+live with one's wife." He paused to cough. "You must not put her to
+shame."
+
+"It's she who puts me to shame." Emanuel turned to Rachel, who had let
+her work slip to the floor, and whose face had grown white and stern,
+and continued deprecatingly, "I never wanted her. They caught me by a
+trick."
+
+"Don't talk to me," snapped Rachel, turning her back on him.
+
+The woman looked at her suspiciously--the girl's beauty seemed to
+burst upon her for the first time. "He is my husband," she repeated,
+and made as if she would draw out the _Cesubah_ again.
+
+"Nee, nee, enough!" said the master-furrier curtly. "You are wasting
+our time. Your husband shall live with you, or he shall not work with
+me."
+
+"You have deceived us, you rogue!" put in Flutter-Duck shrilly.
+
+"Did I ever say I was a single man?" retorted Emanuel, shrugging his
+shoulders.
+
+"There! He confesses it!" cried his wife in glee. "Come, Emanuel,
+love," and she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him
+passionately. "Do not be obstinate."
+
+"I can't come now," he said, with sulky facetiousness. "Where are you
+living?"
+
+She told him, and he said he would come when work was over.
+
+"On your faith?" she asked, with another uneasy glance at Rachel.
+
+"On my faith," he answered.
+
+She moved towards the door, with her draggle-tail of infants. As she
+was vanishing, he called shame-facedly to the departing children,--
+
+"Well, Joshua! Well, Miriam! Is this the way one treats a father? A
+nice way your mother has brought you up!"
+
+They came back to him dubiously, with unwashed, pathetic faces, and he
+kissed them. Rachel bent down to pick up her rabbit-skin. Work was
+resumed in dead silence.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+FLIGHT.
+
+    "The goose flew this way and flew that,
+    And filled the house with clamour."
+
+        --TENNYSON: _The Goose_.
+
+Flutter-Duck could not resist rushing in to show the gorgeous goose
+she had bought from a man in the street--a most wonderful bargain.
+Although it was only a Wednesday, why should they not have a goose?
+They were at the thick of the busy season, and the winter promised to
+be bitter, so they could afford it.
+
+"Nee, nee; there are enough Festivals in our religion already,"
+grumbled her husband, who, despite his hacking cough, had been driven
+to the work-table by the plentifulness of work and the scarcity of
+"hands."
+
+"Almost as big a goose as herself!" whispered Emanuel Lefkovitch to
+his circle. He had made his peace with his wife, and was again become
+the centre of the work-room's gaiety. "What a bargain!" he said aloud,
+clucking his tongue with admiration. And Flutter-Duck, consoled for
+her husband's criticism, scurried out again to have her bargain killed
+by the official slaughterer.
+
+When she returned, doleful and indignant, with the goose still in her
+basket, and the news that the functionary had refused it Jewish
+execution, and pronounced it _tripha_ (unclean) for some minute ritual
+reason, she broke off her denunciation of the vendor from a sudden
+perception that some graver misfortune had happened in her absence.
+
+"Nee, nee," said Lewis, when she stopped her chatter. "Decidedly God
+will not have us make Festival to-day. Even you must work."
+
+"Me?" gasped Flutter-Duck.
+
+Then she learnt that Emanuel Lefkovitch, whom she had left so gay, had
+been taken with acute pains--and had had to go home. And work pressed,
+and Flutter-Duck must under-study him in all her spare moments. She
+was terribly vexed--she had arranged to go and see an old crony's
+daughter married in the Synagogue that afternoon, and she would have
+to give that up, if indeed her husband did not even expect her to give
+up the ball in the evening. She temporarily tethered the goose's leg
+to a bed-post by a long string, so that for the rest of the day the
+big bird waddled pompously about the floor and under the bed,
+unconscious to what or whom it owed its life, and blissfully unaware
+that it was _tripha_.
+
+"Nee, nee," sniggered Lewis, as Flutter-Duck savagely kicked the cat
+out of her way. "Don't be alarmed, Rebbitzin won't attack it.
+Rebbitzin is a better judge of _triphas_ than you."
+
+It was another cat, but it was the same joke.
+
+Flutter-Duck began to clean the fish with intensified viciousness. She
+had bought them as a substitute for the goose, and they were a
+constant reminder of her complex illhap. Very soon she cut her finger,
+and scoured the walls vainly in search of cobweb ligature. Bitter was
+her plaint of the servant's mismanagement; when she herself had looked
+after the house there had been no lack of cobwebs in the corners. Nor
+was this the end of Flutter-Duck's misfortunes. When, in the course of
+the afternoon, she sent up to Mrs. Levy on the second floor to remind
+her that she would be wanting her embroidered petticoat for the
+evening, answer came back that it was the anniversary of Mrs. Levy's
+mother's death, and she could not permit even her petticoat to go to a
+wedding. Finally, the gloves that Flutter-Duck borrowed from the
+chandler's wife were split at the thumbs. And so the servant was kept
+running to and fro, spoiling the neighbours for the greater glory of
+Flutter-Duck. It was only at the eleventh hour that an embroidered
+petticoat was obtained.
+
+Altogether there was electricity in the air, and Emanuel was not
+present to divert it down the road of jocularity. The furriers stitched
+sullenly, with a presentiment of storm. But it held over all day, and
+there was hope the currents would pass harmlessly away.
+
+With the rising of Flutter-Duck from the work-table, however, the
+first rumblings began. Lewis did not attempt to restrain her from her
+society dissipation, but he fumed inwardly throughout her toilette.
+More than ever he realised, as he sat coughing and bending over the
+ermine he was tufting with black spots, the incompatibility of this
+union between ant and butterfly, and occasionally his thought would
+shoot out in dry sarcasm. But Flutter-Duck had passed beyond the plane
+in which Lewis existed as her husband. All day she had talked freely,
+if a whit condescendingly, to her fellow-furriers, lamenting the
+mischances of the day; but in proportion as she began to get clean and
+beautiful, as the muslins of the great mirror became a frame for a
+gorgeous picture of a lady, Flutter-Duck grew more and more aloof from
+workaday interests, felt herself borne into a higher world of radiance
+and elegance, into a rarefied atmosphere of gentility, that froze her
+to statue-like frigidity.
+
+She was not Flutter-Duck then.
+
+And when she was quite dressed for the wedding, and had put on the
+earrings with the coloured stones and the crowning glory of the
+chignon of false plaits, stuck over with little artificial white
+flowers, the female neighbours came crowding into the work-room
+boudoir to see how she looked, and she revolved silently for their
+inspection like a dressmaker's figure, at most acknowledging their
+compliments with monosyllables. She had invited them to come and
+admire her appearance, but by the time they came she had grown too
+proud to speak to them. Even the women of whose finery she wore
+fragments, and who had contributed to her splendour, seemed to her
+poor dingy creatures, whose contact would sully her embroidered
+petticoat. In grotesque contrast with her peacock-like stateliness,
+the big _tripha_ goose began to get lively, cackling and flapping
+about within its radius, as if the soul of Flutter-Duck had passed
+into its body.
+
+The moment of departure had come. The cab stood at the street-door,
+and a composite crowd stood round the cab. In the Ghetto a cab has
+special significance, and Flutter-Duck would have to pass to hers
+through an avenue of polyglot commentators. At the last moment,
+adjusting her fleecy wrap over her head like any _grande dame_ (from
+whom she differed only in the modesty of her high bodice and her full
+sleeves), Flutter-Duck discovered that there was a great rent in one
+part of the wrap and a great stain in another. She uttered an
+exclamation of dismay--this seemed to her the climax of the day's
+misfortunes.
+
+"What shall I do? What shall I do?" she cried, her dignity almost
+melting in tears.
+
+The by-standers made sympathetic but profitless noises.
+
+"Oh, double it another way," jerked Rachel from the work-table. "Come
+here, I'll do it for you."
+
+"Are you too lazy to come here?" replied Flutter-Duck irritably.
+Rachel rose and went towards her, and rearranged the wrap.
+
+"Oh no, that won't do," complained Flutter-Duck, attitudinising before
+the glass. "It shows as bad as ever. Oh, what shall I do?"
+
+"Do you know what I'll tell you?" said her husband meditatively:
+"Don't go!"
+
+Flutter-Duck threw him a fiery look.
+
+"Oh well," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders and thrusting forward
+her lip contemptuously, "it'll have to do."
+
+"No, it won't--lend me your pink one."
+
+"I'm not going to have my pink one dirtied, too," grumbled Rachel.
+
+"Do you hear what I say?" exclaimed Flutter-Duck, with increasing
+wrath. "Give me the pink wrap! When the mother says is said!" And she
+looked around the group of spectators, in search of sympathy with her
+trials and admiration for her maternal dignity.
+
+"I can never keep anything for myself," said Rachel sullenly. "You
+never take care of anything."
+
+"I took care of you," screamed Flutter-Duck, goaded beyond endurance
+by the thought that her neighbours were witnessing this filial
+disrespect. "And a fat lot of good it's done me."
+
+"Yes, much care you take of me. You only think of enjoying yourself.
+It's young girls who ought to go out, not old women."
+
+"You impudent face!" And with an irresistible impulse of savagery, a
+reversion to the days of _Médiâni_, Flutter-Duck swung round her arm,
+and struck Rachel violently on the cheek with her white-gloved hand.
+
+[Illustration: "'YOU IMPUDENT FACE!'"]
+
+The sound of the slap rang hollow and awful through the room.
+
+The workers looked up and paused, the neighbours held their breath;
+there was a dread silence, broken only by the hissings of the excited
+goose, and the half involuntary apologetic murmurings of
+Flutter-Duck's lips: "If I bin a mother, I bin a mother."
+
+For an instant Rachel's face was a white mask, on which five fingers
+stood out in fire; the next it was one burning mass of angry blood.
+She clenched her fist, as if about to strike her mother, then let the
+fingers relax; half from a relic of filial awe, half from respect for
+the finery. There was a peculiar light in her eyes. Without a word she
+turned slowly on her heel and walked into her little room, emerging,
+after an instant of general suspense, with the pink wrap in her
+hand. She gave it to her mother, without looking at her, and walked
+back to her work, and poor foolish Flutter-Duck, relieved, triumphant,
+and with an irreproachable head-wrap, passed majestically from the
+room, amid the buzz of the neighbours (who accompanied her downstairs
+with valedictory brushings of fur-fluff from her shoulders), through
+the avenue of polyglot commentators, into the waiting cab.
+
+All this time Flutter-Duck's husband had sat petrified, but now a
+great burst of coughing shook him. He did not know what to say or do,
+and prolonged the cough artificially to cover his embarrassment. Then
+he opened his mouth several times, but shut it indecisively. At last
+he said soothingly, with kindly clumsiness: "Nee, nee; you shouldn't
+irritate the mother, Rachel. You know what she is."
+
+Rachel's needle plodded on, and the uneasy silence resumed its sway.
+
+Presently Rachel rose, put down her piece of work finished, and
+without a word passed back to her bedroom, her beautiful figure erect
+and haughty. Lewis heard her key turn in the lock. The hours passed,
+and she did not return. Her father did not like to appear anxious
+before the "hands," but he had a discomforting vision of her lying on
+her bed, in a dumb agony of shame and rage. At last eight o'clock
+struck, and, backward as the work was, Lewis did not suggest overtime.
+He even dismissed the servant an hour before her time. He was in a
+fever of impatience, but delicacy had kept him from intruding on his
+daughter's grief before strangers. Now he hastened to her door, and
+knocked timidly, then loudly.
+
+"Nee, nee, Rachel," he cried, with sympathetic sternness, "Enough!"
+
+But a chill silence alone answered him.
+
+He burst open the rickety door, and saw a dark mass huddled up in the
+shadow on the bed. A nearer glance showed him it was only clothes. He
+opened the door that led on to Jacob's ladder, and called her name.
+Then by the light streaming in from the other apartment he hastily
+examined the room. It was obvious that she had put on her best
+clothes, and gone out.
+
+Half relieved, he returned to the sitting-room, leaving the door ajar,
+and recited his evening prayer. Then he began to prepare a little meal
+for himself, telling himself that she had gone for a walk, after her
+manner; perhaps was shaking off her depression at the Cambridge Music
+Hall. Supper over and grace said, he started doing the overwork, and
+then, when sheer weariness forced him to stop, he drew his comfortless
+wooden chair to the kitchen fire, and studied Rabbinical lore from a
+minutely printed folio.
+
+The Whitechapel Church clock, suddenly booming midnight, awoke him
+from these sacred subtleties with a start of alarm. Rachel had not
+returned.
+
+The fire burnt low. He shivered, and threw on some coal. Half an hour
+more he waited, listening for her footstep. Surely the music-hall must
+be closed by now. He crept down the stairs, and wandered vaguely into
+the cold, starless night, jostled by leering females, and returned
+forlorn and coughing. Then the thought flashed upon him that his girl
+had gone to her mother, had gone to fetch her from the wedding ball,
+and to make it up with her. Yes; that would be it. Hence the best
+clothes. It could be nothing else. He must not let any other thought
+get a hold on his mind. He would have run round to the festive scene,
+only he did not know precisely where it was, and it was too late to
+ask the neighbours.
+
+One o'clock!
+
+A mournful monotone, stern in its absoluteness, like the clang of a
+gate shutting out a lost soul.
+
+One more hour of aching suspense, scarcely dulled by the task of
+making hot coffee, and cutting bread and butter for his returning
+womankind; then Flutter-Duck came back. Alone!
+
+Came back in her cab, her fading features flushed with the joy of
+life, with the artificial flowers in her false chignon, and the pink
+wrap over her head.
+
+"Where is Rachel?" gasped poor Lewis, meeting her at the street-door.
+
+"Rachel! isn't she here? I left her with you," answered Flutter-Duck,
+half sobered.
+
+"Merciful God!" ejaculated her husband, and put his hand to his
+breast, pierced by a shooting pain.
+
+"I left her with you," repeated Flutter-Duck with white lips. "Why did
+you let her go out? Why didn't you look after her?"
+
+"Silence, you sinful mother!" cried Lewis. "You shamed her before
+strangers, and she has gone out--to drown herself--what do I know?"
+
+Flutter-Duck burst into hysterical sobbing.
+
+"Yes, take her part against me! You always make me out wrong."
+
+"Restrain yourself!" he whispered imperiously. "Do you wish to have
+the neighbours hear you again?"
+
+"I daresay she's only hiding somewhere, sulking, as she did when a
+child," said Flutter-Duck. "Have you looked under the bed?"
+
+Foolish as he knew her words were, they gave him a gleam of hope. He
+led the way upstairs without answering, and taking a candle, examined
+her bedroom again with ludicrous minuteness. This time the sight of
+her old clothes was comforting; if she had wanted to drown herself,
+she would not--he reasoned with perhaps too masculine a logic--have
+taken her best clothes to spoil. With a sudden thought he displaced
+the hearthstone. He had early discovered where she kept her savings,
+though he had neither tampered with them nor betrayed his knowledge.
+The tin box was broken open, empty! In the drawers there was not a
+single article of her jewellery. Rachel had evidently left home! She
+had gone by way of Jacob's ladder--secretly.
+
+Prostrated by the discovery, the parents sat down in helpless silence.
+Then Flutter-Duck began to wring her white-gloved hands, and to babble
+incoherent suggestions and reproaches, and protestations that she was
+not to blame. The hot coffee cooled untasted, the pink wrap lay
+crumpled on the floor.
+
+Lewis revolved the situation rapidly. What could be done? Evidently
+nothing--for that night at least. Even the police could do nothing
+till the morning, and to call them in at all would be to publish the
+scandal to the whole world. Rachel had gone to some lodging--there
+could be no doubt about that. And yet he could not go to bed, his
+heart still expected her, though his brain had given up hope. He
+walked about restlessly, racked by fits of coughing, then he dropped
+back into his seat before the decaying fire. And Flutter-Duck,
+frightened into silence at last, sat on the sofa, dazed, in her
+trappings and gewgaws, with the white flowers glistening in her false
+hair, and her pallid cheeks stained with tears.
+
+And so they waited in the uncouth room in the solemn watches of the
+night, pricking up their ears at a rare footstep in the street, and
+hastening to peep out of the window; waiting for the knock that came
+not, and the dawn that was distant. The silence lay upon them like a
+pall.
+
+Suddenly, in the weird stillness, they heard a fluttering and a
+skurrying, and, looking up, they saw a great white thing floating
+through the room. Flutter-Duck uttered a terrible cry. "Hear, O
+Israel!" she shrieked.
+
+"Nee, nee," said Lewis reassuringly, though scarcely less startled.
+"It is only the _tripha_ goose got loose."
+
+"Nay, nay, it is the Devil!" hoarsely whispered Flutter-Duck, who had
+covered her face with her hands, and was shaking as with palsy.
+
+Her terror communicated itself to her husband. "Hush, hush! Talk not
+so," he said, shivering with indefinable awe.
+
+"Say psalms, say psalms!" panted Flutter-Duck. "Drive him out."
+
+Lewis opened the window, but the unclean bird showed no desire to
+flit. It was evidently the Not-Good-One himself.
+
+"Hear, O Israel!" wailed Flutter-Duck. "Since he came in this morning
+everything has been upside down."
+
+The goose chuckled.
+
+Lewis was seized with a fell terror that gave him a mad courage.
+Murmuring a holy phrase, he grabbed at the goose, which eluded him,
+and fluttered flappingly hither and thither. Lewis gave chase, his
+lips praying mechanically. At last he caught it by a wing, haled it,
+hissing and struggling and uttering rasping cries, to the window,
+flung it without, and closed the sash with a bang. Then he fell
+impotent against the work-table, and spat out a mouthful of blood.
+
+"God be praised!" said Flutter-Duck, slowly uncovering her eyes. "Now
+Rachel will come back."
+
+And with renewed hope they waited on, and the deathly silence again
+possessed the room.
+
+All at once they heard a light step under the window; the father threw
+it open and saw a female form outlined in the darkness. There was a
+rat-tat-tat at the door.
+
+"Ah, there she is!" hysterically ejaculated Flutter-Duck, starting up.
+
+"The Holy One be blessed!" cried Lewis, rushing down the stairs.
+
+A strange figure, the head covered by a green tartan shawl, greeted
+him. A cold ague passed over his limbs.
+
+"Thank God, it's all right," said Mrs. Lefkovitch. "I see from your
+light you are still working; but isn't it time my Emanuel left off?"
+
+"Your Emanuel?" gasped Lewis, with a terrible suspicion. "He went home
+early in the day; he was taken ill."
+
+Flutter-Duck, who had crept at his heels bearing a candle, cried out,
+"God in Israel! She has flown away with Emanuel."
+
+"Hush, you piece of folly!" whispered Lewis furiously.
+
+"Yes, it was already arranged, and you blamed me!" gasped
+Flutter-Duck, with a last instinct of self-defence ere consciousness
+left her, and she fell forward.
+
+"Silence," Lewis began, but there was an awful desolation at his heart
+and the salt of blood was in his mouth as he caught the falling form.
+The candlestick rolled to the ground, and the group was left in the
+heavy shadows of the staircase and the cold blast from the open door.
+
+"God have mercy on me and the poor children! I knew all along it would
+come to that!" wailed Emanuel's wife.
+
+"And I advanced him his week's money on Monday," Lewis remembered in
+the agony of the moment.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+POOR FLUTTER-DUCK.
+
+    "Her cap blew off, her gown blew up,
+    And a whirlwind cleared the larder."
+
+        --TENNYSON: _The Goose_.
+
+It was New Year's Eve.
+
+In the Ghetto, where "the evening and the morning are one day," New
+Year's Eve is at its height at noon. The muddy market-places roar, and
+the joyous medley of squeezing humanity moves slowly through the crush
+of mongers, pickpockets, and beggars. It is one of those festival
+occasions on which even those who have migrated from the Ghetto
+gravitate back to purchase those dainties whereof the heathen have not
+the secret, and to look again upon the old familiar scene. There is a
+stir of goodwill and gaiety, a reconciliation of old feuds in view of
+the solemn season of repentance, and a washing-down of enmities in
+rum.
+
+At the point where the two main market-streets met, a grey-haired
+elderly woman stood and begged.
+
+Poor Flutter-Duck!
+
+Her husband dead, after a protracted illness that frittered away his
+savings; her daughter lost; her home a mattress in the corner of a
+strange family's garret; her faded prettiness turned to ugliness: her
+figure thin and wasted; her yellow-wrinkled face framed in a frowsy
+shawl; her clothes tattered and flimsy; Flutter-Duck stood and
+_schnorred_.
+
+But Flutter-Duck did not do well. Her feather-head was not equal to
+the demands of her profession. She had selected what was ostensibly
+the coign of most vantage, forgetting that though everybody in the
+market must pass her station, they would already have been mulcted in
+the one street or the other.
+
+[Illustration: MARKET-DAY IN THE GHETTO.]
+
+But she held out her hand pertinaciously, appealing to every passer-by
+of importance, and throwing audible curses after those that ignored
+her. The cold of the bleak autumn day and the apathy of the public
+chilled her to the bone; the tears came into her eyes as she thought
+of all her misery and of the happy time--only a couple of years
+ago--when New Year meant new dresses. Only a grey fringe--the last
+vanity of pauperdom--remained of all her fashionableness. No more the
+plaited chignon, the silk gown, the triple necklace,--the
+dazzling exterior that made her too proud to speak to admiring
+neighbours,--only hunger and cold and mockery and loneliness. No
+plumes could she borrow, now that she really needed them to cover her
+nakedness. She who had reigned over a work-room, who had owned a
+husband and a marriageable daughter, who had commanded a maid-servant,
+who had driven in shilling cabs!
+
+Oh, if she could only find her daughter--that lost creature by whose
+wedding-canopy she should have stood, radiant, the envy of Montague
+Street! But this was not a thought of to-day. It was at the bottom of
+all her thoughts always, ever since that fatal night. During the first
+year she was always on the lookout, peering into every woman's face,
+running after every young couple that looked like Emanuel and Rachel.
+But repeated disappointment dulled her. She had no energy for anything
+except begging. Yet the hope of finding Rachel was the gleam of
+idealism that kept her soul alive.
+
+The hours went by, but the streams of motley pedestrians and the babel
+of vociferous vendors and chattering buyers did not slacken. Females
+were in the great majority, housewives from far and near foraging for
+Festival supplies. In vain Flutter-Duck wished them "A Good Sealing."
+It seemed as if her own Festival would be black and bitter as the
+Feast of Ab.
+
+But she continued to hold out her bloodless hand. Towards three
+o'clock a fine English lady, in a bonnet, passed by, carrying a
+leather bag.
+
+"Grant me a halfpenny, lady, dear! May you be written down for a good
+year!"
+
+The beautiful lady paused, startled. Then Flutter-Duck's heart gave a
+great leap of joy. The impossible had happened at last. Behind the
+veil shone the face of Rachel--a face of astonishment and horror.
+
+"Rachel!" she shrieked, tottering.
+
+"Mother!" cried Rachel, catching her by the arm. "What are you doing
+here? What has happened?"
+
+"Do not touch me, sinful girl!" answered Flutter-Duck, shaking her off
+with a tragic passion that gave dignity to the grotesque figure. Now
+that Rachel was there in the flesh, the remembrance of her shame
+surged up, drowning everything. "You have disgraced the mother who
+bore you and the father who gave you life."
+
+The fine English lady--her whole soul full of sudden remorse at the
+sight of her mother's incredible poverty, shrank before the blazing
+eyes. The passers-by imagined Rachel had refused the beggar-woman
+alms.
+
+"What have I done?" she faltered.
+
+"Where is Emanuel?"
+
+"Emanuel!" repeated Rachel, puzzled.
+
+"Emanuel Lefkovitch that you ran away with."
+
+"Mother, are you mad? I have never seen him. I am married."
+
+"Married!" gasped Flutter-Duck ecstatically. Then a new dread rose to
+her mind. "To a Christian?"
+
+"Me marry a Christian! The idea!"
+
+Flutter-Duck fell a-sobbing on the fine lady's fur jacket. "And you
+never ran away with Lefkovitch?"
+
+"Me take another woman's leavings? Well, upon my word!"
+
+"Oh," sobbed Flutter-Duck. "Oh, if your father could only have lived
+to know the truth!"
+
+Rachel's remorse became heartrending. "Is father dead?" she murmured
+with white lips. After awhile she drew her mother out of the babel,
+and giving her the bag to carry to save appearances, she walked slowly
+towards Liverpool Street, and took train with her for her pretty
+little cottage near Epping Forest.
+
+Rachel's story was as simple as her mother's. After the showing up of
+Emanuel's duplicity, home had no longer the least attraction for her.
+Her nascent love for the migratory husband changed to a loathing that
+embraced the whole Ghetto in which such things were possible. Weary of
+Flutter-Duck's follies, indifferent to her father, she had long
+meditated joining her West-end girl-friend in the fur establishment in
+Regent Street, but the blow precipitated matters. She felt she could
+not remain a night more under her mother's roof, and her father's
+clumsy comment was but salt on her wound. Her heart was hard against
+both; month after month passed before her passionate, sullen nature
+would let her dwell on the thought of their trouble, and even then she
+felt that the motive of her flight was so plain that they would feel
+only remorse, not anxiety. They knew she could always earn her living,
+just as she knew they could always earn theirs. Living "in," and going
+out but rarely, and then in the fashionable districts, she never met
+any drift from the Ghetto, and the busy life of the populous
+establishment soon effaced the old, which faded to a forgotten dream.
+One day the chief provincial traveller of the house saw her, fell in
+love, married her, and took her about the country for six months. He
+was coming back to her that very evening for the New Year. She had
+gone back to the Ghetto that day to buy New Year honey, and, softened
+by time and happiness, rather hoped to stumble across her mother in
+the market-place, and so save the submission of a call. She never
+dreamed of death and poverty. She would not blame herself for her
+father's death--he had always been consumptive--but since death was
+come at last, it was lucky she could offer her mother a home. Her
+husband would be delighted to find a companion for his wife during his
+country rounds.
+
+"So you see, mother, everything is for the best."
+
+Flutter-Duck listened in a delicious daze.
+
+What! Was everything then to end happily after all? Was she--the
+shabby old starveling--to be restored to comfort and fine clothes? Her
+brain seemed bursting with the thought of so much happiness; as the
+train flew along past green grass and autumn-tinted foliage, she
+strove to articulate a prayer of gratitude to Heaven, but she only
+mumbled "_Médiâni_," and lapsed into silence. And then, suddenly
+remembering she had started a prayer and must finish it, she murmured
+again "_Médiâni_."
+
+When they came to the grand house with the front garden, and were
+admitted by a surprised maid-servant, infinitely nattier than any
+Flutter-Duck had ever ruled over, the poor creature was palsied with
+excess of bliss. The fire was blazing merrily in the luxurious
+parlour: could this haven of peace and pomp--these arm-chairs, those
+vases, that side-board--be really for her? Was she to spend her New
+Year's night surrounded by love and luxury, instead of huddling in the
+corner of a cold garret?
+
+And as soon as Rachel had got her mother installed in a wonderful
+easy-chair, she hastened with all the eagerness of maternal pride,
+with all the enthusiasm of remorse, to throw open the folding-doors
+that led to her bedroom, so as to give Flutter-Duck the crowning
+surprise--the secret titbit she had reserved for the grand climax.
+
+"There's a fine boy!" she cried.
+
+And as Flutter-Duck caught sight of the little red face peeping out
+from the snowy draperies of the cradle, a rapture too great to bear
+seemed almost to snap something within her foolish, overwrought brain.
+
+"I have already a grandchild!" she shrieked, with a great sob of
+ecstasy; and, running to the cradle-side, she fell on her knees, and
+covered the little red face with frantic kisses, repeating "Lewis
+love, Lewis love, Lewis love," till the babe screamed, and Rachel had
+to tear the babbling creature away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You may see her almost any day walking in the Ghetto market-place--a
+meagre, old figure, with a sharp-featured face and a plaited chignon.
+She dresses richly in silk, and her golden earrings are set with
+coloured stones, and her bonnet is of the latest fashion. She lives
+near Epping Forest, and almost always goes home to tea. Sometimes she
+stands still at the point where the two market streets meet, extending
+vacantly a gloved hand, but for the most part she wanders about the
+by-streets and alleys of Whitechapel with an anxious countenance,
+peering at every woman she meets, and following every young couple.
+"If I could only find her!" she thinks yearningly.
+
+Nobody knows whom she is looking for, but everybody knows she is only
+"Flutter-Duck."
+
+
+
+
+MACMILLAN'S DOLLAR SERIES OF WORKS BY POPULAR AUTHORS.
+
+_Crown 8vo. Cloth extra. $1.00 each._
+
+
+BY F. MARION CRAWFORD.
+
+With the solitary exception of Mrs. Oliphant, we have no living
+novelist more distinguished for variety of theme and range of
+imaginative outlook than Mr. Marion Crawford.--_Spectator._
+
+  THE CHILDREN OF THE KING.
+  DON ORSINO.
+  MR. ISAACS: A Tale of Modern India.
+  DR. CLAUDIUS: A True Story.
+  ZOROASTER.
+  A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH.
+  SARACINESCA. A New Novel.
+  MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX.
+  WITH THE IMMORTALS.
+  GREIFENSTEIN.
+  SANT' ILARIO.
+  A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.
+  KHALED: A Tale of Arabia.
+  THE WITCH OF PRAGUE. With numerous Illustrations by W. J. HENNESSY.
+  THE THREE FATES.
+
+
+BY CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+It would be difficult to imagine a better edition of Dickens at the
+price than that which is now appearing in Macmillan's Series of Dollar
+Novels.--_Boston Beacon._
+
+  THE PICKWICK PAPERS. 50 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  OLIVER TWIST. 27 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 44 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 41 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. 97 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  BARNABY RUDGE. 76 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  SKETCHES BY BOZ. 44 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  DOMBEY AND SON. 40 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 65 Illustrations. (_December._)
+  DAVID COPPERFIELD. 41 Illustrations.(_January._)
+  AMERICAN NOTES, AND PICTURES FROM ITALY. 4 Illustrations. (_Feb._)
+
+
+BY CHARLES KINGSLEY.
+
+  ALTON LOCKE.
+  HEREWARD.
+  HEROES.
+  WESTWARD HO!
+  HYPATIA.
+  TWO YEARS AGO.
+  WATER BABIES. Illustrated.
+  YEAST.
+
+
+BY HENRY JAMES.
+
+He has the power of seeing with the artistic perception of the few,
+and of writing about what he has seen, so that the many can understand
+and feel with him.--_Saturday Review._
+
+  THE LESSON OF THE MASTER AND OTHER STORIES.
+  THE REVERBERATOR.
+  THE ASPEN PAPERS AND OTHER STORIES.
+  A LONDON LIFE.
+
+
+BY ANNIE KEARY.
+
+In our opinion there have not been many novels published better worth
+reading. The literary workmanship is excellent, and all the windings
+of the stories are worked with patient fulness and a skill not often
+found.--_Spectator._
+
+  JANET'S HOME.
+  CLEMENCY FRANKLYN.
+  A DOUBTING HEART.
+  THE HEROES OF ASGARD.
+  A YORK AND LANCASTER ROSE.
+
+
+BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.
+
+Few modern novelists can tell a story of English country life better
+than Mr. D. Christie Murray.--_Spectator._
+
+  AUNT RACHEL.
+  THE WEAKER VESSEL.
+  SCHWARZ.
+
+
+BY MRS. OLIPHANT.
+
+Has the charm of style, the literary quality and flavour that never
+fails to please.--_Saturday Review._
+
+At her best she is, with one or two exceptions, the best of living
+English novelists.--_Academy._
+
+  A SON OF THE SOIL. New Edition.
+  THE CURATE IN CHARGE. New Edition.
+  YOUNG MUSGRAVE. New Edition.
+  HE THAT WILL NOT WHEN HE MAY. New and Cheaper Edition.
+  SIR TOM. New Edition.
+  HESTER. A Story of Contemporary Life.
+  THE WIZARD'S SON. New Edition.
+  A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN AND HIS FAMILY. New Edition.
+  NEIGHBOURS ON THE GREEN. New Edition.
+  AGNES HOPETOUN'S SCHOOLS AND HOLIDAYS. With Illustrations.
+
+
+BY J. H. SHORTHOUSE.
+
+Powerful, striking, and fascinating romances.--_Anti-Jacobin._
+
+  BLANCHE, LADY FALAISE.
+  JOHN INGLESANT.
+  SIR PERCIVAL.
+  THE COUNTESS EVE.
+  A TEACHER OF THE VIOLIN.
+  THE LITTLE SCHOOLMASTER MARK.
+
+
+BY MRS. CRAIK.
+
+(The Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman.")
+
+  LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.
+  ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE.
+  ALICE LEARMONT.
+  OUR YEAR.
+
+
+BY MRS. HUMPHRY WARD.
+
+Mrs. Ward, with her "Robert Elsmere" and "David Grieve," has
+established with extraordinary rapidity an enduring reputation as one
+who has expressed what is deepest and most real in the thought of the
+time.... They are dramas of the time vitalized by the hopes, fears,
+doubts, and despairing struggles after higher ideals which are swaying
+the minds of men and women of this generation.--_New York Tribune._
+
+  ROBERT ELSMERE.
+  THE HISTORY OF DAVID GRIEVE.
+  MILLY AND OLLY.
+
+
+BY RUDYARD KIPLING.
+
+Every one knows that it is not easy to write good short stories. Mr.
+Kipling has changed all that. Here are forty of them, averaging less
+than eight pages apiece; there is not a dull one in the lot. Some are
+tragedy, some broad comedy, some tolerably sharp satire. The time has
+passed to ignore or undervalue Mr. Kipling. He has won his spurs and
+taken his prominent place in the arena. This, as the legitimate
+edition, should be preferred to the pirated ones by all such as care
+for honesty in letters.--_Churchman_, New York.
+
+  PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS.
+  LIFE'S HANDICAP.
+
+
+BY AMY LEVY.
+
+  REUBEN SACHS.
+
+
+BY M. McLENNAN.
+
+  MUCKLE JOCK, AND OTHER STORIES.
+
+
+BY THOMAS HUGHES.
+
+  TOM BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS. Illustrated.
+  RUGBY, TENNESSEE.
+
+
+BY ROLF BOLDREWOOD.
+
+Mr. Boldrewood can tell what he knows with great point and vigour, and
+there is no better reading than the adventurous parts of his
+books.--_Saturday Review._
+
+  ROBBERY UNDER ARMS.
+  NEVERMORE.
+  SYDNEY-SIDE SAXON.
+
+
+BY SIR HENRY CUNNINGHAM, K.C.I.E.
+
+Interesting as specimens of romance, the style of writing is so
+excellent--scholarly and at the same time easy and natural--that the
+volumes are worth reading on that account alone. But there is also
+masterly description of persons, places, and things; skilful analysis
+of character; a constant play of wit and humour; and a happy gift of
+instantaneous portraiture.--_St. James's Gazette._
+
+THE COERULEANS: A VACATION IDYLL.
+
+
+BY GEORGE GISSING.
+
+We earnestly commend the book for its high literary merit, its deep
+bright interest, and for the important and healthful lessons that it
+teaches.--_Boston Home Journal._
+
+  DENZIL QUARRIER.
+  THE ODD WOMEN.
+
+
+BY W. CLARK RUSSELL.
+
+The descriptions are wonderfully realistic ... and the breath of the
+ocean is over and through every page. The plot is very novel indeed,
+and is developed with skill and tact. Altogether one of the cleverest
+and most entertaining of Mr. Russell's many works.--_Boston Times._
+
+  A STRANGE ELOPEMENT.
+
+
+BY THE HON. EMILY LAWLESS.
+
+It is a charming story, full of natural life, fresh in style and
+thought, pure in tone, and refined in feeling.--_Nineteenth Century._
+
+A strong and original story. It is marked by originality, freshness,
+insight, a rare graphic power, and as rare a psychological perception.
+It is in fact a better story than "Hurrish," and that is saying a good
+deal.--_New York Tribune._
+
+  GRANIA: THE STORY OF AN ISLAND.
+
+
+BY A NEW AUTHOR.
+
+We should not be surprised if this should prove to be the most popular
+book of the present season; it cannot fail to be one of the most
+remarkable.--_Literary World._
+
+TIM: A STORY OF SCHOOL LIFE.
+
+
+BY LANOE FALCONER.
+
+(Author of "Mademoiselle Ixe.")
+
+It is written with cleverness and brightness, and there is so much
+human nature in it that the attention of the reader is held to the
+end.... The book shows far greater powers than were evident in
+"Mademoiselle Ixe," and if the writer who is hidden behind the _nom de
+guerre_ Lanoe Falconer goes on, she is likely to make for herself no
+inconsiderable name in fiction.--_Boston Courier._
+
+  CECILIA DE NOËL.
+
+
+BY THE REV. PROF. ALFRED J. CHURCH.
+
+Rev. Alfred J. Church, M.A., has long been doing valiant service in
+literature in presenting his stories of the early centuries, so clear
+is his style and so remarkable his gift of enfolding historical events
+and personages with the fabric of a romance, entertaining and
+oftentimes fascinating.... One has the feeling that he is reading an
+accurate description of real scenes, that the characters are
+living--so masterly is Professor Church's ability to reclothe history
+and make it as interesting as a romance.--_Boston Times._
+
+  STORIES FROM THE GREEK COMEDIANS.
+    ARISTOPHANES. PHILEMON.
+    DIPHILUS. MENANDER. APOLLODORUS.
+     _With Sixteen Illustrations after the Antique._
+    THE STORY OF THE ILIAD.
+     With Coloured Illustrations.
+    THE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY.
+     With Coloured Illustrations.
+  THE BURNING OF ROME.
+
+
+BY MRS. F. A. STEEL.
+
+The story is a delightful one, with a good plot, an abundance of
+action and incident, well and naturally drawn characters, excellent in
+sentiment, and with a good ending. Its interest begins with the
+opening paragraph, and is well sustained to the end. Mrs. Steel
+touches all her stories with the hand of a master, and she is yet to
+write one that is any way dull or uninteresting.--_The Christian at
+Work._
+
+  MISS STUART'S LEGACY.
+
+
+BY PAUL CUSHING.
+
+... A first-class detective story. Not a detective story of the
+ordinary blood-and-thunder kind, but a really good story, that is told
+in a vigorous and attractive way.... It is full of incident and
+especially good dialogue. The people in it really talk. The story is
+well worth reading.--_Commercial Gazette._
+
+  THE GREAT CHIN EPISODE.
+
+
+BY MARY A. DICKENS.
+
+Felicitous in style and simple enough in plot, it is powerfully vivid
+and dramatic, and well sustains the interest throughout.... There is a
+vein of grave pleasantry in the earlier portion of the work, which has
+to be abandoned as the tragic portion of it develops; but it is
+sufficient to show that the writer possesses the charm of pleasant
+recital when she wishes to exert it, as becomes her father's
+daughter.--_The Catholic World._
+
+A MERE CYPHER.
+
+
+BY MARY WEST.
+
+The novel is admirably written. It has not only distinction of style,
+but intellectual quality of an exceptionable order; and while the
+treatment is never didactic, questions of ethical import come
+naturally into evidence, and are dealt with in a decisive way.... A
+remarkably well-executed piece of fiction.--_Utica News._
+
+A BORN PLAYER.
+
+
+BY THE MARCHESA THEODOLI.
+
+A thoroughly pleasing and unpretentious story of modern Rome. The
+pictures of home life in the princely Astalli family are most curious
+and interesting; while the reader's sympathy with the charming and
+delicate romance of the book, ending happily at last, in the face of
+apparently insurmountable obstacles, will be readily enlisted from its
+inception.--_The Art Amateur._
+
+  UNDER PRESSURE.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The King of Schnorrers, by Israel Zangwill
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The King of Schnorrers, 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: The King of Schnorrers
+       Grotesques and Fantasies
+
+Author: Israel Zangwill
+
+Release Date: December 26, 2011 [EBook #38413]
+[Last updated: January 23, 2012]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING OF SCHNORRERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="400" height="592" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption"><i>The King of Schnorrers</i><br />
+<i>I. Zangwill</i></p>
+
+<p class="spacer">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1 class="booktitle"><i>The King of Schnorrers</i></h1>
+
+<p class="h3"><i>GROTESQUES AND FANTASIES</i></p>
+
+<p class="h4">BY</p>
+
+<p class="h3">I. ZANGWILL</p>
+
+<p class="h6">
+<span class="smcap">Author of</span> "<span class="smcap">Children of the Ghetto</span>," "<span class="smcap">The Old Maids' Club</span>,"
+"<span class="smcap">Merely Mary Ann</span>," <span class="smcap">etc.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="spacer">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="h5">New York<br />
+THE MACMILLAN COMPANY<br />
+LONDON: MACMILLAN &amp; CO., <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span><br />
+1909</p>
+
+<p class="h6"><i>All rights reserved</i></p>
+
+<p class="spacer">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="h5"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1893</span>,<br />
+<span class="smcap">By</span> MACMILLAN AND CO.</p>
+
+<hr class="thin" />
+
+<p class="h5">Set up and electrotyped January, 1894. Reprinted April,
+1894; September, 1895; January, 1897; October, 1898; August,
+1899; June, 1909.</p>
+
+<p class="spacer">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="h5">Norwood Press<br />
+J. S. Cushing &amp; Co.&mdash;Berwick &amp; Smith<br />
+Norwood Mass. U.S.A.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[v]</span></p>
+
+<h2><i>Foreword to "The King of Schnorrers."</i></h2>
+
+<p><i>These episodes make no claim to veracity, while the personages are
+not even sun-myths. I have merely amused myself and attempted to amuse
+idlers by incarnating the floating tradition of the Jewish</i> <span class="smcap">Schnorrer</span>,
+<i>who is as unique among beggars as Israel among nations. The close of
+the eighteenth century was chosen for a background, because, while the
+most picturesque period of Anglo-Jewish history, it has never before
+been exploited in fiction, whether by novelists or historians. To my
+friend, Mr. Asher I. Myers, I am indebted for access to his unique
+collection of Jewish prints and caricatures of the period, and I have
+not been backward in</i> <span class="smcap">schnorrinG</span> <i>suggestions from him and other
+private humourists. My indebtedness to my artists is more obvious,
+from my old friend George Hutchinson to my newer friend Phil May, who
+has been good enough to allow me to reproduce from his
+<span class="pagenum">[vi]</span> Annuals the
+brilliant sketches illustrating two of the shorter stories. Of these
+shorter stories it only remains to be said there are both tragic and
+comic, and I will not usurp the critic's prerogative by determining
+which is which.</i></p>
+
+<p class="author"><i>I. Z.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>That all men are beggars, 'tis very plain to see,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Though some they are of lowly, and some of high degree:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Your ministers of State will say they never will allow</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>That kings from subjects beg; but that you know is all bow-wow.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4"><i>Bow-wow-wow! Fol lol, etc.</i><br /></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8"><span class="smcap">Old Play.</span><br /></span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[ix]</span></p>
+
+<h2><i>Contents.</i></h2>
+
+<p><span class="right">PAGE</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#The_King_of_Schnorrers"><span class="smcap">The King of Schnorrers</span></a><span class="right">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;1</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">George Hutchinson</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#The_Semi-Sentimental_Dragon"><span class="smcap">The Semi-Sentimental Dragon</span></a><span class="right">157</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">Phil May</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#An_Honest_Log-Roller"><span class="smcap">An Honest Log-Roller</span></a><span class="right">171</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">F. H. Townsend</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#A_Tragi-Comedy_of_Creeds"><span class="smcap">A Tragi-Comedy of Creeds</span></a><span class="right">176</span></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#The_Memory_Clearing_House"><span class="smcap">The Memory Clearing House</span></a><span class="right">183</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">A. J. Finberg</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#Mated_by_a_Waiter"><span class="smcap">Mated by a Waiter</span></a><span class="right">205</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">Mark Zangwill</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#The_Principal_Boy"><span class="smcap">The Principal Boy</span></a><span class="right">242</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">F. H. Townsend</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Mark Zangwill</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#An_Odd_Life"><span class="smcap">An Odd Life</span></a><span class="right">259</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">F. H. Townsend</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#Cheating_the_Gallows"><span class="smcap">Cheating the Gallows</span></a><span class="right">273</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">George Hutchinson</span>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[x]</span></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#Santa_Claus"><span class="smcap">Santa Claus</span></a><span class="right">297</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">Mark Zangwill</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#A_Rose_of_the_Ghetto"><span class="smcap">A Rose of the Ghetto</span></a><span class="right">302</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">A. J. Finberg</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#A_Double-Barrelled_Ghost"><span class="smcap">A Double-Barrelled Ghost</span></a><span class="right">320</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">Phil May</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#Vagaries_of_a_Viscount"><span class="smcap">Vagaries of a Viscount</span></a><span class="right">334</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">F. H. Townsend</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#The_Queens_Triplets_a_Nursery_Tale_for_the_old"><span class="smcap">The Queen's Triplets </span></a><span class="right">343</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">Irving Montagu</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#A_Successful_Operation"><span class="smcap">A Successful Operation</span></a><span class="right">364</span><br /></p>
+
+<p class="hang"><a href="#Flutter-Duck"><span class="smcap">Flutter-Duck: A Ghetto Grotesque</span></a><span class="right">369</span><br />
+    <i>Illustrated by</i> <span class="smcap">Mark Zangwill</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[1]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="The_King_of_Schnorrers"><span class="smcap">The King of Schnorrers.</span></h2>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">SHOWING HOW THE WICKED PHILANTHROPIST WAS TURNED INTO A FISH-PORTER.</p>
+
+<p>In the days when Lord George Gordon became a Jew, and was suspected of
+insanity; when, out of respect for the prophecies, England denied her
+Jews every civic right except that of paying taxes; when the
+<i>Gentleman's Magazine</i> had ill words for the infidel alien; when
+Jewish marriages were invalid and bequests for Hebrew colleges void;
+when a prophet prophesying Primrose Day would have been set in the
+stocks, though Pitt inclined his private ear to Benjamin Goldsmid's
+views on the foreign loans&mdash;in those days, when Tevele Schiff was
+Rabbi in Israel, and Dr. de Falk, the Master of the Tetragrammaton,
+saint and Cabbalistic conjuror, flourished in Wellclose Square, and
+the composer of "The Death of Nelson" was a choir-boy in the Great
+Synagogue; Joseph Grobstock, pillar of the same, emerged one afternoon
+into the spring sunshine at the fag-end of the departing stream of
+worshippers. In his hand was a large canvas bag, and in his eye a
+twinkle.</p>
+
+<p>There had been a special service of prayer and thanksgiving for the
+happy restoration of his Majesty's health, and the cantor had
+interceded tunefully with Providence on behalf of Royal George and
+"our most amiable Queen,<span class="pagenum">[2]</span> Charlotte." The congregation was large and
+fashionable&mdash;far more so than when only a heavenly sovereign was
+concerned&mdash;and so the courtyard was thronged with a string of
+<i>Schnorrers</i> (beggars), awaiting the exit of the audience, much as the
+vestibule of the opera-house is lined by footmen.</p>
+
+<p>They were a motley crew, with tangled beards and long hair that fell
+in curls, if not the curls of the period; but the gaberdines of the
+German Ghettoes had been in most cases exchanged for the knee-breeches
+and many-buttoned jacket of the Londoner. When the clothes one has
+brought from the Continent wear out, one must needs adopt the attire
+of one's superiors, or be reduced to buying. Many bore staves, and had
+their loins girded up with coloured handkerchiefs, as though ready at
+any moment to return from the Captivity. Their woebegone air was
+achieved almost entirely by not washing&mdash;it owed little to nature, to
+adventitious aids in the shape of deformities. The merest sprinkling
+boasted of physical afflictions, and none exposed sores like the
+lazars of Italy or contortions like the cripples of Constantinople.
+Such crude methods are eschewed in the fine art of <i>schnorring</i>. A
+green shade might denote weakness of sight, but the stone-blind man
+bore no braggart placard&mdash;his infirmity was an old established concern
+well known to the public, and conferring upon the proprietor a
+definite status in the community. He was no anonymous atom, such as
+drifts blindly through Christendom, vagrant and apologetic. Rarest of
+all sights in this pageantry of Jewish pauperdom was the hollow
+trouser-leg or the empty sleeve, or the wooden limb fulfilling either
+and pushing out a proclamatory peg.</p>
+
+<p>When the pack of <i>Schnorrers</i> caught sight of Joseph Grobstock, they
+fell upon him full-cry, blessing him. He,<span class="pagenum">[3]</span> nothing surprised, brushed
+pompously through the benedictions, though the twinkle in his eye
+became a roguish gleam. Outside the iron gates, where the throng was
+thickest, and where some elegant chariots that had brought worshippers
+from distant Hackney were preparing to start, he came to a standstill,
+surrounded by clamouring <i>Schnorrers</i>, and dipped his hand slowly and
+ceremoniously into the bag. There was a moment of breathless
+expectation among the beggars, and Joseph Grobstock had a moment of
+exquisite consciousness of importance, as he stood there swelling in
+the sunshine. There was no middle class to speak of in the
+eighteenth-century Jewry; the world was divided into rich and poor,
+and the rich were very, very rich, and the poor very, very poor, so
+that everyone knew his station. Joseph Grobstock was satisfied with
+that in which it had pleased God to place<span class="pagenum">[4]</span> him. He was a jovial,
+heavy-jowled creature, whose clean-shaven chin was doubling, and he
+was habited like a person of the first respectability in a beautiful
+blue body-coat with a row of big yellow buttons. The frilled shirt
+front, high collar of the very newest fashion, and copious white
+neckerchief showed off the massive fleshiness of the red throat. His
+hat was of the Quaker pattern, and his head did not fail of the
+periwig and the pigtail, the latter being heretical in name only.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i001.jpg" width="500" height="301" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;DIPPED HIS HAND INTO THE BAG.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>What Joseph Grobstock drew from the bag was a small white-paper
+packet, and his sense of humour led him to place it in the hand
+furthest from his nose; for it was a broad humour, not a subtle. It
+enabled him to extract pleasure from seeing a fellow-mortal's hat
+rollick in the wind, but did little to alleviate the chase for his
+own. His jokes clapped you on the back, they did not tickle
+delicately.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the man who now became the complacent cynosure of all eyes,
+even of those that had no appeal in them, as soon as the principle of
+his eleemosynary operations had broken on the crowd. The first
+<i>Schnorrer</i>, feverishly tearing open his package, had found a florin,
+and, as by electricity, all except the blind beggar were aware that
+Joseph Grobstock was distributing florins. The distributor partook of
+the general consciousness, and his lips twitched. Silently he dipped
+again into the bag, and, selecting the hand nearest, put a second
+white package into it. A wave of joy brightened the grimy face, to
+change instantly to one of horror.</p>
+
+<p>"You have made a mistake&mdash;you have given me a penny!" cried the
+beggar.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep it for your honesty," replied Joseph Grobstock imperturbably,
+and affected not to enjoy the laughter of the rest. The third
+mendicant ceased laughing when he discovered<span class="pagenum">[5]</span> that fold on fold of
+paper sheltered a tiny sixpence. It was now obvious that the great man
+was distributing prize-packets, and the excitement of the piebald
+crowd grew momently. Grobstock went on dipping, lynx-eyed against
+second applications. One of the few pieces of gold in the lucky-bag
+fell to the solitary lame man, who danced in his joy on his sound leg,
+while the poor blind man pocketed his halfpenny, unconscious of
+ill-fortune, and merely wondering why the coin came swathed in paper.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="274" height="374" alt="" class="splitr" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;DANCED ON HIS SOUND LEG.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>By this time Grobstock could control his face no longer, and the last
+episodes of the lottery were played to the accompaniment of a broad
+grin. Keen and complex was his enjoyment. There was not only the
+general surprise at this novel feat of alms; there were the special
+surprises of detail written on face after face, as it flashed or fell
+or frowned in congruity with the contents of the envelope, and for
+undercurrent a delicious hubbub of interjections and benedictions, a
+stretching and withdrawing of palms, and a swift shifting of figures,
+that made the scene a farrago of excitements. So<span class="pagenum">[6]</span> that the broad grin
+was one of gratification as well as of amusement, and part of the
+gratification sprang from a real kindliness of heart&mdash;for Grobstock
+was an easy-going man with whom the world had gone easy. The
+<i>Schnorrers</i> were exhausted before the packets, but the philanthropist
+was in no anxiety to be rid of the remnant. Closing the mouth of the
+considerably lightened bag and clutching it tightly by the throat, and
+recomposing his face to gravity, he moved slowly down the street like
+a stately treasure-ship flecked by the sunlight. His way led towards
+Goodman's Fields, where his mansion was situate, and he knew that the
+fine weather would bring out <i>Schnorrers</i> enough. And, indeed, he had
+not gone many paces before he met a figure he did not remember having
+seen before.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning against a post at the head of the narrow passage which led to
+Bevis Marks was a tall, black-bearded, turbaned personage, a first
+glance at whom showed him of the true tribe. Mechanically Joseph
+Grobstock's hand went to the lucky-bag, and he drew out a
+neatly-folded packet and tendered it to the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger received the gift graciously, and opened it gravely, the
+philanthropist loitering awkwardly to mark the issue. Suddenly the
+dark face became a thunder-cloud, the eyes flashed lightning.</p>
+
+<p>"An evil spirit in your ancestors' bones!" hissed the stranger, from
+between his flashing teeth. "Did you come here to insult me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon, a thousand pardons!" stammered the magnate, wholly taken
+aback. "I fancied you were a&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;poor man."</p>
+
+<p>"And, therefore, you came to insult me!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I thought to help you," murmured Grobstock, turning from red
+to scarlet. Was it possible he had foisted<span class="pagenum">[7]</span> his charity upon an
+undeserving millionaire? No! Through all the clouds of his own
+confusion and the recipient's anger, the figure of a <i>Schnorrer</i>
+loomed too plain for mistake. None but a <i>Schnorrer</i> would wear a
+home-made turban, issue of a black cap crossed with a white kerchief;
+none but a <i>Schnorrer</i> would unbutton the first nine buttons of his
+waistcoat, or, if this relaxation were due to the warmth of the
+weather, counteract it by wearing an over-garment, especially one as
+heavy as a blanket, with buttons the size of compasses and flaps
+reaching nearly to his shoe-buckles, even though its length were only
+congruous with that of his undercoat, which already reached the
+bottoms of his knee-breeches. Finally, who but a <i>Schnorrer</i> would
+wear this overcoat cloak-wise, with dangling sleeves, full of armless
+suggestion from a side view? Quite apart from the shabbiness of the
+snuff-coloured fabric, it was amply evident that the wearer did not
+dress by rule or measure. Yet the disproportions of his attire did but
+enhance the picturesqueness of a personality that would be striking
+even in a bath, though it was not likely to be seen there. The beard
+was jet black, sweeping and unkempt, and ran up his cheeks to meet the
+raven hair, so that the vivid face was framed in black; it was a long,
+tapering face with sanguine lips gleaming at the heart of a black
+bush; the eyes were large and lambent, set in deep sockets under black
+arching eyebrows; the nose was long and Coptic; the brow low but
+broad, with straggling wisps of hair protruding from beneath the
+turban. His right hand grasped a plain ashen staff.</p>
+
+<p>Worthy Joseph Grobstock found the figure of the mendicant only too
+impressive; he shrank uneasily before the indignant eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I meant to help you," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"And this is how one helps a brother in Israel?" said the<span class="pagenum">[8]</span>
+<i>Schnorrer</i>, throwing the paper contemptuously into the
+philanthropist's face. It struck him on the bridge of the nose, but
+impinged so mildly that he felt at once what was the matter. The
+packet was empty&mdash;the <i>Schnorrer</i> had drawn a blank; the only one the
+good-natured man had put into the bag.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i003.jpg" width="406" height="661" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;IT STRUCK HIM ON THE BRIDGE OF THE NOSE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Schnorrer's</i> audacity sobered Joseph Grobstock completely; it
+might have angered him to chastise the fellow, but it did not. His
+better nature prevailed; he began to feel shamefaced, fumbled
+sheepishly in his pocket for a crown; then hesitated, as fearing this
+peace-offering would not altogether suffice with so rare a spirit, and
+that he owed the stranger more than silver&mdash;an apology to wit. He
+proceeded honestly to pay it, but with a maladroit manner, as one
+unaccustomed to the currency.</p>
+
+<p>"You are an impertinent rascal," he said, "but I daresay you feel
+hurt. Let me assure you I did not know there was nothing in the
+packet. I did not, indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"Then your steward has robbed me!" exclaimed the <i>Schnorrer</i>
+excitedly. "You let him make up the packets, and he has stolen my
+money&mdash;the thief, the transgressor, thrice-cursed who robs the poor."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't understand," interrupted the magnate meekly. "I made up the
+packets myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, why do you say you did not know what was in them? Go, you mock
+my misery!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, hear me out!" urged Grobstock desperately. "In some I placed
+gold, in the greater number silver, in a few copper, in one
+alone&mdash;nothing. That is the one you have drawn. It is your
+misfortune."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>My</i> misfortune!" echoed the <i>Schnorrer</i> scornfully. "It is <i>your</i>
+misfortune&mdash;I did not even draw it. The Holy One, blessed be He, has
+punished you for your heartless<span class="pagenum">[9]</span> <span class="pagenum">[10]</span>jesting with the poor&mdash;making a
+sport for yourself of their misfortunes, even as the Philistines
+sported with Samson. The good deed you might have put to your account
+by a gratuity to me, God has taken from you. He has declared you
+unworthy of achieving righteousness through me. Go your way,
+murderer!"</p>
+
+<p>"Murderer!" repeated the philanthropist, bewildered by this harsh view
+of his action.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, murderer! Stands it not in the Talmud that he who shames another
+is as one who spills his blood? And have you not put me to shame&mdash;if
+anyone had witnessed your almsgiving, would he not have laughed in my
+beard?"</p>
+
+<p>The pillar of the Synagogue felt as if his paunch were shrinking.</p>
+
+<p>"But the others&mdash;" he murmured deprecatingly. "I have not shed their
+blood&mdash;have I not given freely of my hard-earned gold?"</p>
+
+<p>"For your own diversion," retorted the <i>Schnorrer</i> implacably. "But
+what says the Midrash? There is a wheel rolling in the world&mdash;not he
+who is rich to-day is rich to-morrow, but this one He brings up, and
+this one He brings down, as is said in the seventy-fifth Psalm.
+Therefore, lift not up your horn on high, nor speak with a stiff
+neck."</p>
+
+<p>He towered above the unhappy capitalist, like an ancient prophet
+denouncing a swollen monarch. The poor man put his hand involuntarily
+to his high collar as if to explain away his apparent arrogance, but
+in reality because he was not breathing easily under the <i>Schnorrer's</i>
+attack.</p>
+
+<p>"You are an uncharitable man," he panted hotly, driven to a line of
+defence he had not anticipated. "I did it not from wantonness, but
+from faith in Heaven. I know well that God sits turning a
+wheel&mdash;therefore I did not presume<span class="pagenum">[11]</span> to turn it myself. Did I not let
+Providence select who should have the silver and who the gold, who the
+copper and who the emptiness? Besides, God alone knows who really
+needs my assistance&mdash;I have made Him my almoner; I have cast my burden
+on the Lord."</p>
+
+<p>"Epicurean!" shrieked the <i>Schnorrer</i>. "Blasphemer! Is it thus you
+would palter with the sacred texts? Do you forget what the next verse
+says: 'Bloodthirsty and deceitful men shall not live out half their
+days'? Shame on you&mdash;you a <i>Gabbai</i> (treasurer) of the Great
+Synagogue. You see I know you, Joseph Grobstock. Has not the beadle of
+your Synagogue boasted to me that you have given him a guinea for
+brushing your spatterdashes? Would you think of offering <i>him</i> a
+packet? Nay, it is the poor that are trodden on&mdash;they whose merits are
+in excess of those of beadles. But the Lord will find others to take
+up his loans&mdash;for he who hath pity on the poor lendeth to the Lord.
+You are no true son of Israel."</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Schnorrer's</i> tirade was long enough to allow Grobstock to recover
+his dignity and his breath.</p>
+
+<p>"If you really knew me, you would know that the Lord is considerably
+in my debt," he rejoined quietly. "When next you would discuss me,
+speak with the Psalms-men, not the beadle. Never have I neglected the
+needy. Even now, though you have been insolent and uncharitable, I am
+ready to befriend you if you are in want."</p>
+
+<p>"If I am in want!" repeated the <i>Schnorrer</i> scornfully. "Is there
+anything I do not want?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are married?"</p>
+
+<p>"You correct me&mdash;wife and children are the only things I do <i>not</i>
+lack."</p>
+
+<p>"No pauper does," quoth Grobstock, with a twinkle of restored humour.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[12]</span></p>
+
+<p>"No," assented the <i>Schnorrer</i> sternly. "The poor man has the fear of
+Heaven. He obeys the Law and the Commandments. He marries while he is
+young&mdash;and his spouse is not cursed with barrenness. It is the rich
+man who transgresses the Judgment, who delays to come under the
+Canopy."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! well, here is a guinea&mdash;in the name of my wife," broke in
+Grobstock laughingly. "Or stay&mdash;since you do not brush
+spatterdashes&mdash;here is another."</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of my wife," rejoined the <i>Schnorrer</i> with dignity, "I
+thank you."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank me in your own name," said Grobstock. "I mean tell it me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa," he answered simply.</p>
+
+<p>"A Sephardi!" exclaimed the philanthropist.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it not written on my face, even as it is written on yours that you
+are a Tedesco? It is the first time that I have taken gold from one of
+your lineage."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed!" murmured Grobstock, beginning to feel small again.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;are we not far richer than your community? What need have I to
+take the good deeds away from my own people&mdash;they have too few
+opportunities for beneficence as it is, being so many of them wealthy;
+brokers and West India merchants, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But I, too, am a financier, and an East India Director," Grobstock
+reminded him.</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe; but your community is yet young and struggling&mdash;your rich men
+are as the good men in Sodom for multitude. You are the immigrants of
+yesterday&mdash;refugees from the Ghettoes of Russia and Poland and
+Germany. But we, as you are aware, have been established here for
+generations;<span class="pagenum">[13]</span> in the Peninsula our ancestors graced the courts of
+kings, and controlled the purse-strings of princes; in Holland we held
+the empery of trade. Ours have been the poets and scholars in Israel.
+You cannot expect that we should recognise your rabble, which
+prejudices us in the eyes of England. We made the name of Jew
+honourable; you degrade it. You are as the mixed multitude which came
+up with our forefathers out of Egypt."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said Grobstock sharply. "All Israel are brethren."</p>
+
+<p>"Esau was the brother of Israel," answered Manasseh sententiously.
+"But you will excuse me if I go a-marketing, it is such a pleasure to
+handle gold." There was a note of wistful pathos in the latter remark
+which took off the edge of the former, and touched Joseph with
+compunction for bandying words with a hungry man whose loved ones were
+probably starving patiently at home.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, haste away," he said kindly.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall see you again," said Manasseh, with a valedictory wave of his
+hand, and digging his staff into the cobblestones he journeyed
+forwards without bestowing a single backward glance upon his
+benefactor.</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock's road took him to Petticoat Lane in the wake of Manasseh.
+He had no intention of following him, but did not see why he should
+change his route for fear of the <i>Schnorrer</i>, more especially as
+Manasseh did not look back. By this time he had become conscious again
+of the bag he carried, but he had no heart to proceed with the fun. He
+felt conscience stricken, and had recourse to his pockets instead in
+his progress through the narrow jostling market-street, where he
+scarcely ever bought anything personally save fish and good deeds. He
+was a connoisseur in both. To-day he picked up many a good deed cheap,
+paying<span class="pagenum">[14]</span> pennies for articles he did not take away&mdash;shoe-latchets and
+cane-strings, barley-sugar and butter-cakes. Suddenly, through a chink
+in an opaque mass of human beings, he caught sight of a small
+attractive salmon on a fishmonger's slab. His eye glittered, his chops
+watered. He elbowed his way to the vendor, whose eye caught a
+corresponding gleam, and whose finger went to his hat in respectful
+greeting.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon, Jonathan," said Grobstock jovially, "I'll take that
+salmon there&mdash;how much?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," said a voice in the crowd, "I am just bargaining for it."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock started. It was the voice of Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"Stop that nonsense, da Costa," responded the fishmonger. "You know
+you won't give me my price. It is the only one I have left," he added,
+half for the benefit of Grobstock. "I couldn't let it go under a
+couple of guineas."</p>
+
+<p>"Here's your money," cried Manasseh with passionate contempt, and sent
+two golden coins spinning musically upon the slab.</p>
+
+<p>In the crowd sensation, in Grobstock's breast astonishment,
+indignation, and bitterness. He was struck momentarily dumb. His face
+purpled. The scales of the salmon shone like a celestial vision that
+was fading from him by his own stupidity.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take that salmon, Jonathan," he repeated, spluttering. "Three
+guineas."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me," repeated Manasseh, "it is too late. This is not an
+auction." He seized the fish by the tail.</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock turned upon him, goaded to the point of apoplexy. "You!" he
+cried. "You&mdash;you&mdash;rogue! How dare you buy salmon!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i004.jpg" width="412" height="414" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;YOU ROGUE! HOW DARE YOU BUY SALMON!&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Rogue yourself!" retorted Manasseh. "Would you have me steal
+salmon?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[15]</span></p>
+
+<p>"You have stolen my money, knave, rascal!"</p>
+
+<p>"Murderer! Shedder of blood! Did you not give me the money as a
+free-will offering, for the good of your wife's soul? I call on you
+before all these witnesses to confess yourself a slanderer!"</p>
+
+<p>"Slanderer, indeed! I repeat, you are a knave and a jackanapes. You&mdash;a
+pauper&mdash;a beggar&mdash;with a wife and children. How can you have the face
+to go and spend two<span class="pagenum">[16]</span> guineas&mdash;two whole guineas&mdash;all you have in the
+world&mdash;on a mere luxury like salmon?"</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh elevated his arched eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p>"If I do not buy salmon when I have two guineas," he answered quietly,
+"when shall I buy salmon? As you say, it is a luxury; very dear. It is
+only on rare occasions like this that my means run to it." There was a
+dignified pathos about the rebuke that mollified the magnate. He felt
+that there was reason in the beggar's point of view&mdash;though it was a
+point to which he would never himself have risen, unaided. But
+righteous anger still simmered in him; he felt vaguely that there was
+something to be said in reply, though he also felt that even if he
+knew what it was, it would have to be said in a lower key to
+correspond with Manasseh's transition from the high pitch of the
+opening passages. Not finding the requisite repartee he was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of my wife," went on Manasseh, swinging the salmon by the
+tail, "I ask you to clear my good name which you have bespattered in
+the presence of my very tradesmen. Again I call upon you to confess
+before these witnesses that you gave me the money yourself in charity.
+Come! Do you deny it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't deny it," murmured Grobstock, unable to understand why he
+appeared to himself like a whipped cur, or how what should have been a
+boast had been transformed into an apology to a beggar.</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of my wife, I thank you," said Manasseh. "She loves
+salmon, and fries with unction. And now, since you have no further use
+for that bag of yours, I will relieve you of its burden by taking my
+salmon home in it." He took the canvas bag from the limp grasp of the
+astonished Tedesco, and dropped the fish in. The head protruded,
+surveying the scene with a cold, glassy, ironical eye.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[17]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i005.jpg" width="416" height="592" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE HEAD PROTRUDED.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[18]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon all," said the <i>Schnorrer</i> courteously.</p>
+
+<p>"One moment," called out the philanthropist, when he found his tongue.
+"The bag is not empty&mdash;there are a number of packets still left in
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"So much the better!" said Manasseh soothingly. "You will be saved
+from the temptation to continue shedding the blood of the poor, and I
+shall be saved from spending <i>all</i> your bounty upon salmon&mdash;an
+extravagance you were right to deplore."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but!" began Grobstock.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no 'buts,'" protested Manasseh, waving his bag deprecatingly.
+"You were right. You admitted you were wrong before; shall I be less
+magnanimous now? In the presence of all these witnesses I acknowledge
+the justice of your rebuke. I ought not to have wasted two guineas on
+one fish. It was not worth it. Come over here, and I will tell you
+something." He walked out of earshot of the by-standers, turning down
+a side alley opposite the stall, and beckoned with his salmon bag. The
+East India Director had no course but to obey. He would probably have
+followed him in any case, to have it out with him, but now he had a
+humiliating sense of being at the <i>Schnorrer's</i> beck and call.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what more have you to say?" he demanded gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish to save you money in future," said the beggar in low,
+confidential tones. "That Jonathan is a son of the separation! The
+salmon is not worth two guineas&mdash;no, on my soul! If you had not come
+up I should have got it for twenty-five shillings. Jonathan stuck on
+the price when he thought you would buy. I trust you will not let me
+be the loser by your arrival, and that if I should find less than
+seventeen shillings in the bag you will make it up to me."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[19]</span></p>
+
+<p>The bewildered financier felt his grievance disappearing as by sleight
+of hand.</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh added winningly: "I know you are a gentleman, capable of
+behaving as finely as any Sephardi."</p>
+
+<p>This handsome compliment completed the <i>Schnorrer's</i> victory, which
+was sealed by his saying, "And so I should not like you to have it on
+your soul that you had done a poor man out of a few shillings."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock could only remark meekly: "You will find more than seventeen
+shillings in the bag."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, why were you born a Tedesco!" cried Manasseh ecstatically. "Do
+you know what I have a mind to do? To come and be your Sabbath-guest!
+Yes, I will take supper with you next Friday, and we will welcome the
+Bride&mdash;the holy Sabbath&mdash;together! Never before have I sat at the
+table of a Tedesco&mdash;but you&mdash;you are a man after my own heart. Your
+soul is a son of Spain. Next Friday at six&mdash;do not forget."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but I do not have Sabbath-guests," faltered Grobstock.</p>
+
+<p>"Not have Sabbath-guests! No, no, I will not believe you are of the
+sons of Belial, whose table is spread only for the rich, who do not
+proclaim your equality with the poor even once a week. It is your fine
+nature that would hide its benefactions. Do not I, Manasseh Bueno
+Barzillai Azevedo da Costa, have at my Sabbath-table every week
+Yankel&eacute; ben Yitzchok&mdash;a Pole? And if I have a Tedesco at my table, why
+should I draw the line there? Why should I not permit you, a Tedesco,
+to return the hospitality to me, a Sephardi? At six, then! I know your
+house well&mdash;it is an elegant building that does credit to your
+taste&mdash;do not be uneasy&mdash;I shall not fail to be punctual. <i>A Dios!</i>"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[20]</span></p>
+
+<p>This time he waved his stick fraternally, and stalked down a turning.
+For an instant Grobstock stood glued to the spot, crushed by a sense
+of the inevitable. Then a horrible thought occurred to him.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i006.jpg" width="325" height="420" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;WAVED HIS STICK FRATERNALLY.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Easy-going man as he was, he might put up with the visitation of
+Manasseh. But then he had a wife, and, what was worse, a livery
+servant. How could he expect a livery servant to tolerate such a
+guest? He might fly from the town on Friday evening, but that would
+necessitate troublesome<span class="pagenum">[21]</span> explanations. And Manasseh would come again
+the next Friday. That was certain. Manasseh would be like grim
+death&mdash;his coming, though it might be postponed, was inevitable. Oh,
+it was too terrible. At all costs he must revoke the invitation(?).
+Placed between Scylla and Charybdis, between Manasseh and his
+manservant, he felt he could sooner face the former.</p>
+
+<p>"Da Costa!" he called in agony. "Da Costa!"</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Schnorrer</i> turned, and then Grobstock found he was mistaken in
+imagining he preferred to face da Costa.</p>
+
+<p>"You called me?" enquired the beggar.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye&mdash;e&mdash;s," faltered the East India Director, and stood paralysed.</p>
+
+<p>"What can I do for you?" said Manasseh graciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you mind&mdash;very much&mdash;if I&mdash;if I asked you&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not to come," was in his throat, but stuck there.</p>
+
+<p>"If you asked me&mdash;" said Manasseh encouragingly.</p>
+
+<p>"To accept some of my clothes," flashed Grobstock, with a sudden
+inspiration. After all, Manasseh was a fine figure of a man. If he
+could get him to doff those musty garments of his he might almost pass
+him off as a prince of the blood, foreign by his beard&mdash;at any rate he
+could be certain of making him acceptable to the livery servant. He
+breathed freely again at this happy solution of the situation.</p>
+
+<p>"Your cast-off clothes?" asked Manasseh. Grobstock was not sure
+whether the tone was supercilious or eager. He hastened to explain.
+"No, not quite that. Second-hand things I am still wearing. My old
+clothes were already given away at Passover to Simeon the Psalms-man.
+These are comparatively new."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I would beg you to excuse me," said Manasseh, with a stately
+wave of the bag.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[22]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but why not?" murmured Grobstock, his blood running cold again.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot," said Manasseh, shaking his head.</p>
+
+<p>"But they will just about fit you," pleaded the philanthropist.</p>
+
+<p>"That makes it all the more absurd for you to give them to Simeon the
+Psalms-man," said Manasseh sternly. "Still, since he is your
+clothes-receiver, I could not think of interfering with his office. It
+is not etiquette. I am surprised you should ask me if I should mind.
+Of course I should mind&mdash;I should mind very much."</p>
+
+<p>"But he is not my clothes-receiver," protested Grobstock. "Last
+Passover was the first time I gave them to him, because my cousin,
+Hyam Rosenstein, who used to have them, has died."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely he considers himself your cousin's heir," said Manasseh.
+"He expects all your old clothes henceforth."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I gave him no such promise."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, in that case&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"In that case," repeated Grobstock breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"On condition that I am to have the appointment permanently, of
+course."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," echoed Grobstock eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Because you see," Manasseh condescended to explain, "it hurts one's
+reputation to lose a client."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, naturally," said Grobstock soothingly. "I quite
+understand." Then, feeling himself slipping into future
+embarrassments, he added timidly, "Of course they will not always be
+so good as the first lot, because&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Say no more," Manasseh interrupted reassuringly, "I will come at once
+and fetch them."</p>
+
+<p>"No. I will send them," cried Grobstock, horrified afresh.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[23]</span></p>
+
+<p>"I could not dream of permitting it. What! Shall I put you to all that
+trouble which should rightly be mine? I will go at once&mdash;the matter
+shall be settled without delay, I promise you; as it is written, 'I
+made haste and delayed not!' Follow me!" Grobstock suppressed a groan.
+Here had all his man&oelig;uvring landed him in a worse plight than ever.
+He would have to present Manasseh to the livery servant without even
+that clean face which might not unreasonably have been expected for
+the Sabbath. Despite the text quoted by the erudite <i>Schnorrer</i>, he
+strove to put off the evil hour.</p>
+
+<p>"Had you not better take the salmon home to your wife first?" said he.</p>
+
+<p>"My duty is to enable you to complete your good deed at once. My wife
+is unaware of the salmon. She is in no suspense."</p>
+
+<p>Even as the <i>Schnorrer</i> spake it flashed upon Grobstock that Manasseh
+was more presentable with the salmon than without it&mdash;in fact, that
+the salmon was the salvation of the situation. When Grobstock bought
+fish he often hired a man to carry home the spoil. Manasseh would have
+all the air of such a loafer. Who would suspect that the fish and even
+the bag belonged to the porter, though purchased with the gentleman's
+money? Grobstock silently thanked Providence for the ingenious way in
+which it had contrived to save his self-respect. As a mere
+fish-carrier Manasseh would attract no second glance from the
+household; once safely in, it would be comparatively easy to smuggle
+him out, and when he did come on Friday night it would be in the
+metamorphosing glories of a body-coat, with his unspeakable
+undergarment turned into a shirt and his turban knocked into a cocked
+hat.</p>
+
+<p>They emerged into Aldgate, and then turned down Leman<span class="pagenum">[24]</span> Street, a
+fashionable quarter, and so into Great Prescott Street. At the
+critical street corner Grobstock's composure began to desert him: he
+took out his handsomely ornamented snuff-box and administered to
+himself a mighty pinch. It did him good, and he walked on and was well
+nigh arrived at his own door when Manasseh suddenly caught him by a
+coat button.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i007.jpg" width="303" height="412" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;ADMINISTERED A MIGHTY PINCH.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Stand still a second," he cried imperatively.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[25]</span></p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" murmured Grobstock, in alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"You have spilt snuff all down your coat front," Manasseh replied
+severely. "Hold the bag a moment while I brush it off."</p>
+
+<p>Joseph obeyed, and Manasseh scrupulously removed every particle with
+such patience that Grobstock's was exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said at last, as politely as he could. "That will do."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it will not do," replied Manasseh. "I cannot have my coat
+spoiled. By the time it comes to me it will be a mass of stains if I
+don't look after it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is that why you took so much trouble?" said Grobstock, with an
+uneasy laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Why else? Do you take me for a beadle, a brusher of gaiters?"
+enquired Manasseh haughtily. "There now! that is the cleanest I can
+get it. You would escape these droppings if you held your snuff-box
+so&mdash;" Manasseh gently took the snuff-box and began to explain, walking
+on a few paces.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, we are at home!" he cried, breaking off the object-lesson
+suddenly. He pushed open the gate, ran up the steps of the mansion and
+knocked thunderously, then snuffed himself magnificently from the
+bejewelled snuff-box.</p>
+
+<p>Behind came Joseph Grobstock, slouching limply, and carrying Manasseh
+da Costa's fish.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[26]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">SHOWING HOW THE KING REIGNED.</p>
+
+<p>When he realised that he had been turned into a fish-porter, the
+financier hastened up the steps so as to be at the <i>Schnorrer's</i> side
+when the door opened.</p>
+
+<p>The livery-servant was visibly taken aback by the spectacle of their
+juxtaposition.</p>
+
+<p>"This salmon to the cook!" cried Grobstock desperately, handing him
+the bag.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/i008.jpg" width="304" height="470" alt="" class="border2" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;THIS SALMON TO THE COOK!&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Da Costa looked thunders, and was about to speak, but Grobstock's eye
+sought his in frantic appeal. "Wait a minute; I will settle with you,"
+he cried, congratulating himself on a phrase that would carry another
+meaning to Wilkinson's ears. He drew a breath of relief when the
+flunkey disappeared, and left them standing in the spacious hall with
+its statues and plants.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this the way you steal my salmon, after all?" demanded da Costa
+hotly.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush! I didn't mean to steal it! I will pay you for it!"</p>
+
+<p>"I refuse to sell! You coveted it from the first&mdash;you have broken the
+Tenth Commandment, even as these stone figures violate the Second.
+Your invitation to me to accompany you here at once was a mere trick.
+Now I understand why you were so eager."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, da Costa. Seeing that you placed the fish in my hands, I had
+no option but to give it to Wilkinson, because&mdash;because&mdash;" Grobstock
+would have had some difficulty in explaining, but Manasseh saved him
+the pain.</p>
+
+<p>"You had to give <i>my</i> fish to Wilkinson!" he interrupted.<span class="pagenum">[27]</span> "Sir, I
+thought you were a fine man, a man of honour. I admit that I placed my
+fish in your hands. But because I had no hesitation in allowing you to
+carry it, this is how you repay my confidence!"</p>
+
+<p>In the whirl of his thoughts Grobstock grasped at the word "repay" as
+a swimmer in a whirlpool grasps at a straw.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[28]</span></p>
+
+<p>"I will repay your money!" he cried. "Here are your two guineas. You
+will get another salmon, and more cheaply. As you pointed out, you
+could have got this for twenty-five shillings."</p>
+
+<p>"Two guineas!" ejaculated Manasseh contemptuously. "Why you offered
+Jonathan, the fishmonger, three!"</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock was astounded, but it was beneath him to bargain. And he
+remembered that, after all, he <i>would</i> enjoy the salmon.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, here are three guineas," he said pacifically, offering them.</p>
+
+<p>"Three guineas!" echoed Manasseh, spurning them. "And what of my
+profit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Profit!" gasped Grobstock.</p>
+
+<p>"Since you have made me a middle-man, since you have forced me into
+the fish trade, I must have my profits like anybody else."</p>
+
+<p>"Here is a crown extra!"</p>
+
+<p>"And my compensation?"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" enquired Grobstock, exasperated. "Compensation for
+what?"</p>
+
+<p>"For what? For two things at the very least," Manasseh said
+unswervingly. "In the first place," and as he began his logically
+divided reply his tone assumed the sing-song sacred to Talmudical
+dialectics, "compensation for not eating the salmon myself. For it is
+not as if I offered it you&mdash;I merely entrusted it to you, and it is
+ordained in Exodus that if a man shall deliver unto his neighbour an
+ass, or an ox, or a sheep, or any beast to keep, then for every matter
+of trespass, whether it be for ox, for ass, for sheep, for raiment, or
+for any manner of lost thing, the man shall receive double, and
+therefore you should pay me six guineas. And secondly&mdash;"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[29]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Not another farthing!" spluttered Grobstock, red as a turkey-cock.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said the <i>Schnorrer</i> imperturbably, and, lifting up his
+voice, he called "Wilkinson!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" commanded Grobstock. "What are you doing?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell Wilkinson to bring back my property."</p>
+
+<p>"Wilkinson will not obey you."</p>
+
+<p>"Not obey <i>me</i>! A servant! Why he is not even black! All the Sephardim
+I visit have black pages&mdash;much grander than Wilkinson&mdash;and they
+tremble at my nod. At Baron D'Aguilar's mansion in Broad Street
+Buildings there is a retinue of twenty-four servants, and they&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And what is your second claim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Compensation for being degraded to fishmongering. I am not of those
+who sell things in the streets. I am a son of the Law, a student of
+the Talmud."</p>
+
+<p>"If a crown piece will satisfy each of these claims&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not a blood-sucker&mdash;as it is said in the Talmud, Tractate
+Passover, 'God loves the man who gives not way to wrath nor stickles
+for his rights'&mdash;that makes altogether three guineas and three
+crowns."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Here they are."</p>
+
+<p>Wilkinson reappeared. "You called me, sir?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, <i>I</i> called you," said Manasseh, "I wished to give you a crown."</p>
+
+<p>And he handed him one of the three. Wilkinson took it, stupefied, and
+retired.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I not get rid of him cleverly?" said Manasseh. "You see how he
+obeys me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-es."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not ask you for more than the bare crown I gave him to save
+your honour."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[30]</span></p>
+
+<p>"To save my honour!"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you have had me tell him the real reason I called him was that
+his master was a thief? No, sir, I was careful not to shed your blood
+in public, though you had no such care for mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Here is the crown!" said Grobstock savagely. "Nay, here are three!"
+He turned out his breeches-pockets to exhibit their absolute nudity.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Manasseh mildly, "I shall take but two. You had best
+keep the other&mdash;you may want a little silver." He pressed it into the
+magnate's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You should not be so prodigal in future," he added, in kindly
+reproach. "It is bad to be left with nothing in one's pocket&mdash;I know
+the feeling, and can sympathise with you." Grobstock stood speechless,
+clasping the crown of charity.</p>
+
+<p>Standing thus at the hall door, he had the air of Wilkinson, surprised
+by a too generous vail.</p>
+
+<p>Da Costa cut short the crisis by offering his host a pinch from the
+jewel-crusted snuff-box. Grobstock greedily took the whole box, the
+beggar resigning it to him without protest. In his gratitude for this
+unexpected favour, Grobstock pocketed the silver insult without
+further ado, and led the way towards the second-hand clothes. He
+walked gingerly, so as not to awaken his wife, who was a great amateur
+of the siesta, and might issue suddenly from her apartment like a
+spider, but Manasseh stolidly thumped on the stairs with his staff.
+Happily the carpet was thick.</p>
+
+<p>The clothes hung in a mahogany wardrobe with a plateglass front in
+Grobstock's elegantly appointed bedchamber.</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock rummaged among them while Manasseh, parting the white
+Persian curtains lined with pale pink, gazed out of the window towards
+the Tenterground that stretched in the rear of the mansion. Leaning on
+his staff,<span class="pagenum">[31]</span> he watched the couples promenading among the sunlit
+parterres and amid the shrubberies, in the cool freshness of declining
+day. Here and there the vivid face of a dark-eyed beauty gleamed like
+a passion-flower. Manasseh surveyed the scene with bland benevolence;
+at peace with God and man.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i009.jpg" width="276" height="465" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;GROBSTOCK RUMMAGED AMONG THEM.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He did not deign to bestow a glance upon the garments till Grobstock
+observed: "There! I think that's all I can spare." Then he turned
+leisurely and regarded&mdash;with the same benign aspect&mdash;the litter
+Grobstock had spread upon the bed&mdash;a medley of articles in excellent
+condition, gorgeous neckerchiefs piled in three-cornered hats, and
+buckled shoes trampling on white waistcoats. But his eye had scarcely
+rested on them a quarter of a minute when a sudden flash came into it,
+and a spasm crossed his face.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[32]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me!" he cried, and hastened towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" exclaimed Grobstock, in astonished apprehension.
+Was his gift to be flouted thus?</p>
+
+<p>"I'll be back in a moment," said Manasseh, and hurried down the
+stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Relieved on one point, Grobstock was still full of vague alarms. He
+ran out on the landing. "What do you want?" he called down as loudly
+as he dared.</p>
+
+<p>"My money!" said Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>Imagining that the <i>Schnorrer</i> had left the proceeds of the sale of
+the salmon in the hall, Joseph Grobstock returned to his room, and
+occupied himself half-mechanically in sorting the garments he had
+thrown higgledy-piggledy upon the bed. In so doing he espied amid the
+heap a pair of pantaloons entirely new and unworn which he had
+carelessly thrown in. It was while replacing this in the wardrobe that
+he heard sounds of objurgation. The cook's voice&mdash;Hibernian and
+high-pitched&mdash;travelled unmistakably to his ears, and brought fresh
+trepidation to his heart. He repaired to the landing again, and craned
+his neck over the balustrade. Happily the sounds were evanescent; in
+another minute Manasseh's head reappeared, mounting. When his left
+hand came in sight, Grobstock perceived it was grasping the lucky-bag
+with which a certain philanthropist had started out so joyously that
+afternoon. The unlucky-bag he felt inclined to dub it now.</p>
+
+<p>"I have recovered it!" observed the <i>Schnorrer</i> cheerfully. "As it is
+written, 'And David recovered all that the Amalekites had taken.' You
+see in the excitement of the moment I did not notice that you had
+stolen my packets of silver as well as my salmon. Luckily your cook
+had not yet removed the fish from the bag&mdash;I chid her all the same for
+neglecting to put it into water, and she opened her<span class="pagenum">[33]</span> mouth not in
+wisdom. If she had not been a heathen I should have suspected her of
+trickery, for I knew nothing of the amount of money in the bag, saving
+your assurance that it did not fall below seventeen shillings, and it
+would have been easy for her to replace the fish. Therefore, in the
+words of David, will I give thanks unto Thee, O Lord, among the
+heathen."</p>
+
+<p>The mental vision of the irruption of Manasseh into the kitchen was
+not pleasant to Grobstock. However, he only murmured: "How came you to
+think of it so suddenly?"</p>
+
+<p>"Looking at your clothes reminded me. I was wondering if you had left
+anything in the pockets."</p>
+
+<p>The donor started&mdash;he knew himself a careless rascal&mdash;and made as if
+he would overhaul his garments. The glitter in Manasseh's eye
+petrified him.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you&mdash;do you&mdash;mind my looking?" he stammered apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I a dog?" quoted the <i>Schnorrer</i> with dignity. "Am I a thief that
+you should go over my pockets? If, when I get home," he conceded,
+commencing to draw distinctions with his thumb, "I should find
+anything in my pockets that is of no value to anybody but you, do you
+fear I will not return it? If, on the other hand, I find anything that
+is of value to me, do you fear I will not keep it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but&mdash;but&mdash;" Grobstock broke down, scarcely grasping the
+argumentation despite his own clarity of financial insight; he only
+felt vaguely that the <i>Schnorrer</i> was&mdash;professionally enough&mdash;begging
+the question.</p>
+
+<p>"But what?" enquired Manasseh. "Surely you need not me to teach you
+your duty. You cannot be ignorant of the Law of Moses on the point."</p>
+
+<p>"The Law of Moses says nothing on the point!"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! What says Deuteronomy? 'When thou reapest<span class="pagenum">[34]</span> thine harvest in
+thy field, and hast forgot a sheaf in the field, thou shalt not go
+again to fetch it: it shall be for the stranger, for the fatherless,
+and for the widow.' Is it not further forbidden to go over the boughs
+of thy olive-tree again, or to gather the fallen fruit of thy
+vineyard? You will admit that Moses would have added a prohibition
+against searching minutely the pockets of cast-off garments, were it
+not that for forty years our ancestors had to wander in the wilderness
+in the same clothes, which miraculously waxed with their growth. No, I
+feel sure you will respect the spirit of the law, for when I went down
+into your kitchen and examined the door-post to see if you had nailed
+up a <i>mezuzah</i> upon it, knowing that many Jews only flaunt <i>mezuzahs</i>
+on door-posts visible to visitors, it rejoiced me to find one below
+stairs."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock's magnanimity responded to the appeal. It would be indeed
+petty to scrutinise his pockets, or to feel the linings for odd coins.
+After all he had Manasseh's promise to restore papers and everything
+of no value.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," he said pleasantly, consoled by the thought his troubles
+had now come to an end&mdash;for that day at least&mdash;"take them away as they
+are."</p>
+
+<p>"It is all very well to say take them away," replied Manasseh, with a
+touch of resentment, "but what am I to take them in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh&mdash;ah&mdash;yes! There must be a sack somewhere&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And do you think I would carry them away in a sack? Would you have me
+look like an old clo' man? I must have a box. I see several in the
+box-room."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Grobstock resignedly. "If there's an empty one you
+may have it."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh laid his stick on the dressing-table and carefully examined
+the boxes, some of which were carelessly open,<span class="pagenum">[35]</span> while every lock had a
+key sticking in it. They had travelled far and wide with Grobstock,
+who invariably combined pleasure with business.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i010.jpg" width="321" height="348" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;MANASSEH CAREFULLY EXAMINED THE BOXES.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"There is none quite empty," announced the <i>Schnorrer</i>, "but in this
+one there are only a few trifles&mdash;a pair of galligaskins and such
+like&mdash;so that if you make me a present of them the box <i>will</i> be
+empty, so far as you are concerned."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Grobstock, and actually laughed. The nearer the
+departure of the <i>Schnorrer</i>, the higher his spirits rose.</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh dragged the box towards the bed, and then for<span class="pagenum">[36]</span> the first time
+since his return from the under-regions, surveyed the medley of
+garments upon it.</p>
+
+<p>The light-hearted philanthropist, watching his face, saw it instantly
+change to darkness, like a tropical landscape. His own face grew
+white. The <i>Schnorrer</i> uttered an inarticulate cry, and turned a
+strange, questioning glance upon his patron.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it now?" faltered Grobstock.</p>
+
+<p>"I miss a pair of pantaloons!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i011.jpg" width="355" height="531" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;I MISS A PAIR OF PANTALOONS!&#39; HE SHRIEKED.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock grew whiter. "Nonsense! nonsense!" he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;miss&mdash;a&mdash;pair&mdash;of&mdash;pantaloons!" reiterated the <i>Schnorrer</i>
+deliberately.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no&mdash;you have all I can spare there," said Grobstock uneasily. The
+<i>Schnorrer</i> hastily turned over the heap.</p>
+
+<p>Then his eye flashed fire; he banged his fist on the dressing-table to
+accompany each <i>staccato</i> syllable.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;miss&mdash;a&mdash;pair&mdash;of&mdash;pan&mdash;ta&mdash;loons!" he shrieked.</p>
+
+<p>The weak and ductile donor had a bad quarter of a minute.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," he stammered at last, "you&mdash;m&mdash;mean&mdash;the new pair I found
+had got accidentally mixed up with them."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I mean the new pair! And so you took them away! Just
+because I wasn't looking. I left the room, thinking I had to do with a
+man of honour. If you had taken an old pair I shouldn't have minded so
+much; but to rob a poor man of his brand-new breeches!"</p>
+
+<p>"I must have them," cried Grobstock irascibly. "I have to go to a
+reception to-morrow, and they are the only pair I shall have to wear.
+You see I&mdash;"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[37]</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[38]</span></p><p>"Oh, very well," interrupted the <i>Schnorrer</i>, in low, indifferent
+tones.</p>
+
+<p>After that there was a dead silence. The <i>Schnorrer</i> majestically
+folded some silk stockings and laid them in the box. Upon them he
+packed other garments in stern, sorrowful <i>hauteur</i>. Grobstock's soul
+began to tingle with pricks of compunction. Da Costa completed his
+task, but could not shut the overcrowded box. Grobstock silently
+seated his weighty person upon the lid. Manasseh neither resented nor
+welcomed him. When he had turned the key he mutely tilted the sitter
+off the box and shouldered it with consummate ease. Then he took his
+staff and strode from the room. Grobstock would have followed him, but
+the <i>Schnorrer</i> waved him back.</p>
+
+<div class="i012">
+
+<div id="i01201">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="i01202">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="cap012">
+<p class="caption">&quot;TILTED THE SITTER OFF THE BOX.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"On Friday, then," the conscience-stricken magnate said feebly.</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh did not reply; he slammed the door instead, shutting in the
+master of the house.</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock fell back on the bed exhausted, looking not unlike the
+tumbled litter of clothes he replaced. In a minute or two he raised
+himself and went to the window, and stood watching the sun set behind
+the trees of the<span class="pagenum">[39]</span> Tenterground. "At any rate I've done with him," he
+said, and hummed a tune. The sudden bursting open of the door froze it
+upon his lips. He was almost relieved to find the intruder was only
+his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you done with Wilkinson?" she cried vehemently. She was a
+pale, puffy-faced, portly matron, with a permanent air of remembering
+the exact figure of her dowry.</p>
+
+<p>"With Wilkinson, my dear? Nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he isn't in the house. I want him, but cook says you've sent
+him out."</p>
+
+<p>"I? Oh, no," he returned, with dawning uneasiness, looking away from
+her sceptical gaze.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly his pupils dilated. A picture from without had painted itself
+on his retina. It was a picture of Wilkinson&mdash;Wilkinson the austere,
+Wilkinson the unbending&mdash;treading the Tenterground gravel, curved
+beneath a box! Before him strode the <i>Schnorrer</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Never during all his tenure of service in Goodman's Fields had
+Wilkinson carried anything on his shoulders but his livery. Grobstock
+would have as soon dreamt of his wife consenting to wear cotton. He
+rubbed his eyes, but the image persisted.</p>
+
+<p>He clutched at the window curtains to steady himself.</p>
+
+<p>"My Persian curtains!" cried his wife. "What is the matter with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"He must be the Baal Shem himself!" gasped Grobstock unheeding.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it? What are you looking at?"</p>
+
+<p>"N&mdash;nothing."</p>
+
+</div> <!-- class="i012" -->
+
+<p>Mrs. Grobstock incredulously approached the window and stared through
+the panes. She saw Wilkinson in the gardens, but did not recognise him
+in his new attitude. She concluded that her husband's agitation must
+have some connection<span class="pagenum">[40]</span> with a beautiful brunette who was tasting the
+cool of the evening in a sedan chair, and it was with a touch of
+asperity that she said: "Cook complains of being insulted by a saucy
+fellow who brought home your fish."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said poor Grobstock. Was he never to be done with the man?</p>
+
+<p>"How came you to send him to her?"</p>
+
+<p>His anger against Manasseh resurged under his wife's peevishness.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," he cried, "I did not send him anywhere&mdash;except to the
+devil."</p>
+
+<p>"Joseph! You might keep such language for the ears of creatures in
+sedan chairs."</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Grobstock flounced out of the room with a rustle of angry
+satin.</p>
+
+<p>When Wilkinson reappeared, limp and tired, with his pompousness exuded
+in perspiration, he sought his master with a message, which he
+delivered ere the flood of interrogation could burst from Grobstock's
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. da Costa presents his compliments, and says that he has decided
+on reconsideration not to break his promise to be with you on Friday
+evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed!" said Grobstock grimly. "And, pray, how came you to carry
+his box?"</p>
+
+<p>"You told me to, sir!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> told you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean he told me you told me to," said Wilkinson wonderingly.
+"Didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock hesitated. Since Manasseh <i>would</i> be his guest, was it not
+imprudent to give him away to the livery-servant? Besides, he felt a
+secret pleasure in Wilkinson's humiliation&mdash;but for the <i>Schnorrer</i> he
+would never have known that Wilkinson's gold lace concealed a pliable
+personality.<span class="pagenum">[41]</span> The proverb "Like master like man" did not occur to
+Grobstock at this juncture.</p>
+
+<p>"I only meant you to carry it to a coach," he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"He said it was not worth while&mdash;the distance was so short."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Did you see his house?" enquired Grobstock curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; a very fine house in Aldgate, with a handsome portico and two
+stone lions."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock strove hard not to look surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"I handed the box to the footman."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock strove harder.</p>
+
+<p>Wilkinson ended with a weak smile: "Would you believe, sir, I thought
+at first he brought home your fish! He dresses so peculiarly. He must
+be an original."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes; an eccentric like Baron D'Aguilar, whom he visits," said
+Grobstock eagerly. He wondered, indeed, whether he was not speaking
+the truth. Could he have been the victim of a practical joke, a prank?
+Did not a natural aristocracy ooze from every pore of his mysterious
+visitor? Was not every tone, every gesture, that of a man born to
+rule? "You must remember, too," he added, "that he is a Spaniard."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I see," said Wilkinson in profound accents.</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay he dresses like everybody else, though, when he dines or
+sups out," Grobstock added lightly. "I only brought him in by
+accident. But go to your mistress! She wants you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you he hopes you will save
+him a slice of his salmon."</p>
+
+<p>"Go to your mistress!"</p>
+
+<p>"You did not tell me a Spanish nobleman was coming to us on Friday,"
+said his spouse later in the evening.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[42]</span></p>
+
+<p>"No," he admitted curtly.</p>
+
+<p>"But is he?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;at least, not a nobleman."</p>
+
+<p>"What then? I have to learn about my guests from my servants."</p>
+
+<p>"Apparently."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! and you think that's right!"</p>
+
+<p>"To gossip with your servants? Certainly not."</p>
+
+<p>"If my husband will not tell me anything&mdash;if he has only eyes for
+sedan chairs."</p>
+
+<p>Joseph thought it best to kiss Mrs. Grobstock.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i013.jpg" width="289" height="436" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THOUGHT IT BEST TO KISS MRS. GROBSTOCK.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"A fellow-Director, I suppose?" she urged, more mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"A fellow-Israelite. He has promised to come at six."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh was punctual to the second. Wilkinson ushered him in. The
+hostess had robed herself in her best to do honour to a situation
+which her husband awaited with what hope he could. She looked radiant
+in a gown of blue silk; her hair was done in a tuft and round her neck
+was an "esclavage," consisting of festoons of gold chains. The Sabbath
+table was equally festive with its ponderous silver candelabra,
+coffee-urn, and consecration cup, its flower-vases, and fruit-salvers.
+The dining-room itself was a handsome apartment; its buffets glittered
+with Venetian glass and Dresden porcelain, and here and there gilt
+pedestals supported globes of gold and silver fish.</p>
+
+<p>At the first glance at his guest Grobstock's blood ran cold.</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh had not turned a hair, nor changed a single garment. At the
+next glance Grobstock's blood boiled. A second figure loomed in
+Manasseh's wake&mdash;a short <i>Schnorrer</i>, even dingier than da Costa, and
+with none of his dignity, a clumsy, stooping <i>Schnorrer</i>, with a
+cajoling grin on his mud-coloured, hairy face. Neither removed his
+headgear.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[43]</span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grobstock remained glued to her chair in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Peace be unto you," said the King of <i>Schnorrers</i>, "I have brought
+with me my friend Yankel&eacute; ben Yitzchok of whom I told you."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; nodded, grinning harder than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"You never told me he was coming," Grobstock rejoined, with an
+apoplectic air.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[44]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Did I not tell you that he always supped with me on Friday evenings?"
+Manasseh reminded him quietly. "It is so good of him to accompany me
+even here&mdash;he will make the necessary third at grace."</p>
+
+<p>The host took a frantic surreptitious glance at his wife. It was
+evident that her brain was in a whirl, the evidence of her senses
+conflicting with vague doubts of the possibilities of Spanish
+grandeeism and with a lingering belief in her husband's sanity.</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock resolved to snatch the benefit of her doubts. "My dear,"
+said he, "this is Mr. da Costa."</p>
+
+<p>"Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa," said the <i>Schnorrer</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The dame seemed a whit startled and impressed. She bowed, but words of
+welcome were still congealed in her throat.</p>
+
+<p>"And this is Yankel&eacute; ben Yitzchok," added Manasseh. "A poor friend of
+mine. I do not doubt, Mrs. Grobstock, that as a pious woman, the
+daughter of Moses Bernberg (his memory for a blessing), you prefer
+grace with three."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i014.jpg" width="407" height="583" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;AND THIS IS YANKEL&Eacute; BEN YITZCHOK,&#39; ADDED MANASSEH.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Any friend of yours is welcome!" She found her lips murmuring the
+conventional phrase without being able to check their output.</p>
+
+<p>"I never doubted that either," said Manasseh gracefully. "Is not the
+hospitality of Moses Bernberg's beautiful daughter a proverb?"</p>
+
+<p>Moses Bernberg's daughter could not deny this; her salon was the
+rendezvous of rich bagmen, brokers and bankers, tempered by occasional
+young bloods and old bucks not of the Jewish faith (nor any other).
+But she had never before encountered a personage so magnificently
+shabby, nor extended her proverbial hospitality to a Polish
+<i>Schnorrer</i> uncompromisingly musty. Joseph did not dare meet her eye.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[45]</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[46]</span></p><p>"Sit down there, Yankel&eacute;," he said hurriedly, in ghastly genial
+accents, and he indicated a chair at the farthest possible point from
+the hostess. He placed Manasseh next to his Polish parasite, and
+seated himself as a buffer between his guests and his wife. He was
+burning with inward indignation at the futile rifling of his wardrobe,
+but he dared not say anything in the hearing of his spouse.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a beautiful custom, this of the Sabbath guest, is it not, Mrs.
+Grobstock?" remarked Manasseh as he took his seat. "I never neglect
+it&mdash;even when I go out to the Sabbath-meal as to-night."</p>
+
+<p>The late Miss Bernberg was suddenly reminded of auld lang syne: her
+father (who according to a wag of the period had divided his time
+between the Law and the profits) having been a depositary of ancient
+tradition. Perhaps these obsolescent customs, unsuited to prosperous
+times, had lingered longer among the Spanish grandees. She seized an
+early opportunity, when the Sephardic <i>Schnorrer</i> was taking his
+coffee from Wilkinson, of putting the question to her husband, who
+fell in weakly with her illusions. He knew there was no danger of
+Manasseh's beggarly status leaking out; no expressions of gratitude
+were likely to fall from that gentleman's lips. He even hinted that da
+Costa dressed so fustily to keep his poor friend in countenance.
+Nevertheless, Mrs. Grobstock, while not without admiration for the
+Quixotism, was not without resentment for being dragged into it. She
+felt that such charity should begin and end at home.</p>
+
+<p>"I see you did save me a slice of salmon," said Manasseh, manipulating
+his fish.</p>
+
+<p>"What salmon was that?" asked the hostess, pricking up her ears.</p>
+
+<p>"One I had from Mr. da Costa on Wednesday," said the host.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[47]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that! It was delicious. I am sure it was very kind of you, Mr. da
+Costa, to make us such a nice present," said the hostess, her
+resentment diminishing. "We had company last night, and everybody
+praised it till none was left. This is another, but I hope it is to
+your liking," she finished anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's very fair, very fair, indeed. I don't know when I've tasted
+better, except at the house of the President of the <i>Deputados</i>. But
+Yankel&eacute; here is a connoisseur in fish, not easy to please. What say
+you, Yankel&eacute;?"</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; munched a muffled approval.</p>
+
+<p>"Help yourself to more bread and butter, Yankel&eacute;," said Manasseh.
+"Make yourself at home&mdash;remember you're my guest." Silently he added:
+"The other fork!"</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock's irritation found vent in a complaint that the salad wanted
+vinegar.</p>
+
+<p>"How can you say so? It's perfect," said Mrs. Grobstock. "Salad is
+cook's speciality."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh tasted it critically. "On salads you must come to me," he
+said. "It does not want vinegar," was his verdict; "but a little more
+oil would certainly improve it. Oh, there is no one dresses salad like
+Hyman!"</p>
+
+<p>Hyman's fame as the <i>Kosher chef</i> who superintended the big dinners at
+the London Tavern had reached Mrs. Grobstock's ears, and she was
+proportionately impressed.</p>
+
+<p>"They say his pastry is so good," she observed, to be in the running.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Manasseh, "in kneading and puffing he stands alone."</p>
+
+<p>"Our cook's tarts are quite as nice," said Grobstock roughly.</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see," Manasseh replied guardedly. "Though,<span class="pagenum">[48]</span> as for
+almond-cakes, Hyman himself makes none better than I get from my
+cousin, Barzillai of Fenchurch Street."</p>
+
+<p>"Your cousin!" exclaimed Grobstock, "the West Indian merchant!"</p>
+
+<p>"The same&mdash;formerly of Barbadoes. Still, your cook knows how to make
+coffee, though I can tell you do not get it direct from the plantation
+like the wardens of my Synagogue."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock was once again piqued with curiosity as to the <i>Schnorrer's</i>
+identity.</p>
+
+<p>"You accuse me of having stone figures in my house," he said boldly,
+"but what about the lions in front of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no lions," said Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"Wilkinson told me so. Didn't you, Wilkinson?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wilkinson is a slanderer. That was the house of Nathaniel Furtado."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock began to choke with chagrin. He perceived at once that the
+<i>Schnorrer</i> had merely had the clothes conveyed direct to the house of
+a wealthy private dealer.</p>
+
+<p>"Take care!" exclaimed the <i>Schnorrer</i> anxiously, "you are spluttering
+sauce all over that waistcoat, without any consideration for me."</p>
+
+<p>Joseph suppressed himself with an effort. Open discussion would betray
+matters to his wife, and he was now too deeply enmeshed in falsehoods
+by default. But he managed to whisper angrily, "Why did you tell
+Wilkinson I ordered him to carry your box?"</p>
+
+<p>"To save your credit in his eyes. How was he to know we had
+quarrelled? He would have thought you discourteous to your guest."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all very fine. But why did you sell my clothes?"</p>
+
+<p>"You did not expect me to wear them? No, I know my station, thank
+God."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[49]</span></p>
+
+<p>"What is that you are saying, Mr. da Costa?" asked the hostess.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we are talking of Dan Mendoza," replied Grobstock glibly;
+"wondering if he'll beat Dick Humphreys at Doncaster."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Joseph, didn't you have enough of Dan Mendoza at supper last
+night?" protested his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not a subject <i>I</i> ever talk about," said the <i>Schnorrer</i>,
+fixing his host with a reproachful glance.</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock desperately touched his foot under the table, knowing he was
+selling his soul to the King of <i>Schnorrers</i>, but too flaccid to face
+the moment.</p>
+
+<p>"No, da Costa doesn't usually," he admitted. "Only Dan Mendoza being a
+Portuguese I happened to ask if he was ever seen in the Synagogue."</p>
+
+<p>"If I had my way," growled da Costa, "he should be excommunicated&mdash;a
+bruiser, a defacer of God's image!"</p>
+
+<p>"By gad, no!" cried Grobstock, stirred up. "If you had seen him lick
+the Badger in thirty-five minutes on a twenty-four foot stage&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Joseph! Joseph! Remember it is the Sabbath!" cried Mrs. Grobstock.</p>
+
+<p>"I would willingly exchange our Dan Mendoza for your David Levi," said
+da Costa severely.</p>
+
+<p>David Levi was the literary ornament of the Ghetto; a shoe-maker and
+hat-dresser who cultivated Hebrew philology and the Muses, and broke a
+lance in defence of his creed with Dr. Priestley, the discoverer of
+Oxygen, and Tom Paine, the discoverer of Reason.</p>
+
+<p>"Pshaw! David Levi! The mad hatter!" cried Grobstock. "He makes
+nothing at all out of his books."</p>
+
+<p>"You should subscribe for more copies," retorted Manasseh.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[50]</span></p>
+
+<p>"I would if you wrote them," rejoined Grobstock, with a grimace.</p>
+
+<p>"I got six copies of his <i>Lingua Sacra</i>," Manasseh declared with
+dignity, "and a dozen of his translation of the Pentateuch."</p>
+
+<p>"You can afford it!" snarled Grobstock, with grim humour. "I have to
+earn my money."</p>
+
+<p>"It is very good of Mr. da Costa, all the same," interposed the
+hostess. "How many men, born to great possessions, remain quite
+indifferent to learning!"</p>
+
+<p>"True, most true," said da Costa. "Men-of-the-Earth, most of them."</p>
+
+<p>After supper he trolled the Hebrew grace hilariously, assisted by
+Yankel&eacute;, and ere he left he said to the hostess, "May the Lord bless
+you with children!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," she answered, much moved.</p>
+
+<p>"You see I should be so pleased to marry your daughter if you had
+one."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very complimentary," she murmured, but her husband's
+exclamation drowned hers, "You marry my daughter!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who else moves among better circles&mdash;would be more easily able to
+find her a suitable match?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, in <i>that</i> sense," said Grobstock, mollified in one direction,
+irritated in another.</p>
+
+<p>"In what other sense? You do not think I, a Sephardi, would marry her
+myself!"</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter does not need your assistance," replied Grobstock
+shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet," admitted Manasseh, rising to go; "but when the time comes,
+where will you find a better marriage broker? I have had a finger in
+the marriage of greater men's daughters. You see, when I recommend a
+maiden<span class="pagenum">[51]</span> or a young man it is from no surface knowledge. I have seen
+them in the intimacy of their homes&mdash;above all I am able to say
+whether they are of a good, charitable disposition. Good Sabbath!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good Sabbath," murmured the host and hostess in farewell. Mrs.
+Grobstock thought he need not be above shaking hands, for all his
+grand acquaintances.</p>
+
+<p>"This way, Yankel&eacute;," said Manasseh, showing him to the door. "I am so
+glad you were able to come&mdash;you must come again."</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">SHOWING HOW HIS MAJESTY WENT TO THE THEATRE AND WAS WOOED.</p>
+
+<p>As Manasseh the Great, first beggar in Europe, sauntered across
+Goodman's Fields, attended by his Polish parasite, both serenely
+digesting the supper provided by the Treasurer of the Great Synagogue,
+Joseph Grobstock, a martial music clove suddenly the quiet evening
+air, and set the <i>Schnorrers'</i> pulses bounding. From the Tenterground
+emerged a squad of recruits, picturesque in white fatigue dress,
+against which the mounted officers showed gallant in blue surtouts and
+scarlet-striped trousers.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said da Costa, with swelling breast. "There go my soldiers!"</p>
+
+<div class="i015">
+
+<div id="i01501">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="i01502">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="cap015">
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;THERE GO MY SOLDIERS.&#39;&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Your soldiers!" ejaculated Yankel&eacute; in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;do you not see they are returning to the India House in
+Leadenhall Street?"</p>
+
+<p>"And vat of dat?" said Yankel&eacute;, shrugging his shoulders and spreading
+out his palms.</p>
+
+<p>"What of that? Surely you have not forgotten that the<span class="pagenum">[52]</span> clodpate at
+whose house I have just entertained you is a Director of the East
+India Company, whose soldiers these are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Yankel&eacute;, his mystified face relaxing in a smile. The smile
+fled before the stern look in the Spaniard's eyes; he hastened to
+conceal his amusement. Yankel&eacute; was by nature a droll, and it cost him
+a good deal to take his patron as seriously as that potentate took
+himself. Perhaps if Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa had had
+more humour he would have had less momentum. Your man of action is
+blind in<span class="pagenum">[53]</span> one eye. C&aelig;sar would not have come and conquered if he had
+really seen.</p>
+
+<p>Wounded by that temporary twinkle in his client's eye, the patron
+moved on silently, in step with the military air.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a beautiful night," observed Yankel&eacute; in contrition. The words
+had hardly passed his lips before he became conscious that he had
+spoken the truth. The moon was peeping from behind a white cloud, and
+the air was soft, and broken shadows of foliage lay across the path,
+and the music was a song of love and bravery. Somehow, Yankel&eacute; began
+to think of da Costa's lovely daughter. Her face floated in the
+moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh shrugged his shoulders, unappeased.</p>
+
+<p>"When one has supped well, it is always a beautiful night," he said
+testily. It was as if the cloud had overspread the moon, and a thick
+veil had fallen over the face of da Costa's lovely daughter. But
+Yankel&eacute; recovered himself quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes," he said, "you have indeed made it a beaudiful night for
+me."</p>
+
+<p>The King of <i>Schnorrers</i> waved his staff deprecatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"It is alvays a beaudiful night ven I am mid <i>you</i>," added Yankel&eacute;,
+undaunted.</p>
+
+<p>"It is strange," replied Manasseh musingly, "that I should have
+admitted to my hearth and Grobstock's table one who is, after all, but
+a half-brother in Israel."</p>
+
+<p>"But Grobstock is also a Tedesco," protested Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"That is also what I wonder at," rejoined da Costa. "I cannot make out
+how I have come to be so familiar with him."</p>
+
+</div> <!-- class="i015" -->
+
+<p>"You see!" ventured the Tedesco timidly. "P'raps ven Grobstock had
+really had a girl you might even have come to marry her."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[54]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Guard your tongue! A Sephardi cannot marry a Tedesco! It would be a
+degradation."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but de oder vay round. A Tedesco <i>can</i> marry a Sephardi, not so?
+Dat is a rise. If Grobstock's daughter had married you, she vould have
+married above her," he ended, with an ingenuous air.</p>
+
+<p>"True," admitted Manasseh. "But then, as Grobstock's daughter does not
+exist, and my wife does&mdash;!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but if you vas me," said Yankel&eacute;, "vould you rader marry a
+Tedesco or a Sephardi?"</p>
+
+<p>"A Sephardi, of course. But&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I vill be guided by you," interrupted the Pole hastily. "You be de
+visest man I have ever known."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;" Manasseh repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not deny it. You be! Instantly vill I seek out a Sephardi maiden
+and ved her. P'raps you crown your counsel by choosing von for me.
+Vat?"</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh was visibly mollified.</p>
+
+<p>"How do I know your taste?" he asked hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, any Spanish girl would be a prize," replied Yankel&eacute;. "Even ven
+she had a face like a Passover cake. But still I prefer a Pentecost
+blossom."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of beauty do you like best?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your daughter's style," plumply answered the Pole.</p>
+
+<p>"But there are not many like that," said da Costa unsuspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;she is like de Rose of Sharon. But den dere are not many handsome
+faders."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh bethought himself. "There is Gabriel, the corpse-watcher's
+daughter. People consider his figure and deportment good."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! Offal! She's ugly enough to keep de Messiah from coming. Vy,
+she's like cut out of de fader's face!<span class="pagenum">[55]</span> Besides, consider his
+occupation! You vould not advise dat I marry into such a low family!
+Be you not my benefactor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but I cannot think of any good-looking girl that would be
+suitable."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; looked at him with a roguish, insinuating smile. "Say not dat!
+Have you not told Grobstock you be de first of marriage-brokers?"</p>
+
+<p>But Manasseh shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you be quite right," said Yankel&eacute; humbly; "I could not get a
+really beaudiful girl unless I married your Deborah herself."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am afraid not," said Manasseh sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; took the plunge.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, vy can I not hope to call you fader-in-law?"</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh's face was contorted by a spasm of astonishment and
+indignation. He came to a standstill.</p>
+
+<p>"Dat must be a fine piece," said Yankel&eacute; quickly, indicating a
+flamboyant picture of a fearsome phantom hovering over a sombre moat.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i016.jpg" width="417" height="475" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;DAT MUST BE A FINE PIECE.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They had arrived at Leman Street, and had stopped before Goodman's
+Fields Theatre. Manasseh's brow cleared.</p>
+
+<p>"It is <i>The Castle Spectre</i>," he said graciously. "Would you like to
+see it?"</p>
+
+<p>"But it is half over&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no," said da Costa, scanning the play bill. "There was a farce by
+O'Keefe to start with. The night is yet young. The drama will be just
+beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is de Sabbath&mdash;ve must not pay."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh's brow clouded again in wrathful righteous surprise. "Did you
+think I was going to pay?" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"N-n-no," stammered the Pole, abashed. "But you haven't got no
+orders?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[56]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Orders? Me? Will you do me the pleasure of accepting a seat in my
+box?"</p>
+
+<p>"In your box?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there is plenty of room. Come this way," said Manasseh. "I
+haven't been to the play myself for over a year. I am too busy always.
+It will be an agreeable change."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[57]</span></p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; hung back, bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"Through this door," said Manasseh encouragingly. "Come&mdash;you shall
+lead the way."</p>
+
+<p>"But dey vill not admit me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Will not admit you! When I give you a seat in my box! Are you mad?
+Now you shall just go in without me&mdash;I insist upon it. I will show you
+Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa is a man whose word is the
+Law of Moses; true as the Talmud. Walk straight through the portico,
+and, if the attendant endeavours to stop you, simply tell him Mr. da
+Costa has given you a seat in his box."</p>
+
+<p>Not daring to exhibit scepticism&mdash;nay, almost confident in the powers
+of his extraordinary protector, Yankel&eacute; put his foot on the threshold
+of the lobby.</p>
+
+<p>"But you be coming, too?" he said, turning back.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I don't intend to miss the performance. Have no fear."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; walked boldly ahead, and brushed by the door-keeper of the
+little theatre without appearing conscious of him; indeed, the
+official was almost impressed into letting the <i>Schnorrer</i> pass
+unquestioned as one who had gone out between the acts. But the visitor
+was too dingy for anything but the stage-door&mdash;he had the air of those
+nondescript beings who hang mysteriously about the hinder recesses of
+playhouses. Recovering himself just in time, the functionary (a meek
+little Cockney) hailed the intruder with a backward-drawing "Hi!"</p>
+
+<p>"Vat you vant?" said Yankel&eacute;, turning his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Vhere's your ticket?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't vant no ticket."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you? I does," rejoined the little man, who was a humorist.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. da Costa has given me a seat in his box."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[58]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed! You'd swear to that in the box?"</p>
+
+<p>"By my head. He gave it me."</p>
+
+<p>"A seat in his box?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. da Costa, you vos a-sayin', I think?"</p>
+
+<p>"The same."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! this vay, then!"</p>
+
+<p>And the humorist pointed to the street.</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; did not budge.</p>
+
+<p>"This vay, my lud!" cried the little humorist peremptorily.</p>
+
+<p>"I tells you I'm going into Mr. da Costa's box!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I tells you you're a-goin' into the gutter." And the official
+seized him by the scruff of the neck and began pushing him forwards
+with his knee.</p>
+
+<p>"Now then! what's this?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i018.jpg" width="406" height="635" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;NOW THEN! WHAT&#39;S THIS?&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A stern, angry voice broke like a thunderclap upon the humorist's
+ears. He released his hold of the <i>Schnorrer</i> and looked up, to behold
+a strange, shabby, stalwart figure towering over him in censorious
+majesty.</p>
+
+<p>"Why are you hustling this poor man?" demanded Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"He wanted to sneak in," the little Cockney replied, half
+apologetically, half resentfully. "Expect 'e 'ails from Saffron 'Ill,
+and 'as 'is eye on the vipes. Told me some gammon&mdash;a cock-and-bull
+story about having a seat in a box."</p>
+
+<p>"In Mr. da Costa's box, I suppose?" said Manasseh, ominously calm,
+with a menacing glitter in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-es," said the humorist, astonished and vaguely alarmed. Then the
+storm burst.</p>
+
+<p>"You impertinent scoundrel! You jackanapes! You low, beggarly
+rapscallion! And so you refused to show my guest into my box!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[59]</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[60]</span></p><p>"Are you Mr. da Costa?" faltered the humorist.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, <i>I</i> am Mr. da Costa, but <i>you</i> won't much longer be door-keeper,
+if this is the way you treat people who come to see your pieces.
+Because, forsooth, the man looks poor, you think you can bully him
+safely&mdash;forgive me, Yankel&eacute;, I am so sorry I did not manage to come
+here before you, and spare you this insulting treatment! And as for
+you, my fine fellow, let me tell you that you make a great mistake in
+judging from appearances. There are some good friends of mine who
+could buy up your theatre and you and your miserable little soul at a
+moment's notice, and to look at them you would think they were
+cadgers. One of these days&mdash;hark you!&mdash;you will kick out a person of
+quality, and be kicked out yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I'm very sorry, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't say that to me. It is my guest you owe an apology to. Yes&mdash;and,
+by Heaven! you shall pay it, though he is no plutocrat, but only what
+he appears. Surely, because I wish to give a treat to a poor man who
+has, perhaps, never been to the play in his life, I am not bound to
+send him to the gallery&mdash;I can give him a corner in my box if I
+choose. There is no rule against that, I presume?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I can't say as there is," said the humorist humbly. "But you
+will allow, sir, it's rayther unusual."</p>
+
+<p>"Unusual! Of course, it's unusual. Kindness and consideration for the
+poor are always unusual. The poor are trodden upon at every
+opportunity, treated like dogs, not men. If I had invited a drunken
+fop, you'd have met him hat in hand (no, no, you needn't take it off
+to me now; it's too late). But a sober, poor man&mdash;by gad! I shall
+report your incivility to the management, and you'll be lucky if I
+don't thrash you with this stick into the bargain."</p>
+
+<p>"But 'ow vos I to know, sir?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[61]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Don't speak to me, I tell you. If you have anything to urge in
+extenuation of your disgraceful behaviour, address your remarks to my
+guest."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll overlook it this time, sir," said the little humorist, turning
+to Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Next time, p'raps, you believe me ven I say I have a seat in Mr. da
+Costa's box," replied Yankel&eacute;, in gentle reproach.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if <i>you're</i> satisfied, Yankel&eacute;," said Manasseh, with a touch of
+scorn, "I have no more to say. Go along, my man, show us to our box."</p>
+
+<p>The official bowed and led them into the corridor. Suddenly he turned
+back.</p>
+
+<p>"What box is it, please?" he said timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Blockhead!" cried Manasseh. "Which box should it be? The empty one,
+of course."</p>
+
+<p>"But, sir, there are two boxes empty," urged the poor humorist
+deprecatingly, "the stage-box and the one by the gallery."</p>
+
+<p>"Dolt! Do I look the sort of person who is content with a box on the
+ceiling? Go back to your post, sir&mdash;I'll find the box myself&mdash;Heaven
+send you wisdom&mdash;go back, some one might sneak in while you are away,
+and it would just serve you right."</p>
+
+<p>The little man slunk back half dazed, glad to escape from this
+overwhelming personality, and in a few seconds Manasseh stalked into
+the empty box, followed by Yankel&eacute;, whose mouth was a grin and whose
+eye a twinkle. As the Spaniard took his seat there was a slight
+outburst of clapping and stamping from a house impatient for the end
+of the <i>entr'acte</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh craned his head over the box to see the house, which in turn
+craned to see him, glad of any diversion, and some people, imagining
+the applause had reference to the<span class="pagenum">[62]</span> new-comer, whose head appeared to
+be that of a foreigner of distinction, joined in it. The contagion
+spread, and in a minute Manasseh was the cynosure of all eyes and the
+unmistakable recipient of an "ovation." He bowed twice or thrice in
+unruffled dignity.</p>
+
+<div class="i019">
+
+<div id="i01901">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="i01902">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="cap019">
+<p class="caption">&quot;HE BOWED.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There were some who recognised him, but they joined in the reception
+with wondering amusement. Not a few, indeed, of the audience were
+Jews, for Goodman's Fields was the Ghetto Theatre, and the Sabbath was
+not a sufficient deterrent to a lax generation. The audiences&mdash;mainly
+German and Poles&mdash;came to the little unfashionable<span class="pagenum">[63]</span> playhouse as one
+happy family. Distinctions of rank were trivial, and gallery held
+converse with circle, and pit collogued with box. Supper parties were
+held on the benches.</p>
+
+<p>In a box that gave on the pit a portly Jewess sat stiffly, arrayed in
+the very pink of fashion, in a spangled robe of India muslin, with a
+diamond necklace and crescent, her head crowned by terraces of curls
+and flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"Betsy!" called up a jovial feminine voice from the pit, when the
+applause had subsided.</p>
+
+<p>"Betsy" did not move, but her cheeks grew hot and red. She had got on
+in the world, and did not care to recognise her old crony.</p>
+
+<p>"Betsy!" iterated the well-meaning woman. "By your life and mine, you
+must taste a piece of my fried fish." And she held up a slice of cold
+plaice, beautifully browned.</p>
+
+<p>Betsy drew back, striving unsuccessfully to look unconscious. To her
+relief the curtain rose, and <i>The Castle Spectre</i> walked. Yankel&eacute;, who
+had scarcely seen anything but private theatricals, representing the
+discomfiture of the wicked Haman and the triumph of Queen Esther (a
+<i>r&ocirc;le</i> he had once played himself, in his mother's old clothes), was
+delighted with the thrills and terrors of the ghostly melodrama. It
+was not till the conclusion of the second act that the emotion the
+beautiful but injured heroine cost him welled over again into
+matrimonial speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Ve vind up de night glorious," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you like it. It is certainly an enjoyable performance,"
+Manasseh answered with stately satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Your daughter, Deborah," Yankel&eacute; ventured timidly, "do she ever go to
+de play?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I do not take my womankind about. Their duty lies at home. As it
+is written, I call my wife not 'wife' but 'home.'"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[64]</span></p>
+
+<p>"But dink how dey vould enjoy deirselves!"</p>
+
+<p>"We are not sent here to enjoy ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>"True&mdash;most true," said Yankel&eacute;, pulling a smug face. "Ve be sent here
+to obey de Law of Moses. But do not remind me I be a sinner in
+Israel."</p>
+
+</div> <!-- class="i019" -->
+
+<p>"How so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am twenty-five&mdash;yet I have no vife."</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay you had plenty in Poland."</p>
+
+<p>"By my soul, not. Only von, and her I gave <i>gett</i> (divorce) for
+barrenness. You can write to de Rabbi of my town."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I write? It's not my affair."</p>
+
+<p>"But I vant it to be your affair."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh glared. "Do you begin that again?" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not so much dat I desire your daughter for a vife as you for a
+fader-in-law."</p>
+
+<p>"It cannot be!" said Manasseh more gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dat I had been born a Sephardi!" said Yankel&eacute; with a hopeless
+groan.</p>
+
+<p>"It is too late now," said da Costa soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Dey say it's never too late to mend," moaned the Pole. "Is dere no
+vay for me to be converted to Spanish Judaism? I could easily
+pronounce Hebrew in your superior vay."</p>
+
+<p>"Our Judaism differs in no essential respect from yours&mdash;it is a
+question of blood. You cannot change your blood. As it is said, 'And
+the blood is the life.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I know, I know dat I aspire too high. Oh, vy did you become my
+friend, vy did you make me believe you cared for me&mdash;so dat I tink of
+you day and night&mdash;and now, ven I ask you to be my fader-in-law, you
+say it cannot be. It is like a knife in de heart! Tink how proud and
+happy I should be to call you my fader-in-law. All my life vould be<span class="pagenum">[65]</span>
+devoted to you&mdash;my von thought to be vordy of such a man."</p>
+
+<p>"You are not the first I have been compelled to refuse," said
+Manasseh, with emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Vat helps me dat dere be other <i>Schlemihls</i> (unlucky persons)?"
+quoted Yankel&eacute;, with a sob. "How can I live midout you for a
+fader-in-law?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry for you&mdash;more sorry than I have ever been."</p>
+
+<p>"Den you do care for me! I vill not give up hope. I vill not take no
+for no answer. Vat is dis blood dat it should divide Jew from Jew, dat
+it should prevent me becoming de son-in-law of de only man I have ever
+loved? Say not so. Let me ask you again&mdash;in a month or a year&mdash;even
+twelve months vould I vait, ven you vould only promise not to pledge
+yourself to anoder man."</p>
+
+<p>"But if I became your father-in-law&mdash;mind, I only say if&mdash;not only
+would I not keep you, but you would have to keep my Deborah."</p>
+
+<p>"And supposing?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you are not able to keep a wife!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not able? Who told you dat?" cried Yankel&eacute; indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You yourself! Why, when I first befriended you, you told me you were
+blood-poor."</p>
+
+<p>"Dat I told you as a <i>Schnorrer</i>. But now I speak to you as a suitor."</p>
+
+<p>"True," admitted Manasseh, instantly appreciating the distinction.</p>
+
+<p>"And as a suitor I tell you I can <i>schnorr</i> enough to keep two vives."</p>
+
+<p>"But do you tell this to da Costa the father or da Costa the
+marriage-broker?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[66]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" from all parts of the house as the curtain went up and the
+house settled down. But Yankel&eacute; was no longer in <i>rapport</i> with the
+play; the spectre had ceased to thrill and the heroine to touch. His
+mind was busy with feverish calculations of income, scraping together
+every penny he could raise by hook or crook. He even drew out a
+crumpled piece of paper and a pencil, but thrust them back into his
+pocket when he saw Manasseh's eye.</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot," he murmured apologetically. "Being at de play made me
+forget it was de Sabbath." And he pursued his calculations mentally;
+this being naturally less work.</p>
+
+<p>When the play was over the two beggars walked out into the cool night
+air.</p>
+
+<p>"I find," Yankel&eacute; began eagerly in the vestibule, "I make at least von
+hundred and fifty pounds"&mdash;he paused to acknowledge the farewell
+salutation of the little door-keeper at his elbow&mdash;"a hundred and
+fifty a year."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" said Manasseh, in respectful astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! I have reckoned it all up. Ten are de sources of charity&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"As it is written," interrupted Manasseh with unction, "'With ten
+sayings was the world created; there were ten generations from Noah to
+Abraham; with ten trials our father Abraham was tried; ten miracles
+were wrought for our fathers in Egypt and ten at the Red Sea; and ten
+things were created on the eve of the Sabbath in the twilight!' And
+now it shall be added, 'Ten good deeds the poor man affords the rich
+man.' Proceed, Yankel&eacute;."</p>
+
+<p>"First comes my allowance from de Synagogue&mdash;eight pounds. Vonce a
+veek I call and receive half-a-crown."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all? Our Synagogue allows three-and-six."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" sighed the Pole wistfully. "Did I not say you be a superior
+race?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[67]</span></p>
+
+<p>"But that only makes six pound ten!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know&mdash;de oder tirty shillings I allow for Passover cakes and
+groceries. Den for Synagogue-knocking I get ten guin&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop! stop!" cried Manasseh, with a sudden scruple. "Ought I to
+listen to financial details on the Sabbath?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, ven dey be connected vid my marriage&mdash;vich is a
+Commandment. It is de Law ve really discuss."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right. Go on, then. But remember, even if you can prove you
+can <i>schnorr</i> enough to keep a wife, I do not bind myself to consent."</p>
+
+<p>"You be already a fader to me&mdash;vy vill you not be a fader-in-law?
+Anyhow, you vill find me a fader-in-law," he added hastily, seeing the
+blackness gathering again on da Costa's brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay, we must not talk of business on the Sabbath," said Manasseh
+evasively. "Proceed with your statement of income."</p>
+
+<p>"Ten guineas for Synagogue-knocking. I have tventy clients who&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop a minute! I cannot pass that item."</p>
+
+<p>"Vy not? It is true."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe! But Synagogue-knocking is distinctly <i>work</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Vork?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if going round early in the morning to knock at the doors of
+twenty pious persons, and rouse them for morning service, isn't work,
+then the Christian bell-ringer is a beggar. No, no! Profits from this
+source I cannot regard as legitimate."</p>
+
+<p>"But most <i>Schnorrers</i> be Synagogue-knockers!"</p>
+
+<p>"Most <i>Schnorrers</i> are Congregation-men or Psalms-men," retorted the
+Spaniard witheringly. "But I call it debasing. What! To assist at the
+services for a fee! To worship<span class="pagenum">[68]</span> one's Maker for hire! Under such
+conditions to pray is to work." His breast swelled with majesty and
+scorn.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot call it vork," protested the <i>Schnorrer</i>. "Vy at dat rate
+you vould make out dat de minister vorks? or de preacher? Vy, I reckon
+fourteen pounds a year to my services as Congregation-man."</p>
+
+<p>"Fourteen pounds! As much as that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you see dere's my private customers as vell as de Synagogue. Ven
+dere is mourning in a house dey cannot alvays get together ten friends
+for de services, so I make von. How can you call that vork? It is
+friendship. And the more dey pay me de more friendship I feel,"
+asserted Yankel&eacute; with a twinkle. "Den de Synagogue allows me a little
+extra for announcing de dead."</p>
+
+<p>In those primitive times, when a Jewish newspaper was undreamt of, the
+day's obituary was published by a peripatetic <i>Schnorrer</i>, who went
+about the Ghetto rattling a pyx&mdash;a copper money-box with a handle and
+a lid closed by a padlock. On hearing this death-rattle, anyone who
+felt curious would ask the <i>Schnorrer</i>:</p>
+
+<p>"Who's dead to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"So-and-so ben So-and-so&mdash;funeral on such a day&mdash;mourning service at
+such an hour," the <i>Schnorrer</i> would reply, and the enquirer would
+piously put something into the "byx," as it was called. The collection
+was handed over to the Holy Society&mdash;in other words, the Burial
+Society.</p>
+
+<p>"P'raps you call that vork?" concluded Yankel&eacute;, in timid challenge.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I do. What do you call it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Valking exercise. It keeps me healty. Vonce von of my customers (from
+whom I <i>schnorred</i> half-a-crown a veek) said he was tired of my coming
+and getting it every Friday.<span class="pagenum">[69]</span> He vanted to compound mid me for six
+pound a year, but I vouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"But it was a very fair offer. He only deducted ten shillings for the
+interest on his money."</p>
+
+<p>"Dat I didn't mind. But I vanted a pound more for his depriving me of
+my valking exercise, and dat he vouldn't pay, so he still goes on
+giving me de half-crown a veek. Some of dese charitable persons are
+terribly mean. But vat I vant to say is dat I carry de byx mostly in
+the streets vere my customers lay, and it gives me more standing as a
+<i>Schnorrer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, that is a delusion. What! Are you weak-minded enough to
+believe that? All the philanthropists say so, of course, but surely
+you know that <i>schnorring</i> and work should never be mixed. A man
+cannot do two things properly. He must choose his profession, and
+stick to it. A friend of mine once succumbed to the advice of the
+philanthropists instead of asking mine. He had one of the best
+provincial rounds in the kingdom, but in every town he weakly listened
+to the lectures of the president of the congregation inculcating work,
+and at last he actually invested the savings of years in jewellery,
+and went round trying to peddle it. The presidents all bought
+something to encourage him (though they beat down the price so that
+there was no profit in it), and they all expressed their pleasure at
+his working for his living, and showing a manly independence. 'But I
+<i>schnorr</i> also,' he reminded them, holding out his hand when they had
+finished. It was in vain. No one gave him a farthing. He had blundered
+beyond redemption. At one blow he had destroyed one of the most
+profitable connections a <i>Schnorrer</i> ever had, and without even
+getting anything for the goodwill. So if you will be guided by me,
+Yankel&eacute;, you will do nothing to assist the<span class="pagenum">[70]</span> philanthropists to keep
+you. It destroys their satisfaction. A <i>Schnorrer</i> cannot be too
+careful. And once you begin to work, where are you to draw the line?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you be a marriage-broker yourself," said Yankel&eacute; imprudently.</p>
+
+<p>"That!" thundered Manasseh angrily, "That is not work! That is
+pleasure!"</p>
+
+<p>"Vy look! Dere is Hennery Simons," cried Yankel&eacute;, hoping to divert his
+attention. But he only made matters worse.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Simons was a character variously known as the Tumbling Jew,
+Harry the Dancer, and the Juggling Jew. He was afterwards to become
+famous as the hero of a slander case which deluged England with
+pamphlets for and against, but for the present he had merely outraged
+the feelings of his fellow <i>Schnorrers</i> by budding out in a direction
+so rare as to suggest preliminary baptism. He stood now playing antic
+and sleight-of-hand tricks&mdash;surrounded by a crowd&mdash;a curious figure
+crowned by a velvet skull-cap from which wisps of hair protruded, with
+a scarlet handkerchief thrust through his girdle. His face was an
+olive oval, bordered by ragged tufts of beard and stamped with
+melancholy.</p>
+
+<p>"You see the results of working," cried Manasseh. "It brings
+temptation to work on Sabbath. That Epicurean there is profaning the
+Holy Day. Come away! A <i>Schnorrer</i> is far more certain of
+The-World-To-Come. No, decidedly, I will not give my daughter to a
+worker, or to a <i>Schnorrer</i> who makes illegitimate profits."</p>
+
+<p>"But I <i>make</i> de profits all de same," persisted Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"You make them to-day&mdash;but to-morrow? There is no certainty about
+them. Work of whatever kind is by its very nature unreliable. At any
+moment trade may be slack.<span class="pagenum">[71]</span> People may become less pious, and you lose
+your Synagogue-knocking. Or more pious&mdash;and they won't want
+congregation-men."</p>
+
+<p>"But new Synagogues spring up," urged Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"New Synagogues are full of enthusiasm," retorted Manasseh. "The
+members are their own congregation-men."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; had his roguish twinkle. "At first," he admitted, "but de
+<i>Schnorrer</i> vaits his time."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh shook his head. "<i>Schnorring</i> is the only occupation that is
+regular all the year round," he said. "Everything else may fail&mdash;the
+greatest commercial houses may totter to the ground; as it is written,
+'He humbleth the proud.' But the <i>Schnorrer</i> is always secure. Whoever
+falls, there are always enough left to look after <i>him</i>. If you were a
+father, Yankel&eacute;, you would understand my feelings. How can a man allow
+his daughter's future happiness to repose on a basis so uncertain as
+work? No, no. What do you make by your district visiting? Everything
+turns on that."</p>
+
+<p>"Tventy-five shilling a veek!"</p>
+
+<p>"Really?"</p>
+
+<p>"Law of Moses! In sixpences, shillings, and half-crowns. Vy in
+Houndsditch alone, I have two streets all except a few houses."</p>
+
+<p>"But are they safe? Population shifts. Good streets go down."</p>
+
+<p>"Dat tventy-five shillings is as safe as Mocatta's business. I have it
+all written down at home&mdash;you can inspect de books if you choose."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Manasseh, with a grand wave of his stick. "If I did not
+believe you, I should not entertain your proposal for a moment. It
+rejoices me exceedingly to find you<span class="pagenum">[72]</span> have devoted so much attention to
+this branch. I always held strongly that the rich should be visited in
+their own homes, and I grieve to see this personal touch, this contact
+with the very people to whom you give the good deeds, being replaced
+by lifeless circulars. One owes it to one's position in life to afford
+the wealthy classes the opportunity of charity warm from the heart;
+they should not be neglected and driven in their turn to write cheques
+in cold blood, losing all that human sympathy which comes from
+personal intercourse&mdash;as it is written, 'Charity delivers from death.'
+But do you think charity that is given publicly through a secretary
+and advertised in annual reports has so great a redeeming power as
+that slipped privately into the hands of the poor man, who makes a
+point of keeping secret from every donor what he has received from the
+others?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you don't call collecting de money vork," said Yankel&eacute;,
+with a touch of sarcasm which was lost on da Costa.</p>
+
+<p>"No, so long as the donor can't show any 'value received' in return.
+And there's more friendship in <i>such</i> a call, Yankel&eacute;, than in going
+to a house of mourning to pray for a fee."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Yankel&eacute;, wincing. "Den p'raps you strike out all my
+Year-Time item!"</p>
+
+<p>"Year-Time! What's that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you know?" said the Pole, astonished. "Ven a man has Year-Time,
+he feels charitable for de day."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean when he commemorates the anniversary of the death of one
+of his family? We Sephardim call that 'making years'! But are there
+enough Year-Times, as you call them, in your Synagogue?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dere might be more&mdash;I only make about fifteen<span class="pagenum">[73]</span> pounds. Our colony is,
+as you say, too new. De Globe Road Cemetery is as empty as a Synagogue
+on veek-days. De faders have left <i>deir</i> faders on de Continent, and
+kept many Year-Times out of de country. But in a few years many faders
+and moders must die off here, and every parent leaves two or tree sons
+to have Year-Times, and every child two or tree broders and a fader.
+Den every day more German Jews come here&mdash;vich means more and more to
+die. I tink indeed it vould be fair to double this item."</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; stick to facts. It is an iniquity to speculate in the
+misfortunes of our fellow-creatures."</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody must die dat I may live," retorted Yankel&eacute; roguishly; "de
+vorld is so created. Did you not quote, 'Charity delivers from death'?
+If people lived for ever, <i>Schnorrers</i> could not live at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! The world could not exist without <i>Schnorrers</i>. As it is
+written, 'And Repentance and <i>Prayer</i> and <span class="smcap">Charity</span> avert the evil
+decree.' Charity is put last&mdash;it is the climax&mdash;the greatest thing on
+earth. And the <i>Schnorrer</i> is the greatest man on earth; for it stands
+in the Talmud, 'He who causes is greater than he who does.' Therefore,
+the <i>Schnorrer</i> who causes charity is even greater than he who gives
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Talk of de devil," said Yankel&eacute;, who had much difficulty in keeping
+his countenance when Manasseh became magnificent and dithyrambic. "Vy,
+dere is Greenbaum, whose fader vas buried yesterday. Let us cross over
+by accident and vish him long life."</p>
+
+<p>"Greenbaum dead! Was that the Greenbaum on 'Change, who was such a
+rascal with the wenches?"</p>
+
+<p>"De same," said Yankel&eacute;. Then approaching the son, he cried, "Good
+Sabbath, Mr. Greenbaum; I vish you long life. Vat a blow for de
+community!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[74]</span></p>
+
+<p>"It comforts me to hear you say so," said the son, with a sob in his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes!" said Yankel&eacute; chokingly. "Your fader vas a great and good
+man&mdash;just my size."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i020.jpg" width="331" height="374" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;YOUR FADER VAS A GREAT AND GOOD MAN&mdash;JUST MY SIZE.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"I've already given them away to Baruch the glazier," replied the
+mourner.</p>
+
+<p>"But he has his glaziering," remonstrated Yankel&eacute;. "I have noting but
+de clothes I stand in, and dey don't fit me half so vell as your
+fader's vould have done."</p>
+
+<p>"Baruch has been very unfortunate," replied Greenbaum<span class="pagenum">[75]</span> defensively.
+"He had a misfortune in the winter, and he has never got straight yet.
+A child of his died, and, unhappily, just when the snowballing was at
+its height, so that he lost seven days by the mourning." And he moved
+away.</p>
+
+<p>"Did I not say work was uncertain?" cried Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"Not all," maintained the <i>Schnorrer</i>. "What of de six guineas I make
+by carrying round de Palm-branch on Tabernacles to be shaken by de
+voomans who cannot attend Synagogue, and by blowing de trumpet for de
+same voomans on New Year, so dat dey may break deir fasts?"</p>
+
+<p>"The amount is too small to deserve discussion. Pass on."</p>
+
+<p>"Dere is a smaller amount&mdash;just half dat&mdash;I get from de presents to de
+poor at de Feast of Lots, and from de Bridegrooms of de Beginning and
+de Bridegrooms of de Law at de Rejoicing of de Law, and dere is about
+four pounds ten a year from de sale of clothes given to me. Den I have
+a lot o' meals given me&mdash;dis, I have reckoned, is as good as seven
+pounds. And, lastly, I cannot count de odds and ends under ten
+guineas. You know dere are alvays legacies, gifts, distributions&mdash;all
+unexpected. You never know who'll break out next."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think it's not too high a percentage of your income to expect
+from unexpected sources," admitted Manasseh. "I have myself lingered
+about 'Change Alley or Sampson's Coffee House just when the jobbers
+have pulled off a special coup, and they have paid me quite a high
+percentage on their profits."</p>
+
+<p>"And I," boasted Yankel&eacute;, stung to noble emulation, "have made two
+sov'rans in von minute out of Gideon de bullion-broker. He likes to
+give <i>Schnorrers</i> sov'rans, as if in mistake for shillings, to see vat
+dey'll do. De fools<span class="pagenum">[76]</span> hurry off, or move slowly avay, as if not
+noticing, or put it quickly in de pocket. But dose who have visdom
+tell him he's made a mistake, and he gives dem anoder sov'ran. Honesty
+is de best policy with Gideon. Den dere is Rabbi de Falk, de Baal
+Shem&mdash;de great Cabbalist. Ven&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But," interrupted Manasseh impatiently, "you haven't made out your
+hundred and fifty a year."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute;'s face fell. "Not if you cut out so many items."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but even all inclusive it only comes to a hundred and forty-three
+pounds nineteen shillings."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" said Yankel&eacute;, staggered. "How can you know so exact?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I cannot do simple addition?" responded Manasseh
+sternly. "Are not these your ten items?"</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="cash reconcile">
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr">&pound;</td>
+    <td class="tdr">s.</td>
+    <td class="tdr">d.</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">1.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">Synagogue Pension, with Passover extras</td>
+    <td class="tdr">8</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">2.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">Synagogue-knocking</td>
+    <td class="tdr">10</td>
+    <td class="tdr">10</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">3.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">District Visiting</td>
+    <td class="tdr">65</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">4.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">As Congregation-man and Pyx-bearer</td>
+    <td class="tdr">14</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">5.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">Year-Times</td>
+    <td class="tdr">15</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">6.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">Palm-branch and Trumpet Fees</td>
+    <td class="tdr">6</td>
+    <td class="tdr">6</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">7.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">Purim-presents, &amp;c.</td>
+    <td class="tdr">3</td>
+    <td class="tdr">3</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">8.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">Sale of Clothes</td>
+    <td class="tdr">4</td>
+    <td class="tdr">10</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">9.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">Equivalent of Free Meals</td>
+    <td class="tdr">7</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">10.</td>
+    <td class="tdl">Miscellanea, the unexpected</td>
+    <td class="tdr">10</td>
+    <td class="tdr">10</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr" colspan="3">___________</td></tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>
+    <td class="tdr">Total</td>
+    <td class="tdr">&pound;143</td>
+    <td class="tdr">19</td>
+    <td class="tdr">0</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"A child could sum it up," concluded Manasseh severely. Yankel&eacute; was
+subdued to genuine respect and consternation by da Costa's marvellous
+memory and arithmetical genius. But he rallied immediately. "Of
+course, I also reckoned on a dowry mid my bride, if only a hundred
+pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, invested in Consols, that would not bring you four pounds
+more," replied Manasseh instantly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[77]</span></p>
+
+<p>"The rest vill be made up in extra free meals," Yankel&eacute; answered no
+less quickly. "For ven I take your daughter off your hands you vill be
+able to afford to invite me more often to your table dan you do now."</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," retorted Manasseh, "for now that I know how well off you
+are I shall no longer feel I am doing a charity."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you vill," said Yankel&eacute; insinuatingly. "You are too much a
+man of honour to know as a private philantropist vat I have told de
+marriage-broker, de fader-in-law and de fellow <i>Schnorrer</i>. Besides, I
+vould have de free meals from you as de son-in-law, not de
+<i>Schnorrer</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"In that relation I should also have free meals from you," rejoined
+Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"I never dared to tink you vould do me de honour. But even so I can
+never give you such good meals as you give me. So dere is still a
+balance in my favour."</p>
+
+<p>"That is true," said da Costa thoughtfully. "But you have still about
+a guinea to make up."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; was driven into a corner at last. But he flashed<span class="pagenum">[78]</span> back,
+without perceptible pause, "You do not allow for vat I save by my
+piety. I fast twenty times a year, and surely dat is at least anoder
+guinea per annum."</p>
+
+<p>"But you will have children," retorted da Costa.</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Dat is de affair of de Holy One, blessed be He. Ven He sends dem He
+vill provide for dem. You must not forget, too, dat mid <i>your</i>
+daughter de dowry vould be noting so small as a hundred pounds."</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter will have a dowry befitting her station, certainly," said
+Manasseh, with his grandest manner; "but then I had looked forward to
+her marrying a king of <i>Schnorrers</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Vell, but ven I marry her I shall be."</p>
+
+<p>"How so?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall have <i>schnorred</i> your daughter&mdash;the most precious thing in
+the world! And <i>schnorred</i> her from a king of <i>Schnorrers</i>, too!! And
+I shall have <i>schnorred</i> your services as marriage-broker into de
+bargain!!!"</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">SHOWING HOW THE ROYAL WEDDING WAS ARRANGED.</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa was so impressed by his
+would-be son-in-law's last argument that he perpended it in silence
+for a full minute. When he replied, his tone showed even more respect
+than had been infused into it by the statement of the aspirant's
+income. Manasseh was not of those to whom money is a fetish; he
+regarded it merely as something to be had for the asking. It was
+intellect for which he reserved his admiration. That was strictly not
+transferable.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[79]</span></p>
+
+<p>"It is true," he said, "that if I yielded to your importunities and
+gave you my daughter, you would thereby have approved yourself a king
+of <i>Schnorrers</i>, of a rank suitable to my daughter's, but an analysis
+of your argument will show that you are begging the question."</p>
+
+<p>"Vat more proof do you vant of my begging powers?" demanded Yankel&eacute;,
+spreading out his palms and shrugging his shoulders.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i022.jpg" width="297" height="351" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;VAT MORE PROOF DO YOU VANT?&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Much greater proof," replied Manasseh. "I ought to have some instance
+of your powers. The only time I have seen you try to <i>schnorr</i> you
+failed."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[80]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Me! ven?" exclaimed Yankel&eacute; indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, this very night. When you asked young Weinstein for his dead
+father's clothes!"</p>
+
+<p>"But he had already given them away!" protested the Pole.</p>
+
+<p>"What of that? If anyone had given away <i>my</i> clothes, I should have
+demanded compensation. You must really be above rebuffs of that kind,
+Yankel&eacute;, if you are to be my son-in-law. No, no, I remember the dictum
+of the Sages: 'To give your daughter to an uncultured man is like
+throwing her bound to a lion.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But you have also seen me <i>schnorr</i> mid success," remonstrated the
+suitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" protested Manasseh vehemently.</p>
+
+<p>"Often!"</p>
+
+<p>"From whom?"</p>
+
+<p>"From you!" said Yankel&eacute; boldly.</p>
+
+<p>"From <i>me</i>!" sneered Manasseh, accentuating the pronoun with infinite
+contempt. "What does that prove? I am a generous man. The test is to
+<i>schnorr</i> from a miser."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>vill schnorr</i> from a miser!" announced Yankel&eacute; desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"You will!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Choose your miser."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I leave it to you," said da Costa politely.</p>
+
+<p>"Vell, Sam Lazarus, de butcher shop!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not Sam Lazarus, he once gave a <i>Schnorrer</i> I know elevenpence."</p>
+
+<p>"Elevenpence?" incredulously murmured Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was the only way he could pass a shilling. It wasn't bad,
+only cracked, but he could get no one to take it except a <i>Schnorrer</i>.
+He made the man give him a penny change though. 'Tis true the man
+afterwards laid<span class="pagenum">[81]</span> out the shilling at Lazarus's shop. Still a really
+great miser would have added that cracked shilling to his hoard rather
+than the perfect penny."</p>
+
+<p>"No," argued Yankel&eacute;, "dere vould be no difference, since he does not
+spend."</p>
+
+<p>"True," said da Costa reflectively, "but by that same token a miser is
+not the most difficult person to tackle."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you make dat out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it not obvious? Already we see Lazarus giving away elevenpence. A
+miser who spends nothing on himself may, in exceptional cases, be
+induced to give away something. It is the man who indulges himself in
+every luxury and gives away nothing who is the hardest to <i>schnorr</i>
+from. He has a <i>use</i> for his money&mdash;himself! If you diminish his store
+you hurt him in the tenderest part&mdash;you rob him of creature comforts.
+To <i>schnorr</i> from such a one I should regard as a higher and nobler
+thing than to <i>schnorr</i> from a mere miser."</p>
+
+<p>"Vell, name your man."</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I couldn't think of taking it out of your hands," said Manasseh
+again with his stately bow. "Whomever you select I will abide by. If I
+could not rely on your honour, would I dream of you as a son-in-law?"</p>
+
+<p>"Den I vill go to Mendel Jacobs, of Mary Axe."</p>
+
+<p>"Mendel Jacobs&mdash;oh, no! Why, he's married! A married man cannot be
+entirely devoted to himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Vy not? Is not a vife a creature comfort? P'raps also she comes
+cheaper dan a housekeeper."</p>
+
+<p>"We will not argue it. I will not have Mendel Jacobs."</p>
+
+<p>"Simon Kelutski, de vine-merchant."</p>
+
+<p>"He! He is quite generous with his snuff-box. I have myself been
+offered a pinch. Of course I did not accept it."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; selected several other names, but Manasseh<span class="pagenum">[82]</span> barred them all,
+and at last had an inspiration of his own.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't there a Rabbi in your community whose stinginess is proverbial?
+Let me see, what's his name?"</p>
+
+<p>"A Rabbi!" murmured Yankel&eacute; disingenuously, while his heart began to
+palpitate with alarm.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, isn't there&mdash;Rabbi Bloater!"</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; shook his head. Ruin stared him in the face&mdash;his fondest hopes
+were crumbling.</p>
+
+<p>"I know it's some fishy name&mdash;Rabbi Haddock&mdash;no it isn't. It's Rabbi
+Remorse something."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; saw it was all over with him.</p>
+
+<p>"P'raps you mean Rabbi Remorse Red-herring," he said feebly, for his
+voice failed him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes! Rabbi Remorse Red-herring," said Manasseh. "From all I
+hear&mdash;for I have never seen the man&mdash;a king of guzzlers and topers,
+and the meanest of mankind. Now if you could dine with <i>him</i> you might
+indeed be called a king of <i>Schnorrers</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; was pale and trembling. "But <i>he</i> is married!" he urged, with
+a happy thought.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i021.jpg" width="270" height="360" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;THE TREMBLING JEW.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Dine with him to-morrow," said Manasseh inexorably. "He fares extra
+royally on the Sabbath. Obtain admission to his table, and you shall
+be admitted into my family."</p>
+
+<p>"But you do not know the man&mdash;it is impossible!" cried Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"That is the excuse of the bad <i>Schnorrer</i>. You have heard my
+ultimatum. No dinner, no wife. No wife&mdash;no dowry!"</p>
+
+<p>"Vat vould dis dowry be?" asked Yankel&eacute;, by way of diversion.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, unique&mdash;quite unique. First of all there would be all the money
+she gets from the Synagogue. Our Synagogue<span class="pagenum">[83]</span> gives considerable dowries
+to portionless girls. There are large bequests for the purpose."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute;'s eyes glittered.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, vat gentlemen you Spaniards be!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I daresay I should hand over to my son-in-law all my Jerusalem
+land."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you property in de Holy Land?" said Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"First class, with an unquestionable title. And, of course, I would
+give you some province or other in this country."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" gasped Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Could I do less?" said Manasseh blandly. "My own flesh and blood,
+remember! Ah, here is my door. It is too late to ask you in. Good
+Sabbath! Don't forget your appointment to dine with Rabbi Remorse
+Red-herring to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Good Sabbath!" faltered Yankel&eacute;, and crawled home heavy-hearted to
+Dinah's Buildings, Tripe Yard, Whitechapel, where the memory of him
+lingers even unto this day.</p>
+
+<p>Rabbi Remorse Red-herring was an unofficial preacher who officiated at
+mourning services in private houses, having a gift of well-turned
+eulogy. He was a big, burly man with overlapping stomach and a red
+beard, and his spiritual consolations drew tears. His clients knew him
+to be vastly self-indulgent in private life, and abstemious in the
+matter of benevolence; but they did not confound the <i>r&ocirc;les</i>. As a
+mourning preacher he gave every satisfaction: he was regular and
+punctual, and did not keep the congregation waiting, and he had had
+considerable experience in showing that there was yet balm in Gilead.</p>
+
+<p>He had about five ways of showing it&mdash;the variants depending upon the
+circumstances. If, as not infrequently happened, the person deceased
+was a stranger to him, he<span class="pagenum">[84]</span> would enquire in the passage: "Was it man
+or woman? Boy or girl? Married or single? Any children? Young 'uns or
+old 'uns?"</p>
+
+<p>When these questions had been answered, he was ready. He knew exactly
+which of his five consolatory addresses to deliver&mdash;they were all
+sufficiently vague and general to cover considerable variety of
+circumstance, and even when he misheard the replies in the passage,
+and dilated on the grief of a departed widower's relict, the results
+were not fatal throughout. The few impossible passages might be
+explained by the mishearing of the audience. Sometimes&mdash;very
+rarely&mdash;he would venture on a supplementary sentence or two fitting
+the specific occasion, but very cautiously, for a man with a
+reputation for extempore addresses cannot be too wary of speaking on
+the spur of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>Off obituary lines he was a failure; at any rate, his one attempt to
+preach from an English Synagogue pulpit resulted in a nickname. His
+theme was Remorse, which he explained with much care to the
+congregation.</p>
+
+<p>"For instance," said the preacher, "the other day I was walking over
+London Bridge, when I saw a fishwife standing with a basket of
+red-herrings. I says, 'How much?' She says, 'Two for three-halfpence.'
+I says, 'Oh, that's frightfully dear! I can easily get three for
+twopence.' But she wouldn't part with them at that price, so I went
+on, thinking I'd meet another woman with a similar lot over the water.
+They were lovely fat herrings, and my chaps watered in anticipation of
+the treat of eating them. But when I got to the other end of the
+bridge there was no other fishwife to be seen. So I resolved to turn
+back to the first fishwife, for, after all, I reflected, the herrings
+were really very cheap, and I had only complained in the way of
+business. But when I got back the woman was just sold out. I could<span class="pagenum">[85]</span>
+have torn my hair with vexation. Now, that's what I call Remorse."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i023.jpg" width="343" height="346" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;I COULD HAVE TORN MY HAIR.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>After that the Rabbi was what the congregation called Remorse; also
+Red-herring.</p>
+
+<p>The Rabbi's fondness for concrete exemplification of abstract ideas
+was not, however, to be stifled, and there was one illustration of
+Charity which found a place in all the five sermons of consolation.</p>
+
+<p>"If you have a pair of old breeches, send them to the Rabbi."</p>
+
+<p>Rabbi Remorse Red-herring was, however, as is the way of preachers,
+himself aught but a concrete exemplification<span class="pagenum">[86]</span> of the virtues he
+inculcated. He lived generously&mdash;through other people's
+generosity&mdash;but no one could boast of having received a farthing from
+him over and above what was due to them; while <i>Schnorrers</i> (who
+deemed considerable sums due to them) regarded him in the light of a
+defalcating bankrupt. He, for his part, had a countervailing grudge
+against the world, fancying the work he did for it but feebly
+remunerated. "I get so little," ran his bitter plaint, "that I
+couldn't live, <i>if it were not for the fasts</i>." And, indeed, the fasts
+of the religion were worth much more to him than to Yankel&eacute;; his meals
+were so profuse that his savings from this source were quite a little
+revenue. As Yankel&eacute; had pointed out, he was married. And his wife had
+given him a child, but it died at the age of seven, bequeathing to him
+the only poignant sorrow of his life. He was too jealous to call in a
+rival consolation preacher during those dark days, and none of his own
+five sermons seemed to fit the case. It was some months before he took
+his meals regularly.</p>
+
+<p>At no time had anyone else taken meals in his house, except by law
+entitled. Though she had only two to cook for, his wife habitually
+provided for three, counting her husband no mere unit. Herself she
+reckoned as a half.</p>
+
+<p>It was with intelligible perturbation, therefore, that Yankel&eacute;,
+dressed in some other man's best, approached the house of Rabbi
+Remorse Red-herring about a quarter of an hour before the Sabbath
+mid-day meal, intent on sharing it with him.</p>
+
+<p>"No dinner, no marriage!" was da Costa's stern ukase.</p>
+
+<p>What wonder if the inaccessible meal took upon itself the grandiosity
+of a wedding feast! Deborah da Costa's lovely face tantalised him like
+a mirage.</p>
+
+<p>The Sabbath day was bleak, but chiller was his heart. The Rabbi had
+apartments in Steward Street, Spitalfields, an elegant suite on the
+ground-floor, for he stinted himself in<span class="pagenum">[87]</span> nothing but charity. At the
+entrance was a porch&mdash;a pointed Gothic arch of wood supported by two
+pillars. As Yankel&eacute; mounted the three wooden steps, breathing as
+painfully as if they were three hundred, and wondering if he would
+ever get merely as far as the other side of the door, he was assailed
+by the temptation to go and dine peacefully at home, and represent to
+da Costa that he had feasted with the Rabbi. Manasseh would never
+know, Manasseh had taken no steps to ascertain if he satisfied the
+test or not. Such carelessness, he told himself in righteous
+indignation, deserved fitting punishment. But, on the other hand, he
+recalled Manasseh's trust in him; Manasseh believed him a man of
+honour, and the patron's elevation of soul awoke an answering chivalry
+in the parasite.</p>
+
+<p>He decided to make the attempt at least, for there would be plenty of
+time to say he had succeeded, after he had failed.</p>
+
+<p>Vibrating with tremors of nobility as well as of apprehension, Yankel&eacute;
+lifted the knocker. He had no programme, trusting to chance and
+mother-wit.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Remorse Red-herring half opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I vish to see de Rabbi," he said, putting one foot within.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[88]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i024.jpg" width="231" height="369" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;&#39;I VISH TO SEE DE RABBI.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"He is engaged," said the wife&mdash;a tiny thin creature who had been
+plump and pretty. "He is very busy talking with a gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but I can vait."</p>
+
+<p>"But the Rabbi will be having his dinner soon."</p>
+
+<p>"I can vait till after dinner," said Yankel&eacute; obligingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but the Rabbi sits long at table."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind," said Yankel&eacute; with undiminished placidity, "de longer
+de better."</p>
+
+<p>The poor woman looked perplexed. "I'll tell my husband," she said at
+last.</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; had an anxious moment in the passage.</p>
+
+<p>"The Rabbi wishes to know what you want," she said when she returned.</p>
+
+<p>"I vant to get married," said Yankel&eacute; with an inspiration of veracity.</p>
+
+<p>"But my husband doesn't marry people."</p>
+
+<p>"Vy not?"</p>
+
+<p>"He only brings consolation into households," she explained
+ingenuously.</p>
+
+<p>"Vell, I won't get married midout him," Yankel&eacute; murmured lugubriously.</p>
+
+<p>The little woman went back in bewilderment to her bosom's lord.
+Forthwith out came Rabbi Remorse Red-herring, curiosity and cupidity
+in his eyes. He wore the skull-cap of sanctity, but looked the
+gourmand in spite of it.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Sabbath, sir! What is this about your getting married?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's a long story," said Yankel&eacute;, "and as your good vife told me your
+dinner is just ready, I mustn't keep you now."</p>
+
+<p>"No, there are still a few minutes before dinner. What is it?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[89]</span></p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; shook his head. "I couldn't tink of keeping you in dis
+draughty passage."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind. I don't feel any draught."</p>
+
+<p>"Dat's just vere de danger lays. You don't notice, and one day you
+find yourself laid up mid rheumatism, and you vill have Remorse," said
+Yankel&eacute; with a twinkle. "Your life is precious&mdash;if <i>you</i> die, who vill
+console de community?"</p>
+
+<p>It was an ambiguous remark, but the Rabbi understood it in its most
+flattering sense, and his little eyes beamed. "I would ask you
+inside," he said, "but I have a visitor."</p>
+
+<p>"No matter," said Yankel&eacute;, "vat I have to say to you, Rabbi, is not
+private. A stranger may hear it."</p>
+
+<p>Still undecided, the Rabbi muttered, "You want me to marry you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to get married," replied Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"But I have never been called upon to marry people."</p>
+
+<p>"It's never too late to mend, dey say."</p>
+
+<p>"Strange&mdash;strange," murmured the Rabbi reflectively.</p>
+
+<p>"Vat is strange?"</p>
+
+<p>"That you should come to me just to-day. But why did you not go to
+Rabbi Sandman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Rabbi Sandman!" replied Yankel&eacute; with contempt. "Vere vould be de good
+of going to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"But why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every <i>Schnorrer</i> goes to him," said Yankel&eacute; frankly.</p>
+
+<p>"Hum!" mused the Rabbi. "Perhaps there <i>is</i> an opening for a more
+select marrier. Come in, then, I can give you five minutes if you
+really don't mind talking before a stranger."</p>
+
+<p>He threw open the door, and led the way into the sitting-room.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[90]</span></p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; followed, exultant; the outworks were already carried, and his
+heart beat high with hope. But at his first glance within, he reeled
+and almost fell.</p>
+
+<p>Standing with his back to the fire and dominating the room was
+Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa!</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Yankel&eacute;, good Sabbath!" said da Costa affably.</p>
+
+<p>"G-g-ood Sabbath!" stammered Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you know each other!" cried the Rabbi.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said Manasseh, "an acquaintance of yours, too, apparently."</p>
+
+<p>"No, he is just come to see me about something," replied the Rabbi.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you did not know the Rabbi, Mr. da Costa?" Yankel&eacute; could
+not help saying.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't. I only had the pleasure of making his acquaintance half an
+hour ago. I met him in the street as he was coming home from morning
+service, and he was kind enough to invite me to dinner."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; gasped; despite his secret amusement at Manasseh's airs, there
+were moments when the easy magnificence of the man overwhelmed him,
+extorted his reluctant admiration. How in Heaven's name had the
+Spaniard conquered at a blow!</p>
+
+<p>Looking down at the table, he now observed that it was already laid
+for dinner&mdash;and for three! He should have been that third. Was it fair
+of Manasseh to handicap him thus? Naturally, there would be infinitely
+less chance of a fourth being invited than a third&mdash;to say nothing of
+the dearth of provisions. "But, surely, you don't intend to stay to
+dinner!" he complained in dismay.</p>
+
+<p>"I have given my word," said Manasseh, "and I shouldn't care to
+disappoint the Rabbi."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it's no disappointment, no disappointment," remarked<span class="pagenum">[91]</span> Rabbi
+Remorse Red-herring cordially, "I could just as well come round and
+see you after dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"After dinner I never see people," said Manasseh majestically; "I
+sleep."</p>
+
+<p>The Rabbi dared not make further protest: he turned to Yankel&eacute; and
+asked, "Well, now, what's this about your marriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't tell you before Mr. da Costa," replied Yankel&eacute;, to gain time.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? You said anybody might hear."</p>
+
+<p>"Noting of the sort. I said a stranger might hear. But Mr. da Costa
+isn't a stranger. He knows too much about de matter."</p>
+
+<p>"What shall we do, then?" murmured the Rabbi.</p>
+
+<p>"I can vait till after dinner," said Yankel&eacute;, with good-natured
+carelessness. "<i>I</i> don't sleep&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Before the Rabbi could reply, the wife brought in a baked dish, and
+set it on the table. Her husband glowered at her, but she, regular as
+clockwork, and as unthinking, produced the black bottle of <i>schnapps</i>.
+It was her husband's business to get rid of Yankel&eacute;; her business was
+to bring on the dinner. If she had delayed, he would have raged
+equally. She was not only wife, but maid-of-all-work.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing the advanced state of the preparations, Manasseh da Costa took
+his seat at the table; obeying her husband's significant glance, Mrs.
+Red-herring took up her position at the foot. The Rabbi himself sat
+down at the head, behind the dish. He always served, being the only
+person he could rely upon to gauge his capacities. Yankel&eacute; was left
+standing. The odour of the meat and potatoes impregnated the
+atmosphere with wistful poetry.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the Rabbi looked up and perceived Yankel&eacute;. "Will you do as we
+do?" he said in seductive accents.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[92]</span></p>
+
+<p>The <i>Schnorrer's</i> heart gave one wild, mad throb of joy. He laid his
+hand on the only other chair.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind if I do," he said, with responsive amiability.</p>
+
+<p>"Then go home and have <i>your</i> dinner," said the Rabbi.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i025.jpg" width="384" height="635" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;THEN GO HOME AND HAVE YOUR DINNER.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute;'s wild heart-beat was exchanged for a stagnation as of death.
+A shiver ran down his spine. He darted an agonised appealing glance at
+Manasseh, who sniggered inscrutably.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't tink I ought to go avay and leave you midout a tird man
+for grace," he said, in tones of prophetic rebuke. "Since I <i>be</i> here,
+it vould be a sin not to stay."</p>
+
+<p>The Rabbi, having a certain connection with religion, was cornered; he
+was not able to repudiate such an opportunity of that more pious form
+of grace which needs the presence of three males.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I should be very glad for you to stay," said the Rabbi, "but,
+unfortunately, we have only three meat-plates."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, de dish vill do for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then!" said the Rabbi.</p>
+
+<p>And Yankel&eacute;, with the old mad heart-beat, took the fourth chair,
+darting a triumphant glance at the still sniggering Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>The hostess rose, misunderstanding her husband's optical signals, and
+fished out a knife and fork from the recesses of a chiffonier. The
+host first heaped his own plate high with artistically coloured
+potatoes and stiff meat&mdash;less from discourtesy than from life-long
+habit&mdash;then divided the remainder in unequal portions between Manasseh
+and the little woman, in rough correspondence with their sizes.
+Finally, he handed Yankel&eacute; the empty dish.</p>
+
+<p>"You see there is nothing left," he said simply. "We didn't even
+expect one visitor."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[93]</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[94]</span></p><p>"First come, first served," observed Manasseh, with his sphinx-like
+expression, as he fell-to.</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; sat frozen, staring blankly at the dish, his brain as empty.
+He had lost.</p>
+
+<p>Such a dinner was a hollow mockery&mdash;like the dish. He could not expect
+Manasseh to accept it, quibbled he ever so cunningly. He sat for a
+minute or two as in a dream, the music of knife and fork ringing
+mockingly in his ears, his hungry palate moistened by the delicious
+savour. Then he shook off his stupor, and all his being was
+desperately astrain, questing for an idea. Manasseh discoursed with
+his host on neo-Hebrew literature.</p>
+
+<p>"We thought of starting a journal at Grodno," said the Rabbi, "only
+the funds&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Be you den a native of Grodno?" interrupted Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I was born there," mumbled the Rabbi, "but I left there twenty
+years ago." His mouth was full, and he did not cease to ply the
+cutlery.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Yankel&eacute; enthusiastically, "den you must be de famous
+preacher everybody speaks of. I do not remember you myself, for I vas
+a boy, but dey say ve haven't got no such preachers nowaday."</p>
+
+<p>"In Grodno my husband kept a brandy shop," put in the hostess.</p>
+
+<p>There was a bad quarter of a minute of silence. To Yankel&eacute;'s relief,
+the Rabbi ended it by observing, "Yes, but doubtless the gentleman
+(you will excuse me calling you that, sir, I don't know your real
+name) alluded to my fame as a boy-Maggid. At the age of five I
+preached to audiences of many hundreds, and my manipulation of texts,
+my demonstrations that they did not mean what they said, drew tears
+even from octogenarians familiar with the Torah from<span class="pagenum">[95]</span> their earliest
+infancy. It was said there never was such a wonder-child since Ben
+Sira."</p>
+
+<p>"But why did you give it up?" enquired Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"It gave me up," said the Rabbi, putting down his knife and fork to
+expound an ancient grievance. "A boy-Maggid cannot last more than a
+few years. Up to nine I was still a draw, but every year the wonder
+grew less, and, when I was thirteen, my Bar-Mitzvah (confirmation)
+sermon occasioned no more sensation than those of the many other lads
+whose sermons I had written for them. I struggled along as boyishly as
+I could for some time after that, but it was in a losing cause. My age
+won on me daily. As it is said, 'I have been young, and now I am old.'
+In vain I composed the most eloquent addresses to be heard in Grodno.
+In vain I gave a course on the emotions, with explanations and
+instances from daily life&mdash;the fickle public preferred younger
+attractions. So at last I gave it up and sold <i>vodki</i>."</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i026.jpg" width="230" height="331" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;&#39;SOLD VODKI.&#39;&quot;&quot;&#39;SOLD VODKI.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Vat a pity! Vat a pity!" ejaculated Yankel&eacute;, "after vinning fame in
+de Torah!"</p>
+
+<p>"But what is a man to do? He is not always a boy," replied the Rabbi.
+"Yes, I kept a brandy shop. That's<span class="pagenum">[96]</span> what I call Degradation. But there
+is always balm in Gilead. I lost so much money over it that I had to
+emigrate to England, where, finding nothing else to do, I became a
+preacher again." He poured himself out a glass of <i>schnapps</i>, ignoring
+the water.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard nothing of de <i>vodki</i> shop," said Yankel&eacute;; "it vas svallowed
+up in your earlier fame."</p>
+
+<p>The Rabbi drained the glass of <i>schnapps</i>, smacked his lips, and
+resumed his knife and fork. Manasseh reached for the unoffered bottle,
+and helped himself liberally. The Rabbi unostentatiously withdrew it
+beyond his easy reach, looking at Yankel&eacute; the while.</p>
+
+<p>"How long have you been in England?" he asked the Pole.</p>
+
+<p>"Not long," said Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! Does Gabriel the cantor still suffer from neuralgia?"</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; looked sad. "No&mdash;he is dead," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me! Well, he was tottering when I knew him. His blowing of the
+ram's horn got wheezier every year. And how is his young brother,
+Samuel?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead!" said Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"What, he too! Tut, tut! He was so robust. Has Mendelssohn, the
+stonemason, got many more girls?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead!" said Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" gasped the Rabbi, dropping his knife and fork. "Why, I
+heard from him only a few months ago."</p>
+
+<p>"He is dead!" said Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious me! Mendelssohn dead!" After a moment of emotion he
+resumed his meal. "But his sons and daughters are all doing well, I
+hope. The eldest, Solomon, was a most pious youth, and his third girl,
+Neshamah, promised to be a rare beauty."</p>
+
+<p>"They are dead!" said Yankel&eacute;.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[97]</span></p>
+
+<p>This time the Rabbi turned pale as a corpse himself. He laid down his
+knife and fork automatically.</p>
+
+<p>"D&mdash;dead," he breathed in an awestruck whisper. "All?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everyone. De same cholera took all de family."</p>
+
+<p>The Rabbi covered his face with his hands. "Then poor Solomon's wife
+is a widow. I hope he left her enough to live upon."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but it doesn't matter," said Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"It matters a great deal," cried the Rabbi.</p>
+
+<p>"She is dead," said Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Rebecca Schwartz dead!" screamed the Rabbi, for he had once loved the
+maiden himself, and, not having married her, had still a tenderness
+for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Rebecca Schwartz," repeated Yankel&eacute; inexorably.</p>
+
+<p>"Was it the cholera?" faltered the Rabbi.</p>
+
+<p>"No, she vas heart-broke."</p>
+
+<p>Rabbi Remorse Red-herring silently pushed his plate away, and leaned
+his elbows upon the table and his face upon his palms, and his chin
+upon the bottle of <i>schnapps</i> in mournful meditation.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i027.jpg" width="228" height="182" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;IN MOURNFUL MEDITATION.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"You are not eating, Rabbi," said Yankel&eacute; insinuatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"I have lost my appetite," said the Rabbi.</p>
+
+<p>"Vat a pity to let food get cold and spoil! You'd better eat it."</p>
+
+<p>The Rabbi shook his head querulously.</p>
+
+<p>"Den I vill eat it," cried Yankel&eacute; indignantly. "Good hot food like
+dat!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[98]</span></p>
+
+<p>"As you like," said the Rabbi wearily. And Yankel&eacute; began to eat at
+lightning speed, pausing only to wink at the inscrutable Manasseh; and
+to cast yearning glances at the inaccessible <i>schnapps</i> that supported
+the Rabbi's chin.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the Rabbi looked up: "You're quite sure all these people are
+dead?" he asked with a dawning suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>"May my blood be poured out like this <i>schnapps</i>," protested Yankel&eacute;,
+dislodging the bottle, and vehemently pouring the spirit into a
+tumbler, "if dey be not."</p>
+
+<p>The Rabbi relapsed into his moody attitude, and retained it till his
+wife brought in a big willow-pattern china dish of stewed prunes and
+pippins. She produced four plates for these, and so Yankel&eacute; finished
+his meal in the unquestionable status of a first-class guest. The
+Rabbi was by this time sufficiently recovered to toy with two
+platefuls in a melancholy silence which he did not break till his
+mouth opened involuntarily to intone the grace.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="split" src="images/i028.jpg" width="196" height="372" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption split">&quot;PRUNES AND PIPPINS.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>When grace was over he turned to Manasseh and said, "And what was this
+way you were suggesting to me of getting a profitable Sephardic
+connection?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did, indeed, wonder why you did not extend your practice as
+consolation preacher among the Spanish Jews,"<span class="pagenum">[99]</span> replied Manasseh
+gravely. "But after what we have just heard of the death-rate of Jews
+in Grodno, I should seriously advise you to go back there."</p>
+
+<p>"No, they cannot forget that I was once a boy," replied the Rabbi with
+equal gravity. "I prefer the Spanish Jews. They are all well-to-do.
+They may not die so often as the Russians, but they die better, so to
+speak. You will give me introductions, you will speak of me to your
+illustrious friends, I understand."</p>
+
+<p>"You understand!" repeated Manasseh in dignified astonishment. "You do
+not understand. I shall do no such thing."</p>
+
+<p>"But you yourself suggested it!" cried the Rabbi excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I? Nothing of the kind. I had heard of you and your ministrations to
+mourners, and meeting you in the street this afternoon for the first
+time, it struck me to enquire why you did not carry your consolations
+into the bosom of my community where so much more money is to be made.
+I said I wondered you had not done so from the first. And you&mdash;invited
+me to dinner. I still wonder. That is all, my good man." He rose to
+go.</p>
+
+<p>The haughty rebuke silenced the Rabbi, though his heart was hot with a
+vague sense of injury.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you come my way, Yankel&eacute;?" said Manasseh carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>The Rabbi turned hastily to his second guest.</p>
+
+<p>"When do you want me to marry you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"You have married me," replied Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"I?" gasped the Rabbi. It was the last straw.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," reiterated Yankel&eacute;. "Hasn't he, Mr. da Costa?"</p>
+
+<p>His heart went pit-a-pat as he put the question.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," said Manasseh without hesitation.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[100]</span></p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute;'s face was made glorious summer. Only two of the quartette
+knew the secret of his radiance.</p>
+
+<p>"There, Rabbi," he cried exultantly. "Good Sabbath!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good Sabbath!" added Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Sabbath," dazedly murmured the Rabbi.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Sabbath," added his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Congratulate me!" cried Yankel&eacute; when they got outside.</p>
+
+<p>"On what?" asked Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"On being your future son-in-law, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, on <i>that</i>? Certainly, I congratulate you most heartily." The two
+<i>Schnorrers</i> shook hands. "I thought you were asking for compliments
+on your man&oelig;uvring."</p>
+
+<p>"Vy, doesn't it deserve dem?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Manasseh magisterially.</p>
+
+<p>"No?" queried Yankel&eacute;, his heart sinking again. "Vy not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you kill so many people?"</p>
+
+<p>"Somebody must die dat I may live."</p>
+
+<p>"You said that before," said Manasseh severely. "A good <i>Schnorrer</i>
+would not have slaughtered so many for his dinner. It is a waste of
+good material. And then you told lies!"</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know they are not dead?" pleaded Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>The King shook his head reprovingly. "A first-class <i>Schnorrer</i> never
+lies," he laid it down.</p>
+
+<p>"I might have made truth go as far as a lie&mdash;if you hadn't come to
+dinner yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that you say? Why, I came to encourage you by showing you how
+easy your task was."</p>
+
+<p>"On de contrary, you made it much harder for me. Dere vas no dinner
+left."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[101]</span></p>
+
+<p>"But against that you must reckon that since the Rabbi had already
+invited one person, he couldn't be so hard to tackle as I had
+fancied."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but you must not judge from yourself," protested Yankel&eacute;. "You be
+not a <i>Schnorrer</i>&mdash;you be a miracle."</p>
+
+<p>"But I should like a miracle for my son-in-law also," grumbled the
+King.</p>
+
+<p>"And if you had to <i>schnorr</i> a son-in-law, you vould get a miracle,"
+said Yankel&eacute; soothingly. "As he has to <i>schnorr</i> you, <i>he</i> gets the
+miracle."</p>
+
+<p>"True," observed Manasseh musingly, "and I think you might therefore
+be very well content without the dowry."</p>
+
+<p>"So I might," admitted Yankel&eacute;, "only <i>you</i> vould not be content to
+break your promise. I suppose I shall have some of de dowry on de
+marriage morning."</p>
+
+<p>"On that morning you shall get my daughter&mdash;without fail. Surely that
+will be enough for one day!"</p>
+
+<p>"Vell, ven do I get de money your daughter gets from de Synagogue?"</p>
+
+<p>"When she gets it from the Synagogue, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"How much vill it be?"</p>
+
+<p>"It may be a hundred and fifty pounds," said Manasseh pompously.</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute;'s eyes sparkled.</p>
+
+<p>"And it may be less," added Manasseh as an after-thought.</p>
+
+<p>"How much less?" enquired Yankel&eacute; anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"A hundred and fifty pounds," repeated Manasseh pompously.</p>
+
+<p>"D'you mean to say I may get noting?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, if she gets nothing. What I promised you was the money she
+gets from the Synagogue. Should she be fortunate enough in the
+<i>sorteo</i>&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"De <i>sorteo</i>! Vat is dat?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[102]</span></p>
+
+<p>"The dowry I told you of. It is accorded by lot. My daughter has as
+good a chance as any other maiden. By winning her you stand to win a
+hundred and fifty pounds. It is a handsome amount. There are not many
+fathers who would do as much for their daughters," concluded Manasseh
+with conscious magnanimity.</p>
+
+<p>"But about de Jerusalem estate!" said Yankel&eacute;, shifting his
+standpoint. "I don't vant to go and live dere. De Messiah is not yet
+come."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you will hardly be able to live on it," admitted Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not object to my selling it, den?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! If you are so sordid, if you have no true Jewish sentiment!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ven can I come into possession?"</p>
+
+<p>"On the wedding day if you like."</p>
+
+<p>"One may as vell get it over," said Yankel&eacute;, suppressing a desire to
+rub his hands in glee. "As de Talmud says, 'One peppercorn to-day is
+better dan a basketful of pumpkins to-morrow.'"</p>
+
+<p>"All right! I will bring it to the Synagogue."</p>
+
+<p>"Bring it to de Synagogue!" repeated Yankel&eacute; in amaze. "Oh, you mean
+de deed of transfer."</p>
+
+<p>"The deed of transfer! Do you think I waste my substance on
+solicitors? No, I will bring the property itself."</p>
+
+<p>"But how can you do dat?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where is the difficulty?" demanded Manasseh with withering contempt.
+"Surely a child could carry a casket of Jerusalem earth to Synagogue!"</p>
+
+<p>"A casket of earth! Is your property in Jerusalem only a casket of
+earth?"</p>
+
+<p>"What then? You didn't expect it would be a casket of diamonds?"
+retorted Manasseh, with gathering wrath.<span class="pagenum">[103]</span> "To a true Jew a casket of
+Jerusalem earth is worth all the diamonds in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"But your Jerusalem property is a fraud!" gasped Yankel&eacute;.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, you may be easy on that point. It's quite genuine. I know
+there is a good deal of spurious Palestine earth in circulation, and
+that many a dead man who has clods of it thrown into his tomb is
+nevertheless buried in unholy soil. But this casket I was careful to
+obtain from a Rabbi of extreme sanctity. It was the only thing he had
+worth <i>schnorring</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't suppose I shall get more dan a crown for it," said Yankel&eacute;,
+with irrepressible indignation.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I say," returned Manasseh; "and never did I think a
+son-in-law of mine would meditate selling my holy soil for a paltry
+five shillings! I will not withdraw my promise, but I am disappointed
+in you&mdash;bitterly disappointed. Had I known this earth was not to cover
+your bones, it should have gone down to the grave with me, as enjoined
+in my last will and testament, by the side of which it stands in my
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>"Very vell, I von't sell it," said Yankel&eacute; sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>"You relieve my soul. As the <i>Mishnah</i> says, 'He who marries a wife
+for money begets froward children.'"</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="split" src="images/i029.jpg" width="269" height="429" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption split">&quot;THE UNCONSCIOUS BRIDE OPENED<br />THE DOOR.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"And vat about de province in England?" asked Yankel&eacute;, in low,
+despondent tones. He had never believed in <i>that</i>, but now, behind all
+his despair and incredulity, was a vague hope that something might yet
+be saved from the crash.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you shall choose your own," replied Manasseh graciously. "We will
+get a large map of London, and I will mark off in red pencil the
+domain in which I <i>schnorr</i>. You will then choose any district in
+this&mdash;say, two main streets<span class="pagenum">[104]</span> and a dozen byways and alleys&mdash;which
+shall be marked off in blue pencil, and whatever province of my
+kingdom you pick, I undertake not to <i>schnorr</i> in, from your
+wedding-day onwards. I need not tell you how valuable such a province
+already is; under careful administration, such as you would be able to
+give it, the revenue from it might be doubled, trebled. I do not think
+your tribute to me need be more than ten per cent."</p>
+
+<p>Yankel&eacute; walked along mesmerised, reduced to somnambulism by his
+magnificently masterful patron.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, here we are!" said Manasseh, stopping short. "Won't you come in
+and see the bride, and wish her joy?"</p>
+
+<p>A flash of joy came into Yankel&eacute;'s own face, dissipating his glooms.
+After all there was always da Costa's beautiful daughter&mdash;a solid,
+substantial satisfaction. He was glad she was not an item of the
+dowry.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[105]</span></p>
+
+<p>The unconscious bride opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, ha, Yankel&eacute;!" said Manasseh, his paternal heart aglow at the
+sight of her loveliness. "You will be not only a king, but a rich
+king. As it is written, 'Who is rich? He who hath a beautiful wife.'"</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">SHOWING HOW THE KING DISSOLVED THE MAHAMAD.</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh da Costa (thus docked of his nominal plenitude in the solemn
+writ) had been summoned before the Mahamad, the intended union of his
+daughter with a Polish Jew having excited the liveliest horror and
+displeasure in the breasts of the Elders of the Synagogue. Such a Jew
+did not pronounce Hebrew as they did!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i030.jpg" width="277" height="338" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE ELDERS OF THE SYNAGOGUE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Mahamad was a Council of Five, no less dread than the more
+notorious Council of Ten. Like the Venetian Tribunal, which has
+unjustly monopolised the attention of history, it was of annual
+election, and it was elected by a larger body of Elders, just as the
+Council of Ten was chosen by the aristocracy. "The gentlemen of the
+Mahamad," as they were styled, administered the affairs of the
+Spanish-Portuguese community, and their oligarchy would undoubtedly be
+a byword for all that is arbitrary and inquisitorial but for the
+widespread ignorance of its existence. To itself the Mahamad was the
+centre of creation. On one occasion it refused to bow even to the
+authority of the Lord Mayor of London. A Sephardic Jew lived and moved
+and had his being "by permission of the Mahamad." Without its consent
+he could have no legitimate place in the scheme of things. Minus "the
+permission of the Mahamad" he could<span class="pagenum">[106]</span> not marry; with it he could be
+divorced readily. He might, indeed, die without the sanction of the
+Council of Five, but this was the only great act of his life which was
+free from its surveillance, and he could certainly not be buried save
+"by permission of the Mahamad." The Haham himself, the Sage or Chief
+Rabbi of the congregation, could not unite his flock in holy wedlock
+without the "permission of the Mahamad." And this authority was not
+merely negative and passive, it was likewise positive and active. To
+be a Yahid&mdash;a recognised congregant&mdash;one had to submit one's neck to a
+yoke more galling even than that of the Torah, to say nothing of the
+payment of Finta, or poll-tax. Woe to<span class="pagenum">[107]</span> him who refused to be Warden of
+the Captives&mdash;he who ransomed the chained hostages of the Moorish
+Corsairs, or the war prisoners held in durance by the Turks&mdash;or to be
+President of the Congregation, or Parnass of the Holy Land, or
+Bridegroom of the Law, or any of the numerous dignitaries of a complex
+constitution. Fines, frequent and heavy&mdash;for the benefit of the
+poor-box&mdash;awaited him "by permission of the Mahamad." Unhappy the
+wight who misconducted himself in Synagogue "by offending the
+president, or grossly insulting any other person," as the ordinance
+deliciously ran. Penalties, stringent and harrying, visited these and
+other offences&mdash;deprivation of the "good deeds," of swathing the Holy
+Scroll, or opening the Ark; ignominious relegation to seats behind the
+reading-desk, withdrawal of the franchise, prohibition against shaving
+for a term of weeks! And if, accepting office, the Yahid failed in the
+punctual and regular discharge of his duties, he was mulcted and
+chastised none the less. A fine of forty pounds drove from the
+Synagogue Isaac Disraeli, collector of <i>Curiosities of Literature</i>,
+and made possible that curiosity of politics, the career of Lord
+Beaconsfield. The fathers of the Synagogue, who drew up their
+constitution in pure Castilian in the days when Pepys noted the
+indecorum in their little Synagogue in King Street, meant their
+statutes to cement, not thus to disintegrate, the community. 'Twas a
+tactless tyranny, this of the Mahamad, an inelastic administration of
+a cast-iron codex wrought "in good King Charles's golden days," when
+the colony of Dutch-Spanish exiles was as a camp in enemies' country,
+in need of military <i>r&eacute;gime</i>; and it co-operated with the attractions
+of an unhampered "Christian" career in driving many a brilliant family
+beyond the gates of the Ghetto, and into the pages of Debrett. Athens
+is always a dangerous rival to Sparta.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[108]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i031.jpg" width="257" height="406" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;THE PRESIDENT OF THE MAHAMAD.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But the Mahamad itself moved strictly in the grooves of prescription.
+That legalistic instinct of the Hebrew, which had evolved the most
+gigantic and minute code of conduct in the world, had beguiled these
+latter-day Jews into super-adding to it a local legislation that grew
+into two hundred pages of Portuguese&mdash;an intertangled network of
+<i>Ascamot</i> or regulations, providing for every contingency of Synagogue
+politics, from the quarrels of members for the best seats down to the
+dimensions of their graves in the <i>Carreira</i>, from the distribution of
+"good deeds" among the rich to the distribution of Passover Cakes
+among the poor. If the wheels and pulleys of the communal life moved
+"by permission of the Mahamad," the Mahamad moved by permission of the
+<i>Ascamot</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The Solemn Council was met&mdash;"in complete Mahamad." Even the Chief of
+the Elders was present, by virtue of his privilege, making a sixth;
+not to count the Chancellor or Secretary, who sat flutteringly
+fingering the Portuguese Minute Book on the right of the President. He
+was a little man, an odd medley of pomp and bluster, with a
+snuff-smeared upper lip, and a nose that had dipped in the wine when
+it was red. He had a grandiose sense of his own importance, but it was
+a pride that had its roots in humility, for he felt himself great
+because he was the servant of greatness. He lived "by permission of
+the Mahamad." As an official he was theoretically inaccessible. If you
+approached him on a matter he would put out his palms deprecatingly
+and pant, "I must consult the Mahamad." It was said of him that he had
+once been asked the time, and that he had automatically panted, "I
+must consult the Mahamad." This consultation was the merest form; in
+practice the Secretary had more influence than the Chief Rabbi, who
+was not allowed to recommend an applicant for<span class="pagenum">[109]</span> charity, for the quaint
+reason that the respect entertained for him might unduly prejudice the
+Council in favour of his candidate. As no gentleman of the Mahamad
+could possibly master the statutes in his year of office, especially
+as only a rare member understood the Portuguese in which they had been
+ultimately couched, the Secretary was invariably referred to, for he
+was permanent, full of saws and precedents, and so he interpreted the
+law with impartial inaccuracy&mdash;"by permission of the Mahamad." In his
+heart of hearts he believed that the sun rose and the rain fell&mdash;"by
+permission of the Mahamad."</p>
+
+<p>The Council Chamber was of goodly proportions, and was decorated by
+gold lettered panels, inscribed with the names of pious donors, thick
+as saints in a graveyard, overflowing even into the lobby. The flower
+and chivalry of the Spanish Jewry had sat round that Council-table,
+grandees who had plumed and ruffled it with the bloods of their day,
+clanking their swords with the best, punctilious<span class="pagenum">[110]</span> withal and
+ceremonious, with the stately Castilian courtesy still preserved by
+the men who were met this afternoon, to whom their memory was as faint
+as the fading records of the panels. These descendants of theirs had
+still elaborate salutations and circumlocutions, and austere dignities
+of debate. "God-fearing men of capacity and respectability," as the
+<i>Ascama</i> demanded, they were also men of money, and it gave them a
+port and a repose. His Britannic Majesty graced the throne no better
+than the President of the Mahamad, seated at the head of the long
+table in his alcoved arm-chair, with the Chief of the Elders on his
+left, and the Chancellor on his right, and his Councillors all about
+him. The westering sun sent a pencil of golden light through the
+Norman windows as if anxious to record the names of those present in
+gilt letters&mdash;"by permission of the Mahamad."</p>
+
+<p>"Let da Costa enter," said the President, when the agenda demanded the
+great <i>Schnorrer's</i> presence.</p>
+
+<p>The Chancellor fluttered to his feet, fussily threw open the door, and
+beckoned vacancy with his finger till he discovered Manasseh was not
+in the lobby. The beadle came hurrying up instead.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i032.jpg" width="274" height="419" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;BECKONED WITH HIS FINGER.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Where is da Costa?" panted the Chancellor. "Call da Costa."</p>
+
+<p>"Da Costa!" sonorously intoned the beadle with the long-drawn accent
+of court ushers.</p>
+
+<p>The corridor rang hollow, empty of Manasseh. "Why, he was here a
+moment ago," cried the bewildered beadle. He ran down the passage, and
+found him sure enough at the end of it where it abutted on the street.
+The King of <i>Schnorrers</i> was in dignified converse with a person of
+consideration.</p>
+
+<p>"Da Costa!" the beadle cried again, but his tone was less awesome and
+more tetchy. The beggar did not turn his head.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[111]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Mr. da Costa," said the beadle, now arrived too near the imposing
+figure to venture on familiarities with it. This time the beggar gave
+indications of restored hearing. "Yes, my man," he said, turning and
+advancing a few paces to meet the envoy. "Don't go, Grobstock," he
+called over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't you hear me calling?" grumbled the beadle.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard you calling da Costa, but I naturally imagined it was one of
+your drinking companions," replied Manasseh severely.</p>
+
+<p>"The Mahamad is waiting for you," faltered the beadle.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell <i>the gentlemen</i> of the Mahamad," said Manasseh, with reproving
+emphasis, "that I shall do myself the pleasure of being with them
+presently. Nay, pray don't hurry away, my dear Grobstock," he went on,
+resuming his place at the German magnate's side&mdash;"and so your wife is
+taking the waters at Tunbridge Wells. In faith, 'tis an excellent
+regimen for the vapours. I am thinking<span class="pagenum">[112]</span> of sending my wife to
+Buxton&mdash;the warden of our hospital has his country-seat there."</p>
+
+<p>"But you are wanted," murmured Grobstock, who was anxious to escape.
+He had caught the <i>Schnorrer's</i> eye as its owner sunned himself in the
+archway, and it held him.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis only a meeting of the Mahamad I have to attend," he said
+indifferently. "Rather a nuisance&mdash;but duty is duty."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock's red face became a setting for two expanded eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought the Mahamad was your chief Council," he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there are only five of us," said Manasseh lightly, and, while
+Grobstock gaped incredulous, the Chancellor himself shambled up in
+pale consternation.</p>
+
+<p>"You are keeping the gentlemen of the Mahamad waiting," he panted
+imperiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, you are right, Grobstock," said Manasseh with a sigh of
+resignation. "They cannot get on without me. Well, you will excuse me,
+I know. I am glad to have seen you again&mdash;we shall finish our chat at
+your house some evening, shall we? I have agreeable recollections of
+your hospitality."</p>
+
+<p>"My wife will be away all this month," Grobstock repeated feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Manasseh roguishly. "Thank you for the reminder.
+I shall not fail to aid you in taking advantage of her absence.
+Perhaps mine will be away, too&mdash;at Buxton. Two bachelors, ha! ha! ha!"
+and, proffering his hand, he shook Grobstock's in gracious farewell.
+Then he sauntered leisurely in the wake of the feverishly impatient
+Chancellor, his staff tapping the stones in measured tardiness.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[113]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i033.jpg" width="291" height="421" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;&#39;HA! HA! HA!&#39; LAUGHED MANASSEH.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he observed affably as he entered the
+Council Chamber.</p>
+
+<p>"You have kept us waiting," sharply rejoined the President of the
+Mahamad, ruffled out of his regal suavity. He was a puffy, swarthy
+personage, elegantly attired, and he leaned forward on his velvet
+throne, tattooing on the table with bediamonded fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so long as you have kept <i>me</i> waiting," said Manasseh with quiet
+resentment. "If I had known you expected me to cool my heels in the
+corridor I should not have come, and, had not my friend the Treasurer
+of the Great Synagogue opportunely turned up to chat with me, I should
+not have stayed."</p>
+
+<p>"You are impertinent, sir," growled the President.</p>
+
+<p>"I think, sir, it is you who owe me an apology," maintained Manasseh
+unflinchingly, "and, knowing the courtesy and high breeding which has
+always distinguished your noble family, I can only explain your
+present tone by your being<span class="pagenum">[114]</span> unaware I have a grievance. No doubt it is
+your Chancellor who cited me to appear at too early an hour."</p>
+
+<p>The President, cooled by the quiet dignity of the beggar, turned a
+questioning glance upon the outraged Chancellor, who was crimson and
+quivering with confusion and indignation.</p>
+
+<p>"It is usual t-t-to summon persons before the c-c-commencement of the
+meeting," he stammered hotly. "We cannot tell how long the prior
+business will take."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I would respectfully submit to the Chief of the Elders," said
+Manasseh, "that at the next meeting of his august body he move a
+resolution that persons cited to appear before the Mahamad shall take
+precedence of all other business."</p>
+
+<p>The Chief of the Elders looked helplessly at the President of the
+Mahamad, who was equally at sea. "However, I will not press that point
+now," added Manasseh, "nor will I draw the attention of the committee
+to the careless, perfunctory manner in which the document summoning me
+was drawn up, so that, had I been a stickler for accuracy, I need not
+have answered to the name of Manasseh da Costa."</p>
+
+<p>"But that <i>is</i> your name," protested the Chancellor.</p>
+
+<p>"If you will examine the Charity List," said Manasseh magnificently,
+"you will see that my name is Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da
+Costa. But you are keeping the gentlemen of the Mahamad waiting." And
+with a magnanimous air of dismissing the past, he seated himself on
+the nearest empty chair at the foot of the table, leaned his elbows on
+the table, and his face on his hands, and gazed across at the
+President immediately opposite. The Councillors were so taken aback by
+his unexpected bearing that this additional audacity was scarcely
+noted. But the Chancellor, wounded in his inmost instincts, exclaimed
+irately,<span class="pagenum">[115]</span> "Stand up, sir. These chairs are for the gentlemen of the
+Mahamad."</p>
+
+<p>"And being gentlemen," added Manasseh crushingly, "they know better
+than to keep an old man on his legs any longer."</p>
+
+<p>"If you were a gentleman," retorted the Chancellor, "you would take
+that thing off your head."</p>
+
+<p>"If you were not a Man-of-the-Earth," rejoined the beggar, "you would
+know that it is not a mark of disrespect for the Mahamad, but of
+respect for the Law, which is higher than the Mahamad. The rich man
+can afford to neglect our holy religion, but the poor man has only the
+Law. It is his sole luxury."</p>
+
+<p>The pathetic tremor in his voice stirred a confused sense of
+wrong-doing and injustice in the Councillors' breasts. The President
+felt vaguely that the edge of his coming impressive rebuke had been
+turned, if, indeed, he did not sit rebuked instead. Irritated, he
+turned on the Chancellor, and bade him hold his peace.</p>
+
+<p>"He means well," said Manasseh deprecatingly. "He cannot be expected
+to have the fine instincts of the gentlemen of the Mahamad. May I ask
+you, sir," he concluded, "to proceed with the business for which you
+have summoned me? I have several appointments to keep with clients."</p>
+
+<p>The President's bediamonded fingers recommenced their ill-tempered
+tattoo; he was fuming inwardly with a sense of baffled wrath, of
+righteous indignation made unrighteous. "Is it true, sir," he burst
+forth at last in the most terrible accents he could command in the
+circumstances, "that you meditate giving your daughter in marriage to
+a Polish Jew?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Manasseh curtly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[116]</span></p>
+
+<p>"No?" articulated the President, while a murmur of astonishment went
+round the table at this unexpected collapse of the whole case.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, your daughter admitted it to my wife," said the Councillor on
+Manasseh's right.</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh turned to him, expostulant, tilting his chair and body
+towards him. "My daughter is going to marry a Polish Jew," he
+explained with argumentative forefinger, "but I do not meditate giving
+her to him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then, you will refuse your consent," said the Councillor,
+hitching his chair back so as to escape the beggar's progressive
+propinquity. "By no means," quoth Manasseh in surprised accents, as he
+drew his chair nearer again, "I have already consented. I do not
+<i>meditate</i> consenting. That word argues an inconclusive attitude."</p>
+
+<p>"None of your quibbles, sirrah," cried the President, while a scarlet
+flush mantled on his dark countenance. "Do you not know that the union
+you contemplate is disgraceful and degrading to you, to your daughter,
+and to the community which has done so much for you? What! A Sephardi
+marry a Tedesco! Shameful."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you think I do not feel the shame as deeply as you?" enquired
+Manasseh, with infinite pathos. "Do you think, gentlemen, that I have
+not suffered from this passion of a Tedesco for my daughter? I came
+here expecting your sympathy, and do you offer me reproach? Perhaps
+you think, sir"&mdash;here he turned again to his right-hand neighbour,
+who, in his anxiety to evade his pertinacious proximity, had
+half-wheeled his chair round, offering only his back to the
+argumentative forefinger&mdash;"perhaps you think, because I have
+consented, that I cannot condole with you, that I am not at one with
+you in lamenting this blot on our common 'scutcheon; perhaps you
+think"<span class="pagenum">[117]</span>&mdash;here he adroitly twisted his chair into argumentative
+position on the other side of the Councillor, rounding him like a
+cape&mdash;"that, because you have no sympathy with my tribulation, I have
+no sympathy with yours. But, if I have consented, it is only because
+it was the best I could do for my daughter. In my heart of hearts I
+have repudiated her, so that she may practically be considered an
+orphan, and, as such, a fit person to receive the marriage dowry
+bequeathed by Rodriguez Real, peace be upon him."</p>
+
+<p>"This is no laughing matter, sir," thundered the President, stung into
+forgetfulness of his dignity by thinking too much of it.</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed," said Manasseh sympathetically, wheeling to the right so
+as to confront the President, who went on stormily, "Are you aware,
+sir, of the penalties you risk by persisting in your course?"</p>
+
+<p>"I risk no penalties," replied the beggar.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! Then do you think anyone may trample with impunity upon our
+ancient <i>Ascamot</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Our ancient <i>Ascamot</i>!" repeated Manasseh in surprise. "What have
+they to say against a Sephardi marrying a Tedesco?"</p>
+
+<p>The audacity of the question rendered the Council breathless. Manasseh
+had to answer it himself.</p>
+
+<p>"They have nothing to say. There is no such <i>Ascama</i>." There was a
+moment of awful silence. It was as though he had disavowed the
+Decalogue.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you question the first principle of our constitution?" said the
+President at last, in low, ominous tones. "Do you deny that your
+daughter is a traitress? Do you&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ask your Chancellor," calmly interrupted Manasseh. "He is a
+Man-of-the-Earth, but he should know your<span class="pagenum">[118]</span> statutes, and he will tell
+you that my daughter's conduct is nowhere forbidden."</p>
+
+<p>"Silence, sir," cried the President testily. "Mr. Chancellor, read the
+<i>Ascama</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The Chancellor wriggled on his chair, his face flushing and paling by
+turns; all eyes were bent upon him in anxious suspense. He hemmed and
+ha'd and coughed, and took snuff, and blew his nose elaborately.</p>
+
+<p>"There is n-n-no express <i>Ascama</i>," he stuttered at last. Manasseh sat
+still, in unpretentious triumph.</p>
+
+<p>The Councillor who was now become his right-hand neighbour was the
+first to break the dazed silence, and it was his first intervention.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, it was never actually put into writing," he said in stern
+reproof. "It has never been legislated against, because it has never
+been conceived possible. These things are an instinct with every
+right-minded Sephardi. Have we ever legislated against marrying
+Christians?" Manasseh veered round half a point of the compass, and
+fixed the new opponent with his argumentative forefinger. "Certainly
+we have," he replied unexpectedly. "In Section XX., Paragraph II." He
+quoted the <i>Ascama</i> by heart, rolling out the sonorous Portuguese like
+a solemn indictment. "If our legislators had intended to prohibit
+intermarriage with the German community, they would have prohibited
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"There is the Traditional Law as well as the Written," said the
+Chancellor, recovering himself. "It is so in our holy religion, it is
+so in our constitution."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there are precedents assuredly," cried the President eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"There is the case of one of our Treasurers in the time of George
+II.," said the little Chancellor, blossoming under the sunshine of the
+President's encouragement, and naming the<span class="pagenum">[119]</span> ancestor of a Duchess of
+to-day. "He wanted to marry a beautiful German Jewess."</p>
+
+<p>"And was interdicted," said the President.</p>
+
+<p>"Hem!" coughed the Chancellor. "He&mdash;he was only permitted to marry her
+under humiliating conditions. The Elders forbade the attendance of the
+members of the House of Judgment, or of the Cantors; no celebration
+was to take place in the <i>Snoga</i>; no offerings were to be made for the
+bridegroom's health, nor was he even to receive the bridegroom's call
+to the reading of the Law."</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i034.jpg" width="237" height="289" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;&#39;HEM!&#39; COUGHED THE CHANCELLOR.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"But the Elders will not impose any such conditions on my son-in-law,"
+said Manasseh, skirting round another chair so as to bring his
+forefinger to play upon the Chief of the Elders, on whose left he had
+now arrived in his argumentative advances. "In the first place he is
+not one of us. His desire to join us is a compliment. If anyone has
+offended your traditions, it is my daughter. But then she is not a
+male, like the Treasurer cited; she is not an active agent, she has
+not gone out of her way to choose a Tedesco&mdash;she has been chosen. Your
+masculine precedents cannot touch her."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but we can touch you," said the contemporary<span class="pagenum">[120]</span> Treasurer,
+guffawing grimly. He sat opposite Manasseh, and next to the
+Chancellor.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it fines you are thinking of?" said Manasseh with a scornful
+glance across the table. "Very well, fine me&mdash;if you can afford it.
+You know that I am a student, a son of the Law, who has no resources
+but what you allow him. If you care to pay this fine it is your
+affair. There is always room in the poor-box. I am always glad to hear
+of fines. You had better make up your mind to the inevitable,
+gentlemen. Have I not had to do it? There is no <i>Ascama</i> to prevent my
+son-in-law having all the usual privileges&mdash;in fact, it was to ask
+that he might receive the bridegroom's call to the Law on the Sabbath
+before his marriage that I really came. By Section III., Paragraph I.,
+you are empowered to admit any person about to marry the daughter of a
+Yahid." Again the sonorous Portuguese rang out, thrilling the
+Councillors with all that quintessential awfulness of ancient statutes
+in a tongue not understood. It was not till a quarter of a century
+later that the <i>Ascamot</i> were translated into English, and from that
+moment their authority was doomed.</p>
+
+<p>The Chancellor was the first to recover from the quotation. Daily
+contact with these archaic sanctities had dulled his awe, and the
+President's impotent irritation spurred him to action.</p>
+
+<p>"But you are <i>not</i> a Yahid," he said quietly. "By Paragraph V. of the
+same section, any one whose name appears on the Charity List ceases to
+be a Yahid."</p>
+
+<p>"And a vastly proper law," said Manasseh with irony. "Everybody may
+vote but the <i>Schnorrer</i>." And, ignoring the Chancellor's point at
+great length, he remarked confidentially to the Chief of the Elders,
+at whose elbow he was still encamped, "It is curious how few of your
+Elders<span class="pagenum">[121]</span> perceive that those who take the charity are the pillars of
+the Synagogue. What keeps your community together? Fines. What ensures
+respect for your constitution? Fines. What makes every man do his
+duty? Fines. What rules this very Mahamad? Fines. And it is the poor
+who provide an outlet for all these moneys. Egad, do you think your
+members would for a moment tolerate your penalties, if they did not
+know the money was laid out in 'good deeds'? Charity is the salt of
+riches, says the Talmud, and, indeed, it is the salt that preserves
+your community."</p>
+
+<p>"Have done, sir, have done!" shouted the President, losing all regard
+for those grave amenities of the ancient Council Chamber which
+Manasseh did his best to maintain. "Do you forget to whom you are
+talking?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am talking to the Chief of the Elders," said Manasseh in a wounded
+tone, "but if you would like me to address myself to you&mdash;" and
+wheeling round the Chief of the Elders, he landed his chair next to
+the President's.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence, fellow!" thundered the President, shrinking spasmodically
+from his confidential contact. "You have no right to a voice at all;
+as the Chancellor has reminded us, you are not even a Yahid, a
+congregant."</p>
+
+<p>"Then the laws do not apply to me," retorted the beggar quietly. "It
+is only the Yahid who is privileged to do this, who is prohibited from
+doing that. No <i>Ascama</i> mentions the <i>Schnorrer</i>, or gives you any
+authority over him."</p>
+
+<p>"On the contrary," said the Chancellor, seeing the President
+disconcerted again, "he is bound to attend the weekday services. But
+this man hardly ever does, sir." "I <i>never</i> do," corrected Manasseh,
+with touching sadness. "That is another of the privileges I have to
+forego in order to take your charity; I cannot risk appearing to my
+Maker in the light of a mercenary."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[122]</span></p>
+
+<p>"And what prevents you taking your turn in the graveyard watches?"
+sneered the Chancellor.</p>
+
+<p>The antagonists were now close together, one on either side of the
+President of the Mahamad, who was wedged between the two bobbing,
+quarrelling figures, his complexion altering momently for the blacker,
+and his fingers working nervously.</p>
+
+<p>"What prevents me?" replied Manasseh. "My age. It would be a sin
+against heaven to spend a night in the cemetery. If the body-snatchers
+did come they might find a corpse to their hand in the watch-tower.
+But I do my duty&mdash;I always pay a substitute."</p>
+
+<p>"No doubt," said the Treasurer. "I remember your asking me for the
+money to keep an old man out of the cemetery. Now I see what you
+meant."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," began two others, "and I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Order, gentlemen, order," interrupted the President desperately, for
+the afternoon was flitting, the sun was setting, and the shadows of
+twilight were falling. "You must not argue with the man. Hark you, my
+fine fellow, we refuse to sanction this marriage; it shall not be
+performed by our ministers, nor can we dream of admitting your
+son-in-law as a Yahid."</p>
+
+<p>"Then admit him on your Charity List," said Manasseh.</p>
+
+<p>"We are more likely to strike <i>you</i> off! And, by gad!" cried the
+President, tattooing on the table with his whole fist, "if you don't
+stop this scandal instanter, we will send you howling."<span class="pagenum">[123]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i035.jpg" width="609" height="411" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;IF YOU DON&#39;T STOP THIS SCANDAL INSTANTER, WE WILL SEND YOU HOWLING!&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Is it excommunication you threaten?" said Manasseh, rising to his
+feet. There was a menacing glitter in his eye.</p>
+
+<p>"This scandal must be stopped," repeated the President, agitatedly
+rising in involuntary imitation.</p>
+
+<p>"Any member of the Mahamad could stop it in a twink<span class="pagenum">[124]</span>ling," said
+Manasseh sullenly. "You yourself, if you only chose."</p>
+
+<p>"If I only chose?" echoed the President enquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"If you only chose my daughter. Are you not a bachelor? I am convinced
+she could not say nay to anyone present&mdash;excepting the Chancellor.
+Only no one is really willing to save the community from this scandal,
+and so my daughter must marry as best she can. And yet, it is a
+handsome creature who would not disgrace even a house in Hackney."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh spoke so seriously that the President fumed the more. "Let
+her marry this Pole," he ranted, "and you shall be cut off from us in
+life and death. Alive, you shall worship without our walls, and dead
+you shall be buried 'behind the boards.'"</p>
+
+<p>"For the poor man&mdash;excommunication," said Manasseh in ominous
+soliloquy. "For the rich man&mdash;permission to marry the Tedesco of his
+choice."</p>
+
+<p>"Leave the room, fellow," vociferated the President. "You have heard
+our ultimatum!"</p>
+
+<p>But Manasseh did not quail.</p>
+
+<p>"And you shall hear mine," he said, with a quietness that was the more
+impressive for the President's fury. "Do not forget, Mr. President,
+that you and I owe allegiance to the same brotherhood. Do not forget
+that the power which made you can unmake you at the next election; do
+not forget that if I have no vote I have vast influence; that there is
+not a Yahid whom I do not visit weekly; that there is not a
+<i>Schnorrer</i> who would not follow me in my exile. Do not forget that
+there is another community to turn to&mdash;yes! that very Ashkenazic
+community you contemn&mdash;with the Treasurer of which I talked but just
+now; a community that waxes daily in wealth and greatness while you
+sleep in<span class="pagenum">[125]</span> your sloth." His tall form dominated the chamber, his head
+seemed to touch the ceiling. The Councillors sat dazed as amid a
+lightning-storm.</p>
+
+<p>"Jackanapes! Blasphemer! Shameless renegade!" cried the President,
+choking with wrath. And being already on his legs, he dashed to the
+bell and tugged at it madly, blanching the Chancellor's face with the
+perception of a lost opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i036.jpg" width="177" height="309" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;HE DASHED TO THE BELL.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not leave this chamber till I choose," said Manasseh,
+dropping stolidly into the nearest chair and folding his arms.</p>
+
+<p>At once a cry of horror and consternation rose from every throat,
+every man leapt threateningly to his feet, and Manasseh realised that
+he was throned on the alcoved arm-chair!</p>
+
+<p>But he neither blenched nor budged.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, keep your seats, gentlemen," he said quietly.</p>
+
+<p>The President, turning at the stir, caught sight of the <i>Schnorrer</i>,
+staggered and clutched at the mantel. The Councillors stood spellbound
+for an instant, while the Chancellor's eyes roved wildly round the
+walls, as if expecting the gold names to start from their panels. The
+beadle rushed in, terrified by the strenuous tintinnabulation, looked
+instinctively towards the throne for orders, then underwent
+petrifaction on the threshold, and stared speechless at Manasseh, what
+time the President, gasping like a landed<span class="pagenum">[126]</span> cod, vainly strove to utter
+the order for the beggar's expulsion.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't stare at me, Gomez," Manasseh cried imperiously. "Can't you see
+the President wants a glass of water?"</p>
+
+<p>The beadle darted a glance at the President, and, perceiving his
+condition, rushed out again to get the water.</p>
+
+<p>This was the last straw. To see his authority usurped as well as his
+seat maddened the poor President. For some seconds he strove to mouth
+an oath, embracing his supine Councillors as well as this beggar on
+horseback, but he produced only an inarticulate raucous cry, and
+reeled sideways. Manasseh sprang from his chair and caught the falling
+form in his arms. For one terrible moment he stood supporting it in a
+tense silence, broken only by the incoherent murmurs of the
+unconscious lips; then crying angrily, "Bestir yourselves, gentlemen,
+don't you see the President is ill?" he dragged his burden towards the
+table, and, aided by the panic-stricken Councillors, laid it flat
+thereupon, and threw open the ruffled shirt. He swept the Minute Book
+to the floor with an almost malicious movement, to make room for the
+President.</p>
+
+<p>The beadle returned with the glass of water, which he well-nigh
+dropped.</p>
+
+<p>"Run for a physician," Manasseh commanded, and throwing away the water
+carelessly, in the Chancellor's direction, he asked if anyone had any
+brandy. There was no response.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Mr. Chancellor," he said, "bring out your phial." And the
+abashed functionary obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>"Has any of you his equipage without?" Manasseh demanded next of the
+Mahamad.</p>
+
+<p>They had not, so Manasseh despatched the Chief of the Elders in quest
+of a sedan chair. Then there was nothing left but to await the
+physician.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[127]</span></p>
+
+<p>"You see, gentlemen, how insecure is earthly power," said the
+<i>Schnorrer</i> solemnly, while the President breathed stertorously, deaf
+to his impressive moralising. "It is swallowed up in an instant, as
+Lisbon was engulfed. Cursed are they who despise the poor. How is the
+saying of our sages verified&mdash;'The house that opens not to the poor
+opens to the physician.'" His eyes shone with unearthly radiance in
+the gathering gloom.</p>
+
+<p>The cowed assembly wavered before his words, like reeds before the
+wind, or conscience-stricken kings before fearless prophets.</p>
+
+<p>When the physician came he pronounced that the President had had a
+slight stroke of apoplexy, involving a temporary paralysis of the
+right foot. The patient, by this time restored to consciousness, was
+conveyed home in the sedan chair, and the Mahamad dissolved in
+confusion. Manasseh was the last to leave the Council Chamber. As he
+stalked into the corridor he turned the key in the door behind him
+with a vindictive twist. Then, plunging his hand into his
+breeches-pocket, he gave the beadle a crown, remarking genially, "You
+must have your usual perquisite, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>The beadle was moved to his depths. He had a burst of irresistible
+honesty. "The President gives me only half-a-crown," he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but he may not be able to attend the next meeting," said
+Manasseh. "And I may be away, too."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[128]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">SHOWING HOW THE KING ENRICHED THE SYNAGOGUE.</p>
+
+<p>The Synagogue of the Gates of Heaven was crowded&mdash;members, orphan
+boys, <i>Schnorrers</i>, all were met in celebration of the Sabbath. But
+the President of the Mahamad was missing. He was still inconvenienced
+by the effects of his stroke, and deemed it most prudent to pray at
+home. The Council of Five had not met since Manasseh had dissolved it,
+and so the matter of his daughter's marriage was left hanging, as
+indeed was not seldom the posture of matters discussed by Sephardic
+bodies. The authorities thus passive, Manasseh found scant difficulty
+in imposing his will upon the minor officers, less ready than himself
+with constitutional precedent. His daughter was to be married under
+the Sephardic canopy, and no jot of synagogual honour was to be bated
+the bridegroom. On this Sabbath&mdash;the last before the wedding&mdash;Yankel&eacute;
+was to be called to the Reading of the Law like a true-born
+Portuguese. He made his first appearance in the Synagogue of his
+bride's fathers with a feeling of solemn respect, not exactly due to
+Manasseh's grandiose references to the ancient temple. He had walked
+the courtyard with levity, half prepared, from previous experience of
+his intended father-in-law, to find the glories insubstantial. Their
+unexpected actuality awed him, and he was glad he was dressed in his
+best. His beaver hat, green trousers, and brown coat equalled him with
+the massive pillars, the gleaming candelabra, and the stately roof. Da
+Costa, for his part, had made no change in his attire; he dignified
+his shabby vestments, stuffing them with royal manhood, and wearing<span class="pagenum">[129]</span>
+his snuff-coloured over-garment like a purple robe. There was, in
+sooth, an official air about his habiliment, and to the worshippers it
+was as impressively familiar as the black stole and white bands of the
+Cantor. It seemed only natural that he should be called to the Reading
+first, quite apart from the fact that he was a <i>Cohen</i>, of the family
+of Aaron, the High Priest, a descent that, perhaps, lent something to
+the loftiness of his carriage.</p>
+
+<p>When the Minister intoned vigorously, "The good name, Manasseh, the
+son of Judah, the Priest, the man, shall arise to read in the Law,"
+every eye was turned with a new interest on the prospective
+father-in-law. Manasseh arose composedly, and, hitching his sliding
+prayer-shawl over his left shoulder, stalked to the reading platform,
+where he chanted the blessings with imposing flourishes, and stood at
+the Minister's right hand while his section of the Law was read from
+the sacred scroll. There was many a man of figure in the congregation,
+but none who became the platform better. It was beautiful to see him
+pay his respects to the scroll; it reminded one of the meeting of two
+sovereigns. The great moment, however, was when, the section being
+concluded, the Master Reader announced Manasseh's donations to the
+Synagogue. The financial statement was incorporated in a long
+Benediction, like a coin wrapped up in folds of paper. This was always
+a great moment, even when inconsiderable personalities were concerned,
+each man's generosity being the subject of speculation before and
+comment after. Manasseh, it was felt, would, although a mere
+<i>Schnorrer</i>, rise to the height of the occasion, and offer as much as
+seven and sixpence. The shrewder sort suspected he would split it up
+into two or three separate offerings, to give an air of inexhaustible
+largess.</p>
+
+<p>The shrewder sort were right and wrong, as is their habit.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[130]</span></p>
+
+<p>The Master Reader began his quaint formula, "May He who blessed our
+Fathers," pausing at the point where the Hebrew is blank for the
+amount. He span out the prefatory "Who vows"&mdash;the last note prolonging
+itself, like the vibration of a tuning-fork, at a literal pitch of
+suspense. It was a sensational halt, due to his forgetting the amounts
+or demanding corroboration at the eleventh hour, and the stingy often
+recklessly amended their contributions, panic-struck under the
+pressure of imminent publicity.</p>
+
+<p>"Who vows&mdash;" The congregation hung upon his lips. With his usual
+gesture of interrogation, he inclined his ear towards Manasseh's
+mouth, his face wearing an unusual look of perplexity; and those
+nearest the platform were aware of a little colloquy between the
+<i>Schnorrer</i> and the Master Reader, the latter bewildered and agitated,
+the former stately. The delay had discomposed the Master as much as it
+had whetted the curiosity of the congregation. He repeated:</p>
+
+<p>"Who vows&mdash;<i>cinco livras</i>"&mdash;he went on glibly without a pause&mdash;"for
+charity&mdash;for the life of Yankov ben Yitzchok, his son-in-law, &amp;c.,
+&amp;c." But few of the worshippers heard any more than the <i>cinco livras</i>
+(five pounds). A thrill ran through the building. Men pricked up their
+ears, incredulous, whispering one another. One man deliberately moved
+from his place towards the box in which sat the Chief of the Elders,
+the presiding dignitary in the absence of the President of the
+Mahamad.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't catch&mdash;how much was that?" he asked.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i037.jpg" width="294" height="312" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;I DIDN&#39;T CATCH.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Five pounds," said the Chief of the Elders shortly. He suspected an
+irreverent irony in the Beggar's contribution.</p>
+
+<p>The Benediction came to an end, but ere the hearers had time to
+realise the fact, the Master Reader had started on another. "May He
+who blessed our fathers!" he began,<span class="pagenum">[131]</span> in the strange traditional
+recitative. The wave of curiosity mounted again, higher than before.</p>
+
+<p>"Who vows&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The wave hung an instant, poised and motionless.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Cinco livras!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>The wave broke in a low murmur, amid which the Master imperturbably
+proceeded, "For oil&mdash;for the life of his daughter Deborah, &amp;c." When
+he reached the end there was a poignant silence.</p>
+
+<p>Was it to be <i>da capo</i> again?</p>
+
+<p>"May He who blessed our fathers!"</p>
+
+<p>The wave of curiosity surged once more, rising and subsiding with this
+ebb and flow of financial Benediction.</p>
+
+<p>"Who vows&mdash;<i>cinco livras</i>&mdash;for the wax candles."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[132]</span></p>
+
+<p>This time the thrill, the whisper, the flutter, swelled into a
+positive buzz. The gaze of the entire congregation was focussed upon
+the Beggar, who stood impassive in the blaze of glory. Even the orphan
+boys, packed in their pew, paused in their inattention to the Service,
+and craned their necks towards the platform. The veriest magnates did
+not thus play piety with five pound points. In the ladies' gallery the
+excitement was intense. The occupants gazed eagerly through the
+grille. One woman&mdash;a buxom dame of forty summers, richly clad and
+jewelled&mdash;had risen, and was tiptoeing frantically over the woodwork,
+her feather waving like a signal of distress. It was Manasseh's wife.
+The waste of money maddened her, each donation hit her like a poisoned
+arrow; in vain she strove to catch her spouse's eye. The air seemed
+full of gowns and toques and farthingales flaming away under her very
+nose, without her being able to move hand or foot in rescue; whole
+wardrobes perished at each Benediction. It was with the utmost
+difficulty she restrained herself from shouting down to her prodigal
+lord. At her side the radiant Deborah vainly tried to pacify her by
+assurances that Manasseh never intended to pay up.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i038.jpg" width="311" height="644" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;SHE STROVE TO CATCH HER SPOUSE&#39;S EYE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Who vows&mdash;" The Benediction had begun for a fourth time.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Cinco livras</i> for the Holy Land." And the sensation grew. "For the
+life of this holy congregation, &amp;c."</p>
+
+<p>The Master Reader's voice droned on impassively, interminably.</p>
+
+<p>The fourth Benediction was drawing to its close, when the beadle was
+seen to mount the platform and whisper in his ear. Only Manasseh
+overheard the message.</p>
+
+<p>"The Chief of the Elders says you must stop. This is mere mockery. The
+man is a <i>Schnorrer</i>, an impudent beggar."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[133]</span></p>
+
+<p>The beadle descended the steps, and after a moment of inaudible
+discussion with da Costa, the Master Reader lifted up his voice
+afresh.</p>
+
+<p>The Chief of the Elders frowned and clenched his praying-shawl
+angrily. It was a fifth Benediction! But the Reader's sing-song went
+on, for Manasseh's wrath was nearer than the magnate's.</p>
+
+<p>"Who vows&mdash;<i>cinco livras</i>&mdash;for the Captives&mdash;for the life of the Chief
+of the Elders!"</p>
+
+<p>The Chief bit his lip furiously at this delicate revenge; galled
+almost to frenzy by the aggravating foreboding that the congregation
+would construe his message as a solicitation of the polite attention.
+For it was of the amenities of the Synagogue for<span class="pagenum">[134]</span> rich people to
+present these Benedictions to one another. And so the endless stream
+of donatives flowed on, provoking the hearers to fever pitch. The very
+orphan boys forgot that this prolongation of the service was retarding
+their breakfasts indefinitely. Every warden, dignitary and official,
+from the President of the Mahamad down to the very Keeper of the Bath,
+was honoured by name in a special Benediction, the chief of Manasseh's
+weekly patrons were repaid almost in kind on this unique and festive
+occasion. Most of the congregation kept count of the sum total, which
+was mounting, mounting....</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there was a confusion in the ladies' gallery, cries, a babble
+of tongues. The beadle hastened upstairs to impose his authority. The
+rumour circulated that Mrs. da Costa had fainted and been carried out.
+It reached Manasseh's ears, but he did not move. He stood at his post,
+unfaltering, donating, blessing.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i039.jpg" width="245" height="325" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;MRS. DA COSTA HAD FAINTED.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Who vows&mdash;<i>cinco livras</i>&mdash;for the life of his wife, Sarah!" And a
+faint sardonic smile flitted across the Beggar's face.</p>
+
+<p>The oldest worshipper wondered if the record would be broken.
+Manasseh's benefactions were approaching thrillingly near the highest
+total hitherto reached by any one man upon any one occasion. Every
+brain was troubled by surmises. The Chief of the Elders, fuming
+impotently, was not alone in apprehending a blasphemous mockery; but
+the bulk imagined that the <i>Schnorrer</i> had come into property or had
+always been a man of substance, and was now taking this means of
+restoring to the Synagogue the funds he had drawn from it. And the
+fountain of Benevolence played on.</p>
+
+<p>The record figure was reached and left in the rear. When at length the
+poor Master Reader, sick unto death of the oft-repeated formula (which
+might just as well have covered<span class="pagenum">[135]</span> all the contributions the first time,
+though Manasseh had commanded each new Benediction as if by an
+after-thought), was allowed to summon the Levite who succeeded
+Manasseh, the Synagogue had been enriched by a hundred pounds. The
+last Benediction had been coupled with the name of the poorest
+<i>Schnorrer</i> present&mdash;an assertion and glorification of Manasseh's own
+order that put the coping-stone on this sensational memorial of the
+Royal Wedding. It was, indeed, a kingly munificence, a sovereign
+graciousness. Nay, before the Service was over, Manasseh even begged
+the Chief of the Elders to permit a special <i>Rogation</i> to be said for
+a sick person. The Chief, meanly snatching at this opportunity of
+reprisals, refused, till, learning that Manasseh alluded to the ailing
+President of the Mahamad, he collapsed ingloriously.</p>
+
+<p>But the real hero of the day was Yankel&eacute;, who shone chiefly by
+reflected light, but yet shone even more brilliantly than the
+Spaniard, for to him was added the double lustre of the bridegroom and
+the stranger, and he was the cause and centre of the sensation.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[136]</span></p>
+
+<p>His eyes twinkled continuously throughout.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, Manasseh fared forth to collect the hundred pounds!</p>
+
+<p>The day being Sunday, he looked to find most of his clients at home.
+He took Grobstock first as being nearest, but the worthy speculator
+and East India Director espied him from an upper window, and escaped
+by a back-door into Goodman's Fields&mdash;a prudent measure, seeing that
+the incredulous Manasseh ransacked the house in quest of him.
+Manasseh's manner was always a search-warrant.</p>
+
+<p>The King consoled himself by paying his next visit to a personage who
+could not possibly evade him&mdash;none other than the sick President of
+the Mahamad. He lived in Devonshire Square, in solitary splendour. Him
+Manasseh bearded in his library, where the convalescent was sorting
+his collection of prints. The visitor had had himself announced as a
+gentleman on synagogual matters, and the public-spirited President had
+not refused himself to the business. But when he caught sight of
+Manasseh, his puffy features were distorted, he breathed painfully,
+and put his hand to his hip.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i040.jpg" width="304" height="385" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;SORTING HIS COLLECTION OF PRINTS.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"You!" he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"Have a care, my dear sir! Have a care!" said Manasseh anxiously, as
+he seated himself. "You are still weak. To come to the point&mdash;for I
+would not care to distract too much a man indispensable to the
+community, who has already felt the hand of the Almighty for his
+treatment of the poor&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He saw that his words were having effect, for these prosperous pillars
+of the Synagogue were mightily superstitious under affliction, and he
+proceeded in gentler tones. "To come to the point, it is my duty to
+inform you (for I am the only man who is certain of it) that while you
+have been away our Synagogue has made a bad debt!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[137]</span></p>
+
+<p>"A bad debt!" An angry light leapt into the President's eyes. There
+had been an ancient practice of lending out the funds to members, and
+the President had always set his face against the survival of the
+policy. "It would not have been made had I been there!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed," admitted Manasseh. "You would have stopped it in its
+early stages. The Chief of the Elders tried, but failed."</p>
+
+<p>"The dolt!" cried the President. "A man without a backbone. How much
+is it?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[138]</span></p>
+
+<p>"A hundred pounds!"</p>
+
+<p>"A hundred pounds!" echoed the President, seriously concerned at this
+blot upon his year of office. "And who is the debtor?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am."</p>
+
+<p>"You! You have borrowed a hundred pounds, you&mdash;you jackanapes!"</p>
+
+<p>"Silence, sir! How dare you? I should leave this apartment at once,
+were it not that I cannot go without your apology. Never in my life
+have I borrowed a hundred pounds&mdash;nay, never have I borrowed one
+farthing. I am no borrower. If you are a gentleman, you will
+apologise!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry if I misunderstood," murmured the poor President, "but
+how, then, do you owe the money?"</p>
+
+<p>"How, then?" repeated Manasseh impatiently. "Cannot you understand
+that I have donated it to the Synagogue?"</p>
+
+<p>The President stared at him open-mouthed.</p>
+
+<p>"I vowed it yesterday in celebration of my daughter's marriage."</p>
+
+<p>The President let a sigh of relief pass through his open mouth. He was
+even amused a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is that all? It was like your deuced effrontery; but still, the
+Synagogue doesn't lose anything. There's no harm done."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that you say?" enquired Manasseh sternly. "Do you mean to say
+I am not to pay this money?"</p>
+
+<p>"How can you?"</p>
+
+<p>"How can I? I come to you and others like you to pay it for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! Nonsense!" said the President, beginning to lose his temper
+again. "We'll let it pass. There's no harm done."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[139]</span></p>
+
+<p>"And this is the President of the Mahamad!" soliloquised the
+<i>Schnorrer</i> in bitter astonishment. "This is the chief of our ancient,
+godly Council! What, sir! Do you hold words spoken solemnly in
+Synagogue of no account? Would you have me break my solemn vow? Do you
+wish to bring the Synagogue institutions into contempt? Do you&mdash;a man
+already once stricken by Heaven&mdash;invite its chastisement again?"</p>
+
+<p>The President had grown pale&mdash;his brain was reeling.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, ask its forgiveness, sir," went on the King implacably; "and
+make good this debt of mine in token of your remorse, as it is
+written, 'And repentance, and prayer, and <i>charity</i> avert the evil
+decree.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a penny!" cried the President, with a last gleam of lucidity, and
+strode furiously towards the bell-pull. Then he stood still in sudden
+recollection of a similar scene in the Council Chamber.</p>
+
+<p>"You need not trouble to ring for a stroke," said Manasseh grimly.
+"Then the Synagogue is to be profaned, then even the Benediction which
+I in all loyalty and forgiveness caused to be said for the recovery of
+the President of the Mahamad is to be null, a mockery in the sight of
+the Holy One, blessed be He!"</p>
+
+<p>The President tottered into his reading-chair.</p>
+
+<p>"How much did you vow on my behalf?"</p>
+
+<p>"Five pounds."</p>
+
+<p>The President precipitately drew out a pocket-book and extracted a
+crisp Bank of England note.</p>
+
+<p>"Give it to the Chancellor," he breathed, exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>"I am punished," quoth Manasseh plaintively as he placed it in his
+bosom. "I should have vowed ten for you." And he bowed himself out.</p>
+
+<p>In like manner did he collect other contributions that<span class="pagenum">[140]</span> day from
+Sephardic celebrities, pointing out that now a foreign Jew&mdash;Yankel&eacute; to
+wit&mdash;had been admitted to their communion, it behoved them to show
+themselves at their best. What a bad effect it would have on Yankel&eacute;
+if a Sephardi was seen to vow with impunity! First impressions were
+everything, and they could not be too careful. It would not do for
+Yankel&eacute; to circulate contumelious reports of them among his kin. Those
+who remonstrated with him over his extravagance he reminded that he
+had only one daughter, and he drew their attention to the favourable
+influence his example had had on the Saturday receipts. Not a man of
+those who came after him in the Reading had ventured to offer
+half-crowns. He had fixed the standard in gold for that day at least,
+and who knew what noble emulation he had fired for the future?</p>
+
+<p>Every man who yielded to Manasseh's eloquence was a step to reach the
+next, for Manasseh made a list of donors, and paraded it reproachfully
+before those who had yet to give. Withal, the most obstinate
+resistance met him in some quarters. One man&mdash;a certain Rodriques,
+inhabiting a mansion in Finsbury Circus&mdash;was positively rude.</p>
+
+<p>"If I came in a carriage, you'd soon pull out your ten-pound note for
+the Synagogue," sneered Manasseh, his blood boiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly I would," admitted Rodriques laughing. And Manasseh shook
+off the dust of his threshold in disdain.</p>
+
+<p>By reason of such rebuffs, his collection for the day only reached
+about thirty pounds, inclusive of the value of some depreciated
+Portuguese bonds which he good-naturedly accepted as though at par.</p>
+
+<p>Disgusted with the meanness of mankind, da Costa's genius devised more
+drastic measures. Having carefully<span class="pagenum">[141]</span> locked up the proceeds of Sunday's
+operations, and, indeed, nearly all his loose cash, in his safe, for,
+to avoid being put to expense, he rarely carried money on his person,
+unless he gathered it <i>en route</i>, he took his way to Bishopsgate
+Within, to catch the stage for Clapton. The day was bright, and he
+hummed a festive Synagogue tune as he plodded leisurely with his stick
+along the bustling, narrow pavements, bordered by costers' barrows at
+one edge, and by jagged houses, overhung by grotesque signboards, at
+the other, and thronged by cits in worsted hose.</p>
+
+<p>But when he arrived at the inn he found the coach had started. Nothing
+concerned, he ordered a post-chaise in a supercilious manner,
+criticising the horses, and drove to Clapton in style, drawn by a pair
+of spanking steeds, to the music of the postillion's horn. Very soon
+they drew out of the blocked roads, with their lumbering procession of
+carts, coaches, and chairs, and into open country, green with the
+fresh verdure of the spring. The chaise stopped at "The Red Cottage,"
+a pretty villa, whose fa&ccedil;ade was covered with Virginian creeper that
+blushed in the autumn. Manasseh was surprised at the taste with which
+the lawn was laid out in the Italian style, with grottoes and marble
+figures. The householder, hearing the windings of the horn, conceived
+himself visited by a person of quality, and sent a message that he was
+in the hands of his hairdresser, but would be down in less than half
+an hour. This was of a piece with Manasseh's information concerning
+the man&mdash;a certain Belasco, emulous of the great fops, an amateur of
+satin waistcoats and novel shoestrings, and even said to affect a
+spying-glass when he showed at Vauxhall. Manasseh had never seen him,
+not having troubled to go so far afield, but from the handsome
+appurtenances of the hall and the staircase he augured the best. The
+apartments were even more<span class="pagenum">[142]</span> to his liking; they were oak panelled, and
+crammed with the most expensive objects of art and luxury. The walls
+of the drawing-room were frescoed, and from the ceiling depended a
+brilliant lustre, with seven spouts for illumination.</p>
+
+<p>Having sufficiently examined the furniture, Manasseh grew weary of
+waiting, and betook himself to Belasco's bedchamber.</p>
+
+<p>"You will excuse me, Mr. Belasco," he said, as he entered through the
+half open door, "but my business is urgent."</p>
+
+<p>The young dandy, who was seated before a mirror, did not look up, but
+replied, "Have a care, sir, you well nigh startled my hairdresser."</p>
+
+<p>"Far be it from me to willingly discompose an artist," replied
+Manasseh drily, "though from the elegance of the design, I venture to
+think my interruption will not make a hair's-breadth of difference.
+But I come on a matter which the son of Benjamin Belasco will hardly
+deny is more pressing than his toilette."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay, sir, what can be more momentous?"</p>
+
+<p>"The Synagogue!" said Manasseh austerely.</p>
+
+<p>"Pah! What are you talking of, sir?" and he looked up cautiously for
+the first time at the picturesque figure. "What does the Synagogue
+want of me? I pay my <i>finta</i> and every bill the rascals send me.
+Monstrous fine sums, too, egad&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you never go there!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed, a man of fashion cannot be everywhere. Routs and rigotti
+play the deuce with one's time."</p>
+
+<p>"What a pity!" mused Manasseh ironically. "One misses you there. 'Tis
+no edifying spectacle&mdash;a slovenly rabble with none to set the standard
+of taste."</p>
+
+<p>The pale-faced beau's eyes lit up with a gleam of interest.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, the clods!" he said. "You should yourself be a<span class="pagenum">[143]</span> buck of the
+eccentric school by your dress. But I stick to the old tradition of
+elegance."</p>
+
+<p>"You had better stick to the old tradition of piety," quoth Manasseh.
+"Your father was a saint, you are a sinner in Israel. Return to the
+Synagogue, and herald your return by contributing to its finances. It
+has made a bad debt, and I am collecting money to reimburse it."</p>
+
+<p>The young exquisite yawned. "I know not who you may be," he said at
+length, "but you are evidently not one of us. As for the Synagogue I
+am willing to reform its dress, but dem'd if I will give a shilling
+more to its finances. Let your slovenly rabble of tradesmen pay the
+piper&mdash;I cannot afford it!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> cannot afford it!"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;you see I have such extravagant tastes."</p>
+
+<p>"But I give you the opportunity for extravagance," expostulated
+Manasseh. "What greater luxury is there than that of doing good?"</p>
+
+<p>"Confound it, sir, I must ask you to go," said Beau Belasco coldly.
+"Do you not perceive that you are disconcerting my hairdresser?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could not abide a moment longer under this profane, if tasteful,
+roof," said Manasseh, backing sternly towards the door. "But I would
+make one last appeal to you, for the sake of the repose of your
+father's soul, to forsake your evil ways."</p>
+
+<p>"Be hanged to you for a meddler," retorted the young blood. "My money
+supports men of genius and taste&mdash;it shall not be frittered away on a
+pack of fusty shopkeepers."</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Schnorrer</i> drew himself up to his full height, his eyes darted
+fire. "Farewell, then!" he hissed in terrible tones. "<i>You will make
+the third at Grace!</i>"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i041.jpg" width="423" height="291" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;FAREWELL!&#39; HE HISSED.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He vanished&mdash;the dandy started up full of vague alarm,<span class="pagenum">[144]</span> forgetting
+even his hair in the mysterious menace of that terrifying sibilation.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean," said Manasseh, reappearing at the door, "that since the
+world was created, only two men have taken their clothes with them to
+the world to come. One was Korah, who was swallowed down, the other
+was Elijah, who was borne aloft. It is patent in which direction the
+third will go."</p>
+
+<p>The sleeping chord of superstition vibrated under Manasseh's dexterous
+touch.</p>
+
+<p>"Rejoice, O young man, in your strength," went on the Beggar, "but a
+day will come when only the corpse-watchers will perform your
+toilette. In plain white they will dress you, and the devil shall
+never know what a dandy you were."</p>
+
+<p>"But who are you, that I should give you money for the<span class="pagenum">[145]</span> Synagogue?"
+asked the Beau sullenly. "Where are your credentials?"</p>
+
+<p>"Was it to insult me that you called me back? Do I look a knave? Nay,
+put up your purse. I'll have none of your filthy gold. Let me go."</p>
+
+<p>Gradually Manasseh was won round to accepting ten sovereigns.</p>
+
+<p>"For your father's sake," he said, pocketing them. "The only thing I
+will take for your sake is the cost of my conveyance. I had to post
+hither, and the Synagogue must not be the loser."</p>
+
+<p>Beau Belasco gladly added the extra money, and reseated himself before
+the mirror, with agreeable sensations in his neglected conscience.
+"You see," he observed, half apologetically, for Manasseh still
+lingered, "one cannot do everything. To be a prince of dandies, one
+needs all one's time." He waved his hand comprehensively around the
+walls which were lined with wardrobes. "My buckskin breeches were the
+result of nine separate measurings. Do you note how they fit?"</p>
+
+<p>"They scarcely do justice to your eminent reputation," replied
+Manasseh candidly.</p>
+
+<p>Beau Belasco's face became whiter than even at the thought of
+earthquakes and devils. "They fit me to bursting!" he breathed.</p>
+
+<p>"But are they in the pink of fashion?" queried Manasseh. "And
+assuredly the nankeen pantaloons yonder I recollect to have seen worn
+last year."</p>
+
+<p>"My tailor said they were of a special cut&mdash;'tis a shape I am
+introducing, baggy&mdash;to go with frilled shirts."</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh shook his head sceptically, whereupon the Beau besought him
+to go through his wardrobe, and set aside anything that lacked
+originality or extreme fashionableness.<span class="pagenum">[146]</span> After considerable reluctance
+Manasseh consented, and set aside a few cravats, shirts, periwigs, and
+suits from the immense collection.</p>
+
+<p>"Aha! That is all you can find," said the Beau gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that is all," said Manasseh sadly. "All I can find that does any
+justice to your fame. These speak the man of polish and invention; the
+rest are but tawdry frippery. Anybody might wear them."</p>
+
+<p>"Anybody!" gasped the poor Beau, stricken to the soul.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I might wear them myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you! Thank you! You are an honest man. I love true criticism,
+when the critic has nothing to gain. I am delighted you called. These
+rags shall go to my valet."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, why waste them on the heathen?" asked Manasseh, struck with a
+sudden thought. "Let me dispose of them for the benefit of the
+Synagogue."</p>
+
+<p>"If it would not be troubling you too much!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is there anything I would not do for Heaven?" said Manasseh with a
+patronising air. He threw open the door of the adjoining piece
+suddenly, disclosing the scowling valet on his knees. "Take these
+down, my man," he said quietly, and the valet was only too glad to
+hide his confusion at being caught eavesdropping by hastening down to
+the drive with an armful of satin waistcoats.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i042.jpg" width="250" height="350" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;THE SCOWLING VALET ON HIS KNEES.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh, getting together the remainder, shook his head despairingly.
+"I shall never get these into the post-chaise," he said. "You will
+have to lend me your carriage."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't you come back for them?" said the Beau feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"Why waste the Synagogue's money on hired vehicles? No, if you will
+crown your kindness by sending the footman along with me to help me
+unpack them, you shall have your equipage back in an hour or two."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[147]</span></p>
+
+<p>So the carriage and pair were brought out, and Manasseh, pressing into
+his service the coachman, the valet, and the footman, superintended
+the packing of the bulk of Beau Belasco's wardrobe into the two
+vehicles. Then he took his seat in the carriage, the coachman and the
+gorgeous powdered footman got into their places, and with a joyous
+fanfaronade on the horn, the procession set off, Manasseh bowing
+graciously to the master of "The Red House," who was waving his
+beruffled hand from a window embowered in greenery. After a pleasant
+drive, the vehicles halted at the house, guarded by stone lions, in
+which dwelt Nathaniel Furtado, the wealthy private dealer, who
+willingly gave fifteen pounds for the buck's belaced and embroidered
+vestments, besides being inveigled into a donation of a guinea towards
+the Synagogue's bad debt. Manasseh thereupon dismissed the chaise with
+a handsome gratuity, and drove in state in the now-empty carriage,
+attended by the powdered footman, to Finsbury Circus, to the mansion
+of Rodriques. "I have come for my ten pounds," he said, and reminded
+him of his promise (?). Rodriques laughed, and swore, and laughed<span class="pagenum">[148]</span>
+again, and swore that the carriage was hired, to be paid for out of
+the ten pounds.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i043.jpg" width="421" height="284" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;DROVE IN STATE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Hired?" echoed Manasseh resentfully. "Do you not recognise the arms
+of my friend, Beau Belasco?" And he presently drove off with the note,
+for Rodriques had a roguish eye. And then, parting with the chariot,
+the King took his way on foot to Fenchurch Street, to the house of his
+cousin Barzillai, the ex-planter of Barbadoes, and now a West Indian
+merchant.</p>
+
+<p>Barzillai, fearing humiliation before his clerks, always carried his
+relative off to the neighbouring Franco's Head Tavern, and humoured
+him with costly liquors.</p>
+
+<p>"But you had no right to donate money you did not possess; it was
+dishonest," he cried with irrepressible ire.</p>
+
+<p>"Hoity toity!" said Manasseh, setting down his glass so vehemently
+that the stem shivered. "And were you not called to the Law after me?
+And did you not donate money?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly! But I <i>had</i> the money."</p>
+
+<p>"What! <i>With</i> you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, certainly not. I do not carry money on the Sabbath."</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly. Neither do I."</p>
+
+<p>"But the money was at my bankers'."</p>
+
+<p>"And so it was at mine. <i>You</i> are my bankers, you and others like you.
+You draw on your bankers&mdash;I draw on mine." And his cousin being thus
+confuted, Manasseh had not much further difficulty in wheedling two
+pounds ten out of him.</p>
+
+<p>"And now," said he, "I really think you ought to do something to
+lessen the Synagogue's loss."</p>
+
+<p>"But I have just given!" quoth Barzillai in bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That</i> you gave to me as your cousin, to enable your<span class="pagenum">[149]</span> relative to
+discharge his obligations. I put it strictly on a personal footing.
+But now I am pleading on behalf of the Synagogue, which stands to lose
+heavily. You are a Sephardi as well as my cousin. It is a distinction
+not unlike the one I have so often to explain to you. You owe me
+charity, not only as a cousin, but as a <i>Schnorrer</i> likewise." And,
+having wrested another guinea from the obfuscated merchant, he
+repaired to Grobstock's business office in search of the defaulter.</p>
+
+<p>But the wily Grobstock, forewarned by Manasseh's promise to visit him,
+and further frightened by his Sunday morning call, had denied himself
+to the <i>Schnorrer</i> or anyone remotely resembling him, and it was not
+till the afternoon that Manasseh ran him to earth at Sampson's
+coffee-house in Exchange Alley, where the brokers foregathered,<span class="pagenum">[150]</span> and
+'prentices and students swaggered in to abuse the Ministers, and all
+kinds of men from bloods to barristers loitered to pick up hints to
+easy riches. Manasseh detected his quarry in the furthermost box, his
+face hidden behind a broadsheet.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i044.jpg" width="409" height="607" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;HIS FACE HIDDEN BEHIND A BROADSHEET.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you always come to me?" muttered the East India Director
+helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh?" said Manasseh, mistrustful of his own ears. "I beg your pardon."</p>
+
+<p>"If your own community cannot support you," said Grobstock, more
+loudly, and with all the boldness of an animal driven to bay, "why not
+go to Abraham Goldsmid, or his brother Ben, or to Van Oven, or
+Oppenheim&mdash;they're all more prosperous than I."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir!" said Manasseh wrathfully. "You are a skilful&mdash;nay, a famous,
+financier. You know what stocks to buy, what stocks to sell, when to
+follow a rise, and when a fall. When the Premier advertises the loans,
+a thousand speculators look to you for guidance. What would you say if
+<i>I</i> presumed to interfere in your financial affairs&mdash;if I told you to
+issue these shares or to call in those? You would tell me to mind my
+own business; and you would be perfectly right. Now <i>Schnorring</i> is
+<i>my</i> business. Trust me, I know best whom to come to. You stick to
+stocks and leave <i>Schnorring</i> alone. You are the King of Financiers,
+but I am the King of <i>Schnorrers</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock's resentment at the rejoinder was mitigated by the
+compliment to his financial insight. To be put on the same level with
+the Beggar was indeed unexpected.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you have a cup of coffee?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I ought scarcely to drink with you after your reception of me,"
+replied Manasseh unappeased. "It is not even as if I came to <i>schnorr</i>
+for myself; it is to the finances<span class="pagenum">[151]</span> <span class="pagenum">[152]</span>of our house of worship that I
+wished to give you an opportunity of contributing."</p>
+
+<p>"Aha! your vaunted community hard up?" queried Joseph, with a
+complacent twinkle.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir! We are the richest congregation in the world. We want nothing
+from anybody," indignantly protested Manasseh, as he absent-mindedly
+took the cup of coffee which Grobstock had ordered for him. "The
+difficulty merely is that, in honour of my daughter's wedding, I have
+donated a hundred pounds to the Synagogue which I have not yet managed
+to collect, although I have already devoted a day-and-a-half of my
+valuable time to the purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"But why do you come to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"What! Do you ask me that again?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;mean," stammered Grobstock&mdash;"why should I contribute to a
+Portuguese Synagogue?"</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh clucked his tongue in despair of such stupidity. "It is just
+you who should contribute more than any Portuguese."</p>
+
+<p>"I?" Grobstock wondered if he was awake.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you. Was not the money spent in honour of the marriage of a
+German Jew? It was a splendid vindication of your community."</p>
+
+<p>"This is too much!" cried Grobstock, outraged and choking.</p>
+
+<p>"Too much to mark the admission to our fold of the first of your sect!
+I am disappointed in you, deeply disappointed. I thought you would
+have applauded my generous behaviour."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care what you thought!" gasped Grobstock. He was genuinely
+exasperated at the ridiculousness of the demand, but he was also
+pleased to find himself preserving so staunch a front against the
+insidious <i>Schnorrer</i>. If<span class="pagenum">[153]</span> he could only keep firm now, he told
+himself, he might emancipate himself for ever. Yes, he would be
+strong, and Manasseh should never dare address him again. "I won't pay
+a stiver," he roared.</p>
+
+<p>"If you make a scene I will withdraw," said Manasseh quietly. "Already
+there are ears and eyes turned upon you. From your language people
+will be thinking me a dun and you a bankrupt."</p>
+
+<p>"They can go to the devil!" thundered Grobstock, "and you too!"</p>
+
+<p>"Blasphemer! You counsel me to ask the devil to contribute to the
+Synagogue! I will not bandy words with you. You refuse, then, to
+contribute to this fund?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do, I see no reason."</p>
+
+<p>"Not even the five pounds I vowed on behalf of Yankel&eacute; himself&mdash;one of
+your own people?"</p>
+
+<p>"What! I pay in honour of Yankel&eacute;&mdash;a dirty <i>Schnorrer</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Is this the way you speak of your guests?" said Manasseh, in pained
+astonishment. "Do you forget that Yankel&eacute; has broken bread at your
+table? Perhaps this is how you talk of me when my back is turned. But,
+beware! Remember the saying of our sages, 'You and I cannot live in
+the world,' said God to the haughty man. Come, now! No more paltering
+or taking refuge in abuse. You refuse me this beggarly five pounds?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most decidedly."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, then!"</p>
+
+<p>Manasseh called the attendant.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you about to do?" cried Grobstock apprehensively.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall see," said Manasseh resolutely, and when the attendant
+came, he pressed the price of his cup of coffee into his hand.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[154]</span></p>
+
+<p>Grobstock flushed in silent humiliation. Manasseh rose.</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock's fatal strain of weakness gave him a twinge of compunction
+at the eleventh hour.</p>
+
+<p>"You see for yourself how unreasonable your request was," he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not strive to justify yourself, I am done with you," said
+Manasseh. "I am done with you as a philanthropist. For the future you
+may besnuff and bespatter your coat as much as you please, for all the
+trouble I shall ever take. As a financier, I still respect you, and
+may yet come to you, but as a philanthropist, never."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything I can do&mdash;" muttered Grobstock vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see!" said Manasseh, looking down upon him thoughtfully. "Ah,
+yes, an idea! I have collected over sixty pounds. If you would invest
+this for me&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, certainly," interrupted Grobstock, with conciliatory
+eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"Good! With your unrivalled knowledge of the markets, you could easily
+bring it up to the necessary sum in a day or two. Perhaps even there
+is some grand <i>coup</i> on the <i>tapis</i>, something to be bulled or beared
+in which you have a hand."</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock nodded his head vaguely. He had already remembered that the
+proceeding was considerably below his dignity; he was not a
+stockbroker, never had he done anything of the kind for anyone.</p>
+
+<p>"But suppose I lose it all?" he asked, trying to draw back.</p>
+
+<p>"Impossible," said the <i>Schnorrer</i> serenely. "Do you forget it is a
+Synagogue fund? Do you think the Almighty will suffer His money to be
+lost?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then why not speculate yourself?" said Grobstock craftily.</p>
+
+<p>"The Almighty's honour must be guarded. What!<span class="pagenum">[155]</span> Shall He be less well
+served than an earthly monarch? Do you think I do not know your
+financial relations with the Court? The service of the Almighty
+demands the best men. I was the best man to collect the money&mdash;you are
+the best to invest it. To-morrow morning it shall be in your hands."</p>
+
+<p>"No, don't trouble," said Grobstock feebly. "I don't need the actual
+money to deal with."</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i045.jpg" width="238" height="294" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;STRUCK THE CHANCELLOR BREATHLESS.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"I thank you for your trust in me," replied Manasseh with emotion.
+"Now you speak like yourself again. I withdraw what I said to you. I
+<i>will</i> come to you again&mdash;to the philanthropist no less than
+financier. And&mdash;and I am sorry I paid for my coffee." His voice
+quivered.</p>
+
+<p>Grobstock was touched. He took out a sixpence and repaid his guest
+with interest. Manasseh slipped the coin into his pocket, and shortly
+afterwards, with some final admonitions to his stock-jobber, took his
+leave.</p>
+
+<p>Being in for the job, Grobstock resolved to make the best of it. His
+latent vanity impelled him to astonish the Beggar. It happened that he
+<i>was</i> on the point of a magnificent man&oelig;uvre, and alongside his own
+triton Manasseh's minnow might just as well swim. He made the sixty
+odd pounds into six hundred.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[156]</span></p>
+
+<p>A few days after the Royal Wedding, the glories of which are still a
+tradition among the degenerate <i>Schnorrers</i> of to-day, Manasseh struck
+the Chancellor breathless by handing him a bag containing five score
+of sovereigns. Thus did he honourably fulfil his obligation to the
+Synagogue, and with more celerity than many a Warden. Nay, more!
+Justly considering the results of the speculation should accrue to the
+Synagogue, whose money had been risked, he, with Quixotic
+scrupulousness, handed over the balance of five hundred pounds to the
+Mahamad, stipulating only that it should be used to purchase a
+life-annuity (styled the Da Costa Fund) for a poor and deserving
+member of the congregation, in whose selection he, as donor, should
+have the ruling voice. The Council of Five eagerly agreed to his
+conditions, and a special junta was summoned for the election. The
+donor's choice fell upon Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa,
+thenceforward universally recognised, and hereby handed down to
+tradition, as the King of <i>Schnorrers</i>.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[157]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="The_Semi-Sentimental_Dragon"><i>The Semi-Sentimental Dragon.</i></h2>
+
+<div class="i046">
+
+<div id="i04601">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="i04602">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<p>There was nothing about the outside of the Dragon to indicate so large
+a percentage of sentiment. It was a mere every-day Dragon, with the
+usual squamous hide, glittering like silver armour, a commonplace
+crested head with a forked tongue, a tail like a barbed arrow, a pair
+of fan-shaped wings, and four indifferently ferocious claws, one per
+foot. How it came to be so susceptible you shall hear, and then,
+perhaps, you will be less surprised at its unprecedented and
+undragonlike behaviour.</p>
+
+<p>Once upon a time, as the good old chronicler, Richard Johnson,
+relateth, Egypt was oppressed by a Dragon who made a plaguy to-do
+unless given a virgin daily for dinner. For twenty-four years the menu
+was practicable; then the supply gave out. There was absolutely no
+virgin left in the realm save Sabra, the king's daughter. As 365 &times; 24
+only = 8760, I suspect that the girls were anxious to dodge the Dragon
+by marrying in haste. The government of the day seems to have been
+quite unworthy of confidence and utterly unable to grapple with the
+situation, and poor Ptolemy was reduced to parting with the Princess,
+though even so destruction was only staved off for a day, as virgins
+would be<span class="pagenum">[158]</span> altogether "off" on the morrow. So short-sighted was the
+Egyptian policy that this does not appear to have occurred to anybody.
+At the last moment an English tourist from Coventry, known as George
+(and afterwards sainted by an outgoing administration sent to his
+native borough by the country), resolved to tackle the monster. The
+chivalrous Englishman came to grief in the encounter, but by rolling
+under an orange tree he was safe from the Dragon so long as he chose
+to stay there, and so in the end had no difficulty in despatching the
+creature; which suggests that the soothsayers and the magicians would
+have been much better occupied in planting orange trees than in
+sacrificing virgins. Thus far the story, which is improbable enough to
+be an allegory.</p>
+
+</div> <!-- class="i046" -->
+
+<p>Now many centuries after these events did not happen, a certain worthy
+citizen, an illiterate fellow, but none the worse for that, made them
+into a pantomime&mdash;to wit, <i>St. George and the Dragon; or, Harlequin
+Tom Thumb</i>. And the same was duly played at a provincial theatre, with
+a lightly clad chorus of Egyptian lasses, in glaring contradiction of
+the dearth of such in the fable, and a Sabra who sang to them a
+topical song about the County Council.</p>
+
+<p>Curiously enough, in private life, Sabra, although her name was Miss
+on the posters, was really a Miss. She was quite as young and pretty
+as she looked, too, and only rouged herself for the sake of stage
+perspective. I don't mean to say she was as beautiful as the Egyptian
+princess, who was as straight as a cedar and wore her auburn hair in
+wanton ringlets, but she was a sprightly little body with sparkling
+eyes and a complexion that would have been a good advertisement to any
+soap on earth. But better than Sabra's skin was Sabra's heart, which
+though as yet untouched by man was full of love and tenderness, and
+did not faint under the burden of supporting her mother and<span class="pagenum">[159]</span> the
+household. For instead of having a king for a sire, Sabra had a
+drunken scene-shifter for a father. Everybody about the theatre liked
+Sabra, from the actor-manager (who played St. George) to the stage
+door-keeper (who played St. Peter). Even her under-study did not wish
+her ill.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i047.jpg" width="402" height="446" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;INSTEAD OF HAVING A KING FOR A SIRE, SABRA HAD A DRUNKEN SCENE-SHIFTER FOR A FATHER.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[160]</span></p>
+
+<p>Needless, therefore, to say it was Sabra who made the Dragon
+semi-sentimental. Not in the "book," of course, where his desire to
+eat her remained purely literal. Real Dragons keep themselves aloof
+from sentiment, but a stage Dragon is only human. Such a one may be
+entirely the slave of sentiment, and it was perhaps to the credit of
+our Dragon that only half of him was in the bonds. The other half&mdash;and
+that the better half&mdash;was saturnine and teetotal, and answered to the
+name of Davie Brigg.</p>
+
+<p>Davie was the head man on the Dragon. He played the anterior parts,
+waggled the head and flapped the wings and sent gruesome grunts and
+penny squibs through the "firebreathing" jaws. He was a dour
+middle-aged, but stagestruck, Scot, very proud of his rapid rise in
+the profession, for he had begun as a dramatist.</p>
+
+<p>The rear of the Dragon was simply known as Jimmy.</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy was a wreck. His past was a mystery. His face was a brief record
+of baleful experiences, and he had the aspirates of a gentleman. He
+had gone on the stage to be out of the snow and the rain. Not knowing
+this, the actor-manager paid him ninepence a night. His wages just
+kept him in beer-money. The original Sabra tamed two lions, but
+perhaps it was a greater feat to tame this half of a Dragon.</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy's tenderness for Sabra began at rehearsal, when he saw a good
+deal of her, and felicitated himself on the fact that they were on in
+the same scenes. After a while, however, he perceived this to be a
+doleful drawback, for whereas at rehearsal he could jump out of his
+skin and breathe himself and feast his eyes on Sabra when the Dragon
+was disengaged, on the stage he was forced to remain cramped in
+darkness while Ptolemy was clowning or St. George executing a step
+dance. Sabra was invisible, except for an odd<span class="pagenum">[161]</span> moment or so between
+the scenes when he caught sight of her gliding to her dressing-room
+like a streak of discreet sunshine. Still he had his compensations;
+her dulcet notes reached his darkness (mellowed by the painted canvas
+and the tin scales sewn over it), as the chant of the unseen cuckoo
+reaches the woodland wanderer. Sometimes, when she sang that song
+about the County Council, he forgot to wag his tail.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i048.jpg" width="414" height="257" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;SOMETIMES, WHEN SHE SANG THAT SONG ABOUT THE COUNTY COUNCIL, HE FORGOT TO WAG HIS TAIL.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Thus was Love blind, while Indifference in the person of Davie Brigg
+looked its full through the mask that stood for the monster's head.
+After a bit Jimmy conceived a mad envy of his superior's privileges;
+he longed to see Sabra through the Dragon's mouth. He was so weary of
+the little strip of stage under the Dragon's belly, which, even if he
+peered through the breathing-holes in the patch of paint-disguised
+gauze let into its paunch, was the most he could see. One night he
+asked Davie to change places with him.<span class="pagenum">[162]</span> Davie's look of surprise and
+consternation was beautiful to see.</p>
+
+<p>"Do I hear aricht?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Just for a night," said Jimmy, abashed.</p>
+
+<p>"But d'ye no ken this is a speakin' part?"</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i049.jpg" width="240" height="380" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;&#39;BUT D&#39;YE NO KEN<br />THIS A SPEAKIN&#39; PART?&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"I did&mdash;not&mdash;know&mdash;that," faltered Jimmy.</p>
+
+<p>"Where's your ears, mon?" inquired Davie sternly. "Dinna ye hear me
+growlin' and grizzlin' and squealin' and skirlin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Y&mdash;e&mdash;s," said Jimmy. "But I thought you did it at random."</p>
+
+<p>"Thocht I did it at random!" cried Davie, holding up his hands in
+horror. "And mebbe also ye thocht onybody could do't!"</p>
+
+<p>Jimmy's shamed silence gave consent also to this unflinching
+interpretation of his thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah weel!" said Davie, with melancholy resignation, "this is the
+artist's reward for his sweat and labour. Why, mon, let me tell ye,
+ilka note is not ainly timed but modulatit to the dramatic eenterest
+o' the moment, and that I hae practised the squeak hours at a time wi'
+a bagpiper. Tak' my place, indeed! Are ye fou again, or hae ye tint
+your senses?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you could do the words all the same. I only want to see for
+once."</p>
+
+<p>"And how d'ye think the words should sound, coming from the creature's
+belly? And what should ye see! You should nae ken where to go, I
+warrant. Come, I'll spier ye. Where d'ye come in for the fight with
+St. George&mdash;is it R 2 E or L U E?"</p>
+
+<p>"L U E," replied Jimmy feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye donnered auld runt!" cried Davie triumphantly. "'Tis neither one
+nor t'other. 'Tis R C. Why, ye're capable of deein' up stage instead
+of down! Ye'd spoil my<span class="pagenum">[163]</span> great scene. And ye are to remember I wad bear
+the wyte for 't, for naebody but our two sel's should ken the truth.
+Nay, nay, my mon. I hae my responsibeelities to the management. Ye're
+all verra weel in a subordinate position, but dinna ye aspire to more
+than beseems your abeelities. I am richt glad ye spoke me. Eh, but it
+would be an awfu' thing if I was taken bad and naebody to play the
+part. I'll warn the manager to put on an under-study betimes."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but let <i>me</i> be the under-study, then," pleaded Jimmy.</p>
+
+<p>Davie sniffed scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis a braw thing, ambeetion," he said, "but there's a proverb about
+it ye ken, mebbe."</p>
+
+<p>"But I'll notice everything you do, and exactly how you do it!"</p>
+
+<p>Davie relented a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, weel," he said cautiously, "I'll bide a wee before speaking to
+the manager."</p>
+
+<p>But Davie remained doggedly robust, and so Jimmy still walked in
+darkness. He often argued the matter out with his superior,
+maintaining that they ought to toss for the<span class="pagenum">[164]</span> position&mdash;head or tail.
+Failing to convince Davie, he offered him fourpence a night for the
+accommodation, but Davie saw in this extravagance evidence of a
+determined design to supplant him. In despair Jimmy watched for a
+chance of slipping into the wire framework before Davie, but the
+conscientious artist was always at his post first. They held dialogues
+on the subject, while with pantomimic license the chorus of Egyptian
+lasses was dancing round the Dragon as if it were a maypole. Their
+angry messages to each other vibrated along the wires of their
+prison-house, rending the Dragon with intestinal war. Weave your
+cloud-wrought Utopias, O social reformer, but wherever men inhabit,
+there jealousy and disunion shall creep in, and this gaudy canvas tent
+with its tin roofing was a hotbed of envy, hatred, and all
+uncharitableness. Yet Love was there, too&mdash;a stranger, purer passion
+than the battered Jimmy had ever known; for it had the unselfishness
+of a love that can never be more than a dream, that the beloved can
+never even know of. Perhaps, if Jimmy had met Sabra before he left off
+being a gentleman&mdash;!</p>
+
+<p>The silent, hopeless longing, the chivalrous devotion yearning dumbly
+within him, did not stop his beer; he drank more to drown his
+thoughts. Every night he entered into his part gladly, knowing himself
+elevated in the zoological scale, not degraded, by an assumption that
+made him only half a beast. It was kind of Providence to hide him
+wholly away from her vision, so that her bright eyes might not be
+sullied by the sight of his foulness. None of the grinning audience
+suspected the tragedy of the hind legs of the Dragon, as blindly
+following their leader, they went "galumphing" about the stage. The
+innocent children marvelled at the monster, in wide-eyed excitement,
+unsuspecting even its humanity, much less its double nature; only
+Davie knew<span class="pagenum">[165]</span> that in that Dragon there were the ruins of a man and the
+makings of a great actor!</p>
+
+<p>"Why are ye sae anxious to stand in my shoon?" he would ask, when the
+hind legs became too obstreperous.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to be in your shoes; I only want to see the stage for
+once."</p>
+
+<p>But Davie would shake his head incredulously, making the Dragon's mask
+wobble at the wrong cues. At last, once when Sabra was singing, poor
+Jimmy, driven to extremities, confessed the truth, and had the
+mortification of feeling the wires vibrate with the Scotchman's silent
+laughter. He blushed unseen.</p>
+
+<p>But it transpired that Davie's amusement was not so much scornful as
+sceptical. He still suspected the tail of a sinister intention to wag
+the Dragon.</p>
+
+<p>"Nae, nae," he said, "ye shallna get me to swallow that. Ye're an unco
+puir creature, but ye're no sa daft as to want the moon. She's a
+bonnie lassie, and I willna be surprised if she catches a coronet in
+the end, when she makes a name in Lunnon; for the swells here, though
+I see a wheen foolish faces nicht after nicht in the stalls, are but a
+puir lot. Eh, but it's a gey grand tocher is a pretty face. In the
+meanwhiles, like a canny girl, she's settin' her cap at the chief."</p>
+
+<p>"Hold your tongue!" hissed the hind legs. "She's as pure as an angel."</p>
+
+<p>"Hoot-toot!" answered the head. "Dinna leebel the angels. It's no an
+angel that lets her manager give her sly squeezes and saft kisses that
+are nae in the stage directions."</p>
+
+<p>"Then she can't know he's a married man," said the hind legs hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"Dinna fash yoursel'&mdash;she kens that full weel and a thocht or two
+more. Dod! Ye should just see how she and St. George carry on after my
+death scene, when he's supposit to ha' rescued her and they fall
+a-cuddlin'."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[166]</span></p>
+
+<p>"You're a liar!" said the hind legs.</p>
+
+<p>Davie roared and breathed burning squibs and capered about, and Jimmy
+had to prance after him in involuntary pursuit. He felt choking in his
+stuffy hot black rollicking dungeon. The thought of this bloated
+sexagenarian faked up as a <i>jeune premier</i>, pawing that sweet little
+girl, sickened him.</p>
+
+<p>"Dom'd leear yersel!" resumed Davie, coming to a standstill. "I maun
+believe my own eyes, what they tell me nicht after nicht."</p>
+
+<p>"Then let me see for myself, and I'll believe you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ye dinna catch me like that," said Davie, chuckling.</p>
+
+<p>After that poor Jimmy's anxiety to see the stage became feverish. He
+even meditated malingering and going in front of the house, but could
+only have got a distant view, and at the risk of losing his place in
+an overcrowded profession. His opportunity came at length, but not
+till the pantomime was half run out and the actor-manager sought to
+galvanise it by a "second edition," which in sum meant a new lot of
+the variety entertainers who came on and played copophones before
+Ptolemy, did card-tricks in the desert, and exhibited trained poodles
+to the palm-trees. But Davie, determined to rise to the occasion,
+thought out a fresh conception of his part, involving three new
+grunts, and was so busy rehearsing them at home that he forgot the
+flight of the hours and arrived at the theatre only in time to take
+second place in the Dragon that was just waiting, half-manned, at the
+wing. He was so flustered that he did not even think of protesting for
+the first few minutes. When he did protest, Jimmy said, "What are you
+jawing about? This is a second edition, isn't it?" and caracoled
+around, dragging the unhappy Davie in his train.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell the chief," groaned the hind legs.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[167]</span></p>
+
+<p>"All right, let him know you were late," answered the head cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, but it's pit-mirk, here. I canna see onything."</p>
+
+<p>"You see I'm no liar. Shall I send a squib your way?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay, nae larking. Mind the business or you'll ruin my
+reputation."</p>
+
+<p>"Mind my business, I'll mind yours," replied Jimmy joyously, for the
+lovely Sabra was smiling right in his eyes. A Dragon divided against
+itself cannot stand, so Davie had to wait till the beast came off. To
+his horror Jimmy refused to budge from his shell. He begged for just
+one "keek" at the stage, but Jimmy replied: "You don't catch me like
+that." Davie said little more, but he matured a crafty plan, and in
+the next scene he whispered:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Jimmy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up, Davie; I'm busy."</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a pin, and if ye shallna promise to restore me my richts
+after the next exit, ye shall feel the taste of it."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll just stay where you are," came back the peremptory reply.</p>
+
+<p>Deep went the pin in Jimmy's rear, and the Dragon gave such a howl
+that Davie's blood ran cold. Too late he remembered that it was not
+the Dragon's cue, and that he was making havoc of his own professional
+reputation. Through the canvas he felt the stern gaze of the
+actor-manager. He thought of pricking Jimmy only at the howling cues,
+but then the howl thus produced was so superior to his own, that if
+Jimmy chose to claim it, he might be at once engaged to replace him in
+the part. What a dilemma!</p>
+
+<p>Poor Davie! As if it was not enough to be cut off from all the
+brilliant spectacle, pent in pitchy gloom and robbed of all his "fat"
+and his painfully rehearsed "second edition" touches. He felt like one
+of those fallen archangels of the<span class="pagenum">[168]</span> footlights who live to bear
+Ophelia's bier on boards where they once played Hamlet.</p>
+
+<p>Far different emotions were felt at the Dragon's head, where Jimmy's
+joy faded gradually away, replaced by a passion of indignation, as
+with love-sharpened eyes he ascertained for himself the true relations
+of the actor-manager with his "principal girl." He saw from his coign
+of vantage the poor modest little thing shrinking before the cowardly
+advances of her employer, who took every possible advantage of the
+stage potentialities, in ways the audience could not discriminate from
+the acting. Alas! what could the gentle little bread-winner do? But
+Jimmy's blood was boiling. Davie's great scene arrived: the battle
+royal between St. George and the Dragon. Sabra, bewitchingly radiant
+in white Arabian silk, stood under the orange-tree where the pendent
+fruit was labelled three a penny. Here St. George, in knightly armour
+clad, retired between the rounds, to be sponged by the fair Sabra,
+from whose lips he took the opportunity of drinking encouragement.
+When the umpire cried "Time!" Jimmy uttered inarticulate cries of real
+rage and malediction, vomiting his squibs straight at the champion's
+eyes with intent to do him grievous bodily injury. But squibs have
+their own ways of jumping, and the actor-manager's face was protected
+by his glittering burgonet.</p>
+
+<p>At last Jimmy and Davie were duly despatched by St. George's trusty
+sword, Ascalon, which passed right between them and stuck out on the
+other side amid the frantic applause of the house. The Dragon reeled
+cumbrously sideways and bit the dust, of which there was plenty. Then
+Sabra rushed forward from under the orange-tree and encircled her
+hero's hauberk with a stage embrace, while St. George, lifting up his
+visor, rained kiss after kiss on Sabra's scarlet face, and the "gods"
+went hoarse with joy.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[169]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir!" Jimmy heard the still small voice of the bread-winner
+protest feebly again and again amid the thunder, as she tried to
+withdraw herself from her employer's grasp. This was the last straw.
+Anger and the foul air of his prison wrought up Jimmy to asphyxiation
+point. What wonder if the Dragon lost his head completely?</p>
+
+<p>Davie will never forget the horror of that moment when he felt himself
+dragged upwards as by an irresistible tornado, and knew himself for a
+ruined actor. Mechanically he essayed to cling to the ground, but in
+vain. The dead Dragon was on its feet in a moment; in another, Jimmy
+had thrown off the mask, showing a shock of hair and a blotched
+crimson face, spotted with great beads of perspiration. Unconscious of
+this culminating outrage, Davie made desperate prods with his pin, but
+Jimmy was equally unconscious of the pricks. The thunder died
+abruptly. A dead silence fell upon the whole house&mdash;you could have
+heard Davie's pin drop. St. George, in amazed consternation, released
+his hold of Sabra and cowered back before the wild glare of the
+bloodshot eyes. "How dare you?" rang out in hoarse screaming accents
+from the protruding head, and with one terrific blow of its right
+fore-leg the hybrid monster felled Sabra's insulter to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>The astonished St. George lay on his back, staring up vacantly at the
+flies.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll teach you how to behave to a lady!" roared the Dragon.</p>
+
+<p>Then Davie tugged him frantically backwards, but Jimmy cavorted
+obstinately in the centre of the stage, which the actor-manager had
+taken even in his fall, so that the Dragon's hind legs trampled
+blindly on Davie's prostrate chief, amid the hysterical convulsions of
+the house.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[170]</span></p><hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Next morning the local papers were loud in their praises of the
+"Second Edition" of <i>St. George and the Dragon</i>, especially of the
+"genuinely burlesque and topsy-turvy episode in which the Dragon rises
+from the dead to read St. George a lesson in chivalry; a really
+side-splitting conception, made funnier by the grotesque revelation of
+the constituents of the Dragon, just before it retires for the night."</p>
+
+<p>The actor-manager had no option but to adopt this reading, so had to
+be hoofed and publicly reprimanded every evening during the rest of
+the season, glad enough to get off so cheaply.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, Jimmy was dismissed, but St. George was painfully polite to
+Sabra ever after, not knowing but what Jimmy was in the gallery with a
+brickbat, and perhaps not unimpressed by the lesson in chivalry he was
+receiving every evening.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps you think the Dragon deserved to marry Sabra, but that would
+be really too topsy-turvy, and the sentimental beast himself was quite
+satisfied to have rescued her from St. George.</p>
+
+<p>But the person who profited most by Jimmy's sacrifice was Davie, who
+stepped into a real speaking part, emerged from the obscurity of his
+surroundings, burst his swaddling clothes, and made his appearance on
+the stage&mdash;a thing he could scarcely be said to have done in the
+Dragon's womb.</p>
+
+<p>And so the world wags.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/i050.jpg" width="196" height="142" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[171]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="An_Honest_Log-Roller"><i>An Honest Log-Roller.</i></h2>
+
+<p>Louis Maunders was writing an anonymous novel, and a large circle of
+friends and acquaintances expected it to make a big hit. Louis
+Maunders was so modest that he distrusted his own opinion, and was
+glad to find his friends sharing it in this matter. It strengthened
+him. He carried the manuscript unostentatiously about in a long brief
+bag, while the book was writing, and worked at it during all his spare
+moments. Even in omnibuses he was to be seen scribbling hard with a
+stylus, and neglecting to attend to the conductor. The plot of the
+story was sad and heartrending, for Louis was only twenty-one. Louis
+refused to give those roseate pictures of life which the conventional
+novelist turns out to please the public. He objected to "happy
+endings." In real life, he said, no story ends happily; for the end of
+everybody's story is Death. In this book he said some bitter things
+about Life which it would have winced to hear, had it been alive. As
+for Death, he doubted whether it was worth dying. Towards Nature he
+took a tone of haughty superiority, and expressed himself
+disrespectfully on the subject of Fate. He mocked at it through the
+lips of his hero, and altogether seemed qualifying for the liver
+complaint, which is the Prometheus myth done into modern English. He
+taught that the only Peace for man lies in snapping the fingers at
+Fortune, taking her buffets and her favours with equal contempt, and
+generally teaching her to know her place. The soul of the
+Philosopher,<span class="pagenum">[172]</span> he said, would stand grinning cynically though the
+planetary system were sold off by auction. These lessons were taught
+with great tragic power in Maunders' novel, and he was looking forward
+to the time when it should be in print, and on all the carpets of
+conversation. He was extremely gratified to find his friends thinking
+so well of its prospects, for it was pleasing to him to discover that
+he had chosen his circle so well, and had such intelligent friends. It
+did not seem to him at all unlikely that he would make his fortune
+with this novel; and he hurried on with it, till the masterpiece
+needed only a few final touches and a few last insults to Fate. Then
+he left the bag in a hansom cab. When he remembered his forgetfulness,
+he was distracted. He raved like a maniac&mdash;and like a maniac did not
+even write his ravings down for after use. He applied at Scotland
+Yard, but the superintendent said that drivers brought there only
+articles of value. He sent paragraphs to the papers, asking even of
+the <i>Echo</i> where his lost novel was. But the <i>Echo</i> answered not.
+Several spiteful papers insinuated that he was a liar, and a
+high-class comic paper went out of its way to make a joke, and to call
+his book "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab." The annoying part of the
+business was that after getting all this gratuitous advertisement, in
+itself enough to sell two editions, the book still refused to come up
+for publication. Maunders was too heart-broken to write another. For
+months he went about, a changed being. He had put the whole of himself
+into that book, and it was lost. He mourned for the departed
+manuscript, and generously extolled its virtues. For years he remained
+faithful to its memory; and its pages were made less dry with his
+tears. But the most intemperate grief wears itself out at last; and
+after a few years of melancholy, Maunders rallied and became a
+critic.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[173]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i051.jpg" width="259" height="502" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">THE GREAT CRITIC.</p>
+
+<p>As a critic he set in with great severity, and by carefully refraining
+from doing anything himself, gained a great reputation far and wide.
+In due course he joined the staff of the <i>Acad&aelig;um</i>, where his signed
+contributions came to be looked for with profound respect by the
+public and with fear and trembling by authors. For Maunders' criticism
+was so very superior, even for the <i>Acad&aelig;um</i>, of which the trade motto
+was "Stop here for Criticism&mdash;superior to anything in the literary
+market." Maunders flayed and excoriated Marsyas till the world
+accepted him as Apollo.</p>
+
+<p>What Maunders was most down upon was novel-writing. Not having to
+follow them himself, he had high ideals of art; and woe to the
+unfortunate author who thought he had literary and artistic instinct
+when he had only pen and paper. Maunders was especially severe upon
+the novels of young authors, with their affected style and jejune
+ideas. Perhaps the most brilliant criticism he ever wrote was a
+merciless dissection of a book of this sort, reeking with the
+insincerity<span class="pagenum">[174]</span> and crudity of youth, full of accumulated ignorance of
+life, and brazening it out by flashy cynicism.</p>
+
+<p>A week after this notice appeared, his oldest and dearest friend
+called upon him and asked him for an explanation.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" said Maunders.</p>
+
+<p>"When I read your slashing notice of 'A Fingersnap for Fate,' I at
+once got the book."</p>
+
+<p>"What! After I had disembowelled it; after I had shown it was a stale
+sausage stuffed with old and putrid ideas?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, to tell the truth," said his friend, a little crestfallen at
+having to confess, "I always get the books you pitch into. So do lots
+of people. We are only plain, ordinary, homespun people, you know; so
+we feel sure that whatever you praise will be too superior for us,
+while what you condemn will suit us to a <i>t</i>. That is why the great
+public studies and respects your criticisms. You are our literary
+pastor and monitor. Your condemnation is our guide-post, and your
+praise is our <i>Index Expurgatorius</i>. But for you we should be lost in
+the wilderness of new books."</p>
+
+<p>"And this is all the result of my years of laborious criticism," fumed
+the <i>Acad&aelig;um</i> critic. "Proceed, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what I came to say was, that if my memory does not play me a
+trick after all these years, 'A Fingersnap for Fate' is your long-lost
+novel."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" shrieked the great critic; "my long-lost child! Impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," persisted his oldest and dearest friend. "I recognised it by
+the strawberry mark in Cap. II., where the hero compares the younger
+generation to fresh strawberries smothered in stale cream. I remember
+your reading it to me!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[175]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Heavens! The whole thing comes back to me," cried the critic. "Now I
+know why I damned it so unmercifully for plagiarism! All the while I
+was reading it, there was a strange, haunting sense of familiarity."</p>
+
+<p>"But, surely you will expose the thief!"</p>
+
+<p>"How can I? It would mean confessing that I wrote the book myself.
+That I slated it savagely, is nothing. That will pass as a good joke,
+if not a piece of rare modesty. But confess myself the author of such
+a wretched failure!"</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me," said his friend. "It is not a failure. It is a very
+popular success. It is selling like wildfire. Excuse the inaccurate
+simile; but you know what I mean. Your notice has sent the sale up
+tremendously. Ever since your notice appeared, the printing presses
+have been going day and night and are utterly unable to cope with the
+demand. Oh, you must not let a rogue make a fortune out of you like
+this. That would be too sinful."</p>
+
+<p>So the great critic sought out the thief. And they divided the
+profits. And then the thief, who was a fool as well as a rogue, wrote
+another book&mdash;all out of his own head this time. And the critic slated
+it. And they divided the profits.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[176]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="A_Tragi-Comedy_of_Creeds"><i>A Tragi-Comedy of Creeds.</i></h2>
+
+<p>Not much before midnight in a midland town&mdash;a thriving commercial
+town, whose dingy back streets swarmed with poverty and piety&mdash;a man
+in a soft felt hat and a white tie was hurrying home over a bridge
+that spanned a dark crowded river. He had missed the tram, and did not
+care to be seen out late, but he could not afford a cab. Suddenly he
+felt a tug at his long black coat-tail. Vaguely alarmed and definitely
+annoyed, he turned round quickly. A breathless, roughly-clad,
+rugged-featured man loosed his hold of the skirt.</p>
+
+<p>"'Scuse me, sir&mdash;I've been running," gasped the stranger, placing his
+horny hand on his breast and panting.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it? What do you want?" said the gentleman impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"My wife's dying," jerked the man.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm very sorry," murmured the gentleman incredulously, expecting some
+conventional street-plea.</p>
+
+<p>"Awful sudden attack&mdash;this last of hers&mdash;only came on an hour ago."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not a doctor."</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I know. I don't want a doctor. He's there and only gives her
+ten minutes to live. Come with me at once, please."</p>
+
+<p>"Come with you? Why, what good can I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"You're a clergyman!"</p>
+
+<p>"A clergyman!" repeated the other.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[177]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>The wearer of the white tie looked embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ye-es," he stammered. "In a&mdash;in a way. But I'm not the sort of
+clergyman your wife will be wanting."</p>
+
+<p>"No?" said the man, puzzled and pained. Then with a sudden dread in
+his voice: "You're not a Catholic clergyman?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," was the unhesitating reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then it's all right!" cried the man, relieved. "Come with me,
+sir, for God's sake. Don't let us waste time." His face was lit up
+with anxious appeal.</p>
+
+<p>But still the clergyman hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"You're making a mistake," he murmured. "I am not a Christian
+clergyman." He turned to resume his walk.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a Christian clergyman!" exclaimed the man, as who should say "not
+a black negro!"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;I am a Jewish minister."</p>
+
+<p>"That don't matter," broke in the man, almost before he could finish
+the sentence. "As long as you're not a Catholic. Oh, don't go away
+now, sir!" His voice broke piteously. "Don't go away after I've been
+chasing you for five minutes&mdash;I saw your rig-out&mdash;I beg pardon, your
+coat and hat&mdash;in the distance just as I came out of the house. Walk
+back with me, anyhow," he pleaded, seeing the Jew's hesitation, "Oh!
+for pity's sake, walk back with me at once and we can discuss it as we
+go along. I know I should never get hold of another parson in time at
+this hour of the night."</p>
+
+<p>The man's accents were so poignant, his anxiety was so apparently
+sincere, that the minister's humanity could scarcely resist the
+solicitation to walk back at least. He would still have time to decide
+whether to enter the house or not&mdash;whether the case were genuine or a
+mere trap<span class="pagenum">[178]</span> concealing robbery or worse. The man took a short cut
+through evil-looking slums that did not increase the minister's
+confidence. He wondered what his flock would think if they saw their
+pastor in such company. He was a young unmarried minister, and the
+reputation of such in provincial Jewish congregations, overflowing
+with religion and tittle-tattle, is as a pretty unprotected orphan
+girl's.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't you go to your own clergyman?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got none," said the man half-apologetically. "I don't believe in
+nothing myself. But you know what women are!"</p>
+
+<p>The minister sniffed, but did not deny the weakness of the sex.</p>
+
+<p>"Betsy goes to some place or other every Sunday almost; sometimes
+she's there and back from a service before I'm up, and so long as the
+breakfast's ready I don't mind. I don't ask her no questions, and in
+return she don't bother about my soul&mdash;leastways, not for these ten
+years, ever since she's had kids to convert. We get along all right,
+the missus and me and the kids. Oh, but it's all come to an end now,"
+he concluded, with a sob.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but my good fellow," protested the minister, "I told you you
+were making a mistake. You know nothing about religion; but what your
+wife wants is some one to talk to her of Jesus, or to give her the
+Sacrament, or the Confession, or something, for I confess I'm not very
+clear about the forms of Christianity; and I haven't got any wafers or
+things of that sort. No, I couldn't do it, even if I had a mind to. It
+would ruin my position if it were known. But apart from that, I really
+can't do it. I wouldn't know what to say, and I couldn't bring my
+tongue to say it if I did."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but you believe in <i>something</i>?" persisted the man piteously.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[179]</span></p>
+
+<p>"H'm! Yes, I can't deny that," said the minister; "but it's not the
+same something that your wife believes in."</p>
+
+<p>"You believe in a God, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>The minister felt a bit chagrined at being catechised in the elements
+of his religion.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course!" he said fretfully.</p>
+
+<p>"There! I knew it," cried the man in triumph. "None of us do in our
+shop; but, of course, clergymen are different. But if you believe in a
+God, that's enough, ain't it? You're both religious folk."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it isn't enough&mdash;at least, not for your wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, you needn't let out, sir, need you? So long as you talk of
+God and keep clear of the Pope. I've heard her going on about a
+Scarlet Woman to the kids. (God bless their little hearts! I wonder
+what they'll do without her!) She'll never know, sir, and she'll die
+happy. I've done my duty. She whispered I wasn't to bring a Roman
+Catholic, poor thing. I fancy I heard her say once they're even worse
+than Jews. Oh, I don't mean that, sir. You're sure you're not a Roman
+Catholic?" he concluded anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, you'll keep the rest dark, won't you? There's no call to
+let out you don't believe the same other things as her."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall tell no lie," said the minister firmly. "You have called me
+in to give consolation to your dying wife, and I shall do my duty as
+best I can. Is this the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir&mdash;right at the top."</p>
+
+<p>The minister conquered a last impulse of mistrust, and looked round
+cautiously to be sure he was unobserved. Charity was not a strong
+point with his flock, and certainly his proceedings were suspicious.
+Even if they learnt the truth, he was not at all sure they would not
+consider his<span class="pagenum">[180]</span> praying with a dying Christian akin to blasphemy. On the
+whole he must be credited with some courage in mounting that black,
+ill-smelling, interminable staircase. He found himself in a gloomy
+garret at last, lighted by an oil-lamp. A haggard woman lay with shut
+eyes on an iron bed, her chilling hands clasping the hands of the
+"converted" kids, a boy of ten and a girl of seven, who stood
+blubbering in their night-attire. The doctor leaned against the head
+of the bed, the ungainly shadows of the group sprawling across the
+blank wall. He had done all he could&mdash;without hope of payment&mdash;to ease
+the poor woman's last moments. He was a big-brained, large-hearted
+Irishman, a Roman Catholic, who thought science and religion might be
+the best of friends. The husband looked at him in frantic
+interrogation.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not too late," replied the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" said the atheist. "Betsy, old girl, here is the
+clergyman."</p>
+
+<p>The cloud seemed to pass off the blind face, and a wave of wan
+sunlight to traverse it; slowly the eyes opened, the hands withdrew
+themselves from the children's grasp, and the palms met for prayer.</p>
+
+<p>"Christ Jesus&mdash;" began the lips mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>The minister was hot with confusion and a-quiver with emotion. He knew
+not what to say, as automatically he drew out a Hebrew prayer-book
+from his pocket and began reading the Deathbed Confession in the
+English version that appeared on the alternate pages.</p>
+
+<p>"I acknowledge unto Thee, O Lord, my God, and the God of my fathers,
+that both my cure and my death are in Thy hands...." As he read, the
+dying lips moved, mumbling the words after him. How often had those
+white lips prayed that the stiff-necked Jews might find grace and be
+saved from damnation; how often had those poor, rough<span class="pagenum">[181]</span> hands put
+pennies into conversionist collecting-boxes after toiling hard to
+scrape them together; so that only she might suffer by their diversion
+from the household treasury.</p>
+
+<p>The prayer went on, the mournful monotone thrilling through the hot,
+dim, oil-reeking attic, and awing the weeping children into silence.
+The atheist stood by reverently, torn by conflicting emotions; glad
+the poor foolish creature had her wish, and on thorns lest she should
+live long enough to discover the deception. There was no room in his
+overcharged heart for personal grief just then. "Make known to me the
+path of life; in Thy presence is fulness of joy; at Thy right hand are
+pleasures for evermore." An ecstatic look overspread the plain,
+careworn face, she stretched out her arms as if to embrace some unseen
+vision.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am coming ... Jesus," she murmured. Then her hands dropped
+heavily upon her breast; the face grew rigid, the eyes closed.
+Involuntarily the minister seized the hand nearest him. He felt it
+respond faintly to his clasp in unconsciousness of the pagan pollution
+of his touch. He read on, "Thou who art the Father of the fatherless
+and the Judge of the widow, protect my beloved kindred with whose soul
+my own is knit."</p>
+
+<p>The lips still echoed him almost imperceptibly, the departing spirit
+lulled into peace by the prayer of the unbeliever. "Into Thy hand I
+commend my spirit. Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth. Amen
+and Amen."</p>
+
+<p>And in that last Amen, with a final gleam of blessedness flitting
+across her sightless face, the poor Christian toiler breathed out her
+life of pain, holding the Jew's hand. There was a moment of solemn
+silence, the three men becoming as the little children in the presence
+of the eternal mystery.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[182]</span></p><hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>It leaked out, as everything did in that gossipy town, and among that
+gossipy Jewish congregation. To the minister's relief, his flock took
+it better than he expected.</p>
+
+<p>"What a blessed privilege for that heathen female!" was all their
+comment.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[183]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="The_Memory_Clearing_House"><i>The Memory Clearing House.</i></h2>
+
+<p>When I moved into better quarters on the strength of the success of my
+first novel, I little dreamt that I was about to be the innocent
+instrument of a new epoch in telepathy. My poor Geraldine&mdash;but I must
+be calm; it would be madness to let them suspect I am insane. No,
+these last words must be final. I cannot afford to have them
+discredited. I cannot afford any luxuries now.</p>
+
+<p>Would to Heaven I had never written that first novel! Then I might
+still have been a poor, unhappy, struggling, realistic novelist; I
+might still have been residing at 109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby
+Road, St. Pancras. But I do not blame Providence. I knew the book was
+conventional even before it succeeded. My only consolation is that
+Geraldine was part-author of my misfortunes, if not of my novel. She
+it was who urged me to abandon my high ideals, to marry her, and live
+happily ever afterwards. She said if I wrote only one bad book it
+would be enough to establish my reputation; that I could then command
+my own terms for the good ones. I fell in with her proposal, the banns
+were published, and we were bound together. I wrote a rose-tinted
+romance, which no circulating library could be without, instead of the
+veracious picture of life I longed to paint; and I moved from 109,
+Little Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras, to 22, Albert
+Flats, Victoria Square, Westminster.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i052.jpg" width="333" height="292" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;URGED ME TO ABANDON MY HIGH IDEALS.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A few days after we had sent out the cards, I met my<span class="pagenum">[184]</span> friend
+O'Donovan, late member for Blackthorn. He was an Irishman by birth and
+profession, but the recent General Election had thrown him out of
+work. The promise of his boyhood and of his successful career at
+Trinity College was great, but in later years he began to manifest
+grave symptoms of genius. I have heard whispers that it was in the
+family, though he kept it from his wife. Possibly I ought not to have
+sent him a card and have taken the opportunity of dropping his
+acquaintance. But Geraldine argued that he was not dangerous, and that
+we ought to be kind to him just after he had come out of Parliament.</p>
+
+<p>O'Donovan was in a rage.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i053.jpg" width="215" height="456" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;O&#39;DONOVAN WAS IN A RAGE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought it of you!" he said angrily, when I asked him how he
+was. He had a good Irish accent, but he only used it when addressing
+his constituents.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[185]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Never thought what?" I enquired in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"That you would treat your friends so shabbily."</p>
+
+<p>"Wh-what, didn't you g-get a card?" I stammered. "I'm sure the wife&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a fool!" he interrupted. "Of course I got a card. That's
+what I complain of."</p>
+
+<p>I stared at him blankly. The social experiences resulting from my
+marriage had convinced me that it was impossible to avoid giving
+offence. I had no reason to be surprised, but I was.</p>
+
+<p>"What right have you to move and put all your friends to trouble?" he
+enquired savagely.</p>
+
+<p>"I have put myself to trouble," I said, "but I fail to see how I have
+taxed <i>your</i> friendship."</p>
+
+<p>"No, of course not," he growled. "I didn't expect you to see. You're
+just as inconsiderate as everybody else. Don't you think I had enough
+trouble to commit to memory '109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby
+Road, St. Pancras,' without being unexpectedly set to study '21,
+Victoria Flats&mdash;?'"</p>
+
+<p>"22, Albert Flats," I interrupted mildly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[186]</span></p>
+
+<p>"There you are!" he snarled. "You see already how it harasses my poor
+brain. I shall never remember it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, you will," I said deprecatingly. "It is much easier than the
+old address. Listen here! '22, Albert Flats, Victoria Square,
+Westminster.' 22&mdash;a symmetrical number, the first double even number;
+the first is two, the second is two, too, and the whole is two, two,
+too&mdash;quite &aelig;sthetical, you know. Then all the rest is royal&mdash;Albert,
+Albert the Good, see. Victoria&mdash;the Queen. Westminster&mdash;Westminster
+Palace. And the other words&mdash;geometrical terms, Flat, Square. Why,
+there never was such an easy address since the days of Adam before he
+moved out of Eden," I concluded enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="split" src="images/i054.jpg" width="171" height="294" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption split">&quot;&#39;THERE NEVER WAS SUCH<br />AN EASY ADDRESS.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"It's easy enough for you, no doubt," he said, unappeased. "But do you
+think you're the only acquaintance who's not contented with his street
+and number? Bless my soul, with a large circle like mine, I find
+myself charged with a new schoolboy task twice a month. I shall have
+to migrate to a village where people have more stability of character.
+Heavens! Why have snails been privileged with a domiciliary constancy
+denied to human beings?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you ought to be grateful," I urged feebly. "Think of 22, Albert
+Flats, Victoria Square, Westminster, and then think of what I might
+have moved to. If I have given you an imposition, at least admit it is
+a light one."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[187]</span></p>
+
+<p>"It isn't so much the new address I complain of, it's the old. Just
+imagine what a weary grind it has been to master&mdash;'109, Little Turncot
+Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras.' For the last eighteen months I
+have been grappling with it, and now, just as I am letter perfect and
+postcard secure, behold all my labour destroyed, all my pains made
+ridiculous. It's the waste that vexes me. Here is a piece of
+information, slowly and laboriously acquired, yet absolutely useless.
+Nay, worse than useless; a positive hindrance. For I am just as slow
+at forgetting as at picking up. Whenever I want to think of your
+address, up it will spring, '109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby
+Road, St. Pancras.' It cannot be scotched&mdash;it must lie there blocking
+up my brains, a heavy, uncouth mass, always ready to spring at the
+wrong moment; a possession of no value to anyone but the owner, and
+not the least use to <i>him</i>."</p>
+
+<p>He paused, brooding on the thought in moody silence. Suddenly his face
+changed.</p>
+
+<p>"But isn't it of value to anybody <i>but</i> the owner?" he exclaimed
+excitedly. "Are there not persons in the world who would jump at the
+chance of acquiring it? Don't stare at me as if I was a comet. Look
+here! Suppose some one had come to me eighteen months ago and said,
+'Patrick, old man, I have a memory I don't want. It's 109, Little
+Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras! You're welcome to it, if
+it's any use to you.' Don't you think I would have fallen on that
+man's&mdash;or woman's&mdash;neck, and watered it with my tears? Just think what
+a saving of brain-force it would have been to me&mdash;how many petty
+vexations it would have spared me! See here, then! Is your last place
+let?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I said. "A Mr. Marrow has it now."</p>
+
+<p>"Ha!" he said, with satisfaction. "Now there must be lots of Mr.
+Marrow's friends in the same predicament as I<span class="pagenum">[188]</span> was&mdash;people whose
+brains are softening in the effort to accommodate '109, Little Turncot
+Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras.' Psychical science has made such
+great strides in this age that with a little ingenuity it should
+surely not be impossible to transfer the memory of it from my brain to
+theirs."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i055.jpg" width="369" height="294" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;PEOPLE WHOSE BRAINS ARE SOFTENING.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"But," I gasped, "even if it was possible, why should you give away
+what you don't want? That would be charity."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not suspect me of that?" he cried reproachfully. "No, my ideas
+are not so primitive. For don't you see that there is a memory <i>I</i>
+want&mdash;'33, Royal Flats&mdash;'"</p>
+
+<p>"22, Albert Flats," I murmured shame-facedly.</p>
+
+<p>"22, Albert Flats," he repeated witheringly. "You see how badly I want
+it. Well, what I propose is to exchange my memory of '109, Little
+Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras'" (he always rolled it
+slowly on his tongue with<span class="pagenum">[189]</span> morbid self-torture and almost intolerable
+reproachfulness), "for the memory of '22, Albert Square.'"</p>
+
+<p>"But you forget," I said, though I lacked the courage to correct him
+again, "that the people who want '109, Little Turncot Street,' are not
+the people who possess '22, Albert Flats.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Precisely; the principle of direct exchange is not feasible. What is
+wanted, therefore, is a Memory Clearing House. If I can only discover
+the process of thought-transference, I will establish one, so as to
+bring the right parties into communication. Everybody who has old
+memories to dispose of will send me in particulars. At the end of each
+week I will publish a catalogue of the memories in the market, and
+circulate it among my subscribers, who will pay, say, a guinea a year.
+When the subscriber reads his catalogue and lights upon any memory he
+would like to have, he will send me a postcard, and I will then bring
+him into communication with the proprietor, taking, of course, a
+commission upon the transaction. Doubtless, in time, there will be a
+supplementary catalogue devoted to 'Wants,' which may induce people to
+scour their brains for half-forgotten reminiscences, or persuade<span class="pagenum">[190]</span> them
+to give up memories they would never have parted with otherwise. Well,
+my boy, what do you think of it?"</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i056.jpg" width="226" height="308" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;&#39;THE SUBSCRIBER READS<br />HIS CATALOGUE.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"It opens up endless perspectives," I said, half-dazed.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be the greatest invention ever known!" he cried, inflaming
+himself more and more. "It will change human life, it will make a new
+epoch, it will effect a greater economy of human force than all the
+machines under the sun. Think of the saving of nerve-tissue, think of
+the prevention of brain-irritation. Why, we shall all live longer
+through it&mdash;centenarians will become as cheap as American
+millionaires."</p>
+
+<p>Live longer through it! Alas, the mockery of the recollection! He left
+me, his face working wildly. For days the vision of it interrupted my
+own work. At last, I could bear the suspense no more and went to his
+house. I found him in ecstasies and his wife in tears. She was
+beginning to suspect the family skeleton.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Eureka!</i>" he was shouting. "<i>Eureka!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter?" sobbed the poor woman. "Why don't you speak
+English? He has been going on like this for the last five minutes,"
+she added, turning pitifully to me.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[191]</span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Eureka!</i>" shouted O'Donovan. "I must say it. No new invention is
+complete without it."</p>
+
+<p>"Bah! I didn't think you were so conventional," I said contemptuously.
+"I suppose you have found out how to make the memory-transferring
+machine?"</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="split" src="images/i057.jpg" width="220" height="330" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption split">&quot;&#39;WHAT IS THE MATTER?&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"I have," he cried exultantly. "I shall christen it the noemagraph, or
+thought-writer. The impression is received on a sensitised plate which
+acts as a medium between the two minds. The brow of the purchaser is
+pressed against the plate, through which a current of electricity is
+then passed."</p>
+
+<p>He rambled on about volts and dynamic psychometry and other hard
+words, which, though they break no bones, should be strictly confined
+in private dictionaries.</p>
+
+<p>"I am awfully glad you came in," he said, resuming his mother tongue
+at last&mdash;"because if you won't charge me anything I will try the first
+experiment on you."</p>
+
+<p>I consented reluctantly, and in two minutes he rushed about the room
+triumphantly shouting, "22, Albert Flats, Victoria Square,
+Westminster," till he was hoarse. But for his enthusiasm I should have
+suspected he had crammed up my address on the sly.</p>
+
+<p>He started the Clearing House forthwith. It began humbly as an attic
+in the Strand. The first number of the catalogue was naturally meagre.
+He was good enough to put me on the free list, and I watched with
+interest the development of the enterprise. He had canvassed his
+acquaintances for subscribers, and begged everybody he met to send him
+particulars of their cast-off memories. When he could afford to
+advertise a little, his <i>client&egrave;le</i> increased. There is always a
+public for anything <i>bizarre</i>, and a percentage of the population
+would send thirteen stamps for the Philosopher's Stone, post free. Of
+course, the rest of the population smiled at him for an ingenious
+quack.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[192]</span></p>
+
+<p>The "Memories on Sale" catalogue grew thicker and thicker. The edition
+issued to the subscribers contained merely the items, but O'Donovan's
+copy comprised also the names and addresses of the vendors, and now
+and again he allowed me to have a peep at it in strict confidence. The
+inventor himself had not foreseen the extraordinary uses to which his
+noemagraph would be put, nor the extraordinary developments of his
+business. Here are some specimens culled at random from No. 13 of the
+Clearing House catalogue when O'Donovan still limited himself to
+facilitating the sale of superfluous memories:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>1. 25, Portsdown Avenue, Maida. Vale.</p>
+
+<p>3. 13502, 17208 (banknote numbers).</p>
+
+<p>12. History of England (a few Saxon kings missing), as
+successful in a recent examination by the College of
+Preceptors. Adapted to the requirements of candidates for the
+Oxford and Cambridge Local and the London Matriculation.</p>
+
+<p>17. Paley's Evidences, together with a job lot of dogmatic
+theology (second-hand), a valuable collection by a clergyman
+recently ordained, who has no further use for them.</p>
+
+<p>26. A dozen whist wrinkles, as used by a retiring speculator.
+Excessively cheap.</p>
+
+<p>29. Mathematical formul&aelig; (complete sets; all the latest
+novelties and improvements, including those for the higher
+plane curves, and a selection of the most useful logarithms),
+the property of a dying Senior Wrangler. Applications must be
+immediate, and no payment need be made to the heirs till the
+will has been proved.</p>
+
+<p>35. Arguments in favour of Home Rule (warranted sound);
+proprietor, distinguished Gladstonian M.P., has made up his
+mind to part with them at a sacrifice. Eminently suitable for
+bye-elections. Principals only.</p>
+
+<p>58. Witty wedding speech, as delivered amid great applause by a
+bridegroom. Also an assortment of toasts, jocose and serious,
+in good condition. Reduction on taking a quantity.</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum">[193]</span></p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i058.jpg" width="232" height="365" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;A CLERGYMAN<br />RECENTLY ORDAINED.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Politicians, clergymen, and ex-examinees soon became the chief
+customers. Graduates in arts and science hastened to discumber their
+memories of the useless load of learning which had outstayed its
+function of getting them on in the world. Thus not only did they make
+some extra money, but memories which would otherwise have rapidly
+faded were turned over to new minds to play a similarly beneficent
+part in aiding the careers of the owners. The fine image of Lucretius
+was realised, and the torch of learning was handed on from generation
+to generation. Had O'Donovan's business been as widely known as it
+deserved, the curse of cram would have gone to roost for ever, and a
+finer physical race of Englishmen would have been produced. In the
+hands of honest students the invention might have produced
+intellectual giants, for each scholar could have started where his
+predecessor left off, and added more to his wealth of lore, the
+moderns standing upon the shoulders of the ancients in a more literal
+sense than Bacon dreamed. The memory of Macaulay, which all Englishmen
+rightly reverence, might have been possessed by his schoolboy. As it<span class="pagenum">[194]</span>
+was, omniscient idiots abounded, left colossally wise by their
+fathers, whose painfully acquired memories they inherited without the
+intelligence to utilise them.</p>
+
+<p>O'Donovan's Parliamentary connection was a large one, doubtless merely
+because of his former position and his consequent contact with
+political circles. Promises to constituents were always at a discount,
+the supply being immensely in excess of the demand; indeed, promises
+generally were a drug in the market.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="split" src="images/i059.jpg" width="155" height="394" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption split">THE OMNISCIENT IDIOT.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of issuing the projected supplemental catalogue of "Memories
+Wanted," O'Donovan by this time saw his way to buying them up on spec.
+He was not satisfied with his commission. He had learnt by experience
+the kinds that went best, such as exam. answers, but he resolved to
+have all sorts and be remembered as the Whiteley of Memory. Thus the
+Clearing House very soon developed into a storehouse. O'Donovan's
+advertisement ran thus:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>WANTED! Wanted! Wanted! Memories! Memories! Best Prices in the
+Trade. Happy, Sad, Bitter, Sweet (as Used by Minor Poets). High
+Prices for Absolutely Pure Memories. Memories, Historical,
+Scientific, Pious, &amp;c. Good Memories! Special Terms to Liars.
+Precious Memories (Exeter Hall-marked). New Memories for Old!
+Lost Memories Recovered while you wait. Old Memories Turned
+equal to New.</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum">[195]</span></p>
+
+<p>O'Donovan soon sported his brougham. Any day you went into the store
+(which now occupied the whole of the premises in the Strand) you could
+see endless traffic going on. I often loved to watch it. People who
+were tired of themselves came here to get a complete new outfit of
+memories, and thus change their identities. Plaintiffs, defendants,
+and witnesses came to be fitted with memories that would stand the
+test of the oath, and they often brought solicitors<span class="pagenum">[196]</span> with them to
+advise them in selecting from the stock. Counsel's opinion on these
+points was regarded as especially valuable. Statements that would wash
+and stand rough pulling about were much sought after. Gentlemen and
+ladies writing reminiscences and autobiographies were to be met with
+at all hours, and nothing was more pathetic than to see the humble
+artisan investing his hard-earned "tanner" in recollections of a
+seaside holiday.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i060.jpg" width="365" height="414" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THEY OFTEN BROUGHT SOLICITORS WITH THEM.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In the buying-up department trade was equally brisk, and people who
+were hard-up were often forced to part with their tenderest
+recollections. Memories of dead loves went at five shillings a dozen,
+and all those moments which people had vowed never to forget were sold
+at starvation prices. The memories "indelibly engraven" on hearts were
+invariably faded and only sold as damaged. The salvage from the most
+ardent fires of affection rarely paid the porterage. As a rule, the
+dearest memories were the cheapest. Of the memory of favours there was
+always a glut, and often heaps of diseased memories had to be swept
+away at the instigation of the sanitary inspector. Memories of wrongs
+done, being rarely parted with except when their owners were at their
+last gasp, fetched fancy prices. Mourners' memories ruled especially
+lively. In the Memory Exchange, too, there was always a crowd, the
+temptation to barter worn-out memories for new proving irresistible.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i061.jpg" width="345" height="269" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;WHEN THEIR OWNERS WERE AT THEIR LAST GASP.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>One day O'Donovan came to me, crying "<i>Eureka!</i>" once more.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" I said, annoyed by the idiotic Hellenicism.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up! Why, I shall open ten more shops. I have discovered the art
+of duplicating, triplicating, polyplicating memories. I used only to
+be able to get one impression out of the sensitised plate, now I can
+get any number."</p>
+
+<p>"Be careful!" I said. "This may ruin you."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[197]</span></p>
+
+<p>"How so?" he asked scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, just see&mdash;suppose you supply two candidates for a science degree
+with the same chemical reminiscences, you lay them under a suspicion
+of copying; two after-dinner speakers may find themselves recollecting
+the same joke; several autobiographers may remember their making the
+same remark to Gladstone. Unless your customers can be certain they
+have the exclusive right in other people's memories, they will fall
+away."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i062.jpg" width="458" height="250" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">TWO AFTER-DINNER SPEAKERS RECOLLECTING THE SAME JOKE.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you are right," he said. "I must '<i>Eureka</i>' something else."
+His Greek was as defective as if he had had a classical education.</p>
+
+<p>What he found was "The Hire System." Some people who might otherwise
+have been good customers objected to losing their memories entirely.
+They were willing to part with them for a period. For instance, when a
+man<span class="pagenum">[198]</span> came up to town or took a run to Paris, he did not mind
+dispensing with some of his domestic recollections, just for a change.
+People who knew better than to forget themselves entirely profited by
+the opportunity of acquiring the funds for a holiday, merely by
+leaving some of their memories behind them. There were always others
+ready to hire for a season the discarded bits of personality, and thus
+remorse was done away with, and double lives became a luxury within
+the reach of the multitude. To the very poor, O'Donovan's new
+development proved an invaluable auxiliary to the pawn-shop. On Monday
+mornings, the pavement outside was congested with wretched-looking
+women anxious to pawn again the precious memories they had taken out
+with Saturday's wages. Under this hire system it became possible to
+pledge the memories of the absent <i>for</i> wine instead of in it. But the
+most gratifying result was its enabling pious relatives to redeem the
+memories<span class="pagenum">[199]</span> of the dead, on payment of the legal interest. It was great
+fun to watch O'Donovan strutting about the rooms of his newest branch,
+swelling with pride like a combination cock and John Bull.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i063.jpg" width="328" height="389" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">WRETCHED-LOOKING WOMEN PAWNING THEIR MEMORIES.</p>
+
+<p>The experiences he gained here afforded him the material for a final
+development, but, to be strictly chronological, I ought first to
+mention the newspaper into which the catalogue evolved. It was called
+<i>In Memoriam</i>, and was published at a penny, and gave a prize of a
+thousand pounds to any reader who lost his memory on the railway, and
+who<span class="pagenum">[200]</span> applied for the reward in person. <i>In Memoriam</i> dealt with
+everything relating to memory, though, dishonestly enough, the
+articles were all original. So were the advertisements, which were
+required to have reference to the objects of the Clearing
+House&mdash;<i>e.g.</i>,</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>A PHILANTHROPIC GENTLEMAN of good <i>address</i>, who has travelled
+a great deal, wishes to offer his <i>addresses</i> to impecunious
+<i>young ladies</i> (orphans preferred). Only those genuinely
+desirous of changing their residences, and with weak memories,
+need apply.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>And now for the final and fatal "<i>Eureka</i>." The anxiety of some
+persons to hire out their memories for a period led O'Donovan to see
+that it was absurd for him to pay for the use of them. The owners were
+only too glad to dodge remorse. He hit on the sublime idea that they
+ought to pay <i>him</i>. The result was the following advertisement in <i>In
+Memoriam</i> and its contemporaries:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>AMNESIA AGENCY! O'Donovan's Anodyne. Cheap
+Forgetfulness&mdash;Complete or Partial. Easy Amnesia&mdash;Temporary or
+Permanent. Haunting Memories Laid! Consciences Cleared. Cares
+carefully Removed without Gas or Pain. The London address of
+Lethe is 1001, Strand. Don't forget it.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Quite a new class of customers rushed to avail themselves of the new
+pathological institution. What attracted them was having to pay.
+Hitherto they wouldn't have gone if you paid <i>them</i>, as O'Donovan used
+to do. Widows and widowers presented themselves in shoals for
+treatment, with the result that marriages took place even within the
+year of mourning&mdash;a thing which obviously could not be done under any
+other system. I wonder whether Geraldine&mdash;but let me finish now!</p>
+
+<p>How well I remember that bright summer's morning when, wooed without
+by the liberal sunshine, and disgusted<span class="pagenum">[201]</span> with the progress I was making
+with my new study in realistic fiction, I threw down my pen, strolled
+down the Strand, and turned into the Clearing House. I passed through
+the selling department, catching a babel of cries from the
+counter-jumpers&mdash;"Two gross anecdotes? Yes, sir; this way, sir.
+Half-dozen proposals; it'll be cheaper if you take a dozen, miss. Can
+I do anything more for you, mum? Just let me show you a sample of our
+innocent recollections. The Duchess of Bayswater has just taken some.
+Anything in the musical line this morning, signor? We have some lovely
+new recollections just in from impecunious composers. Won't you take a
+score? Good morning, Mr. Clement Archer. We have the very thing for
+you&mdash;a memory of Macready playing Wolsey, quite clear and in excellent
+preservation; the only one in the market. Oh, no, mum; we have already
+allowed for these memories being slightly soiled. Jones, this lady
+complains the memories we sent her were short."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[202]</span></p><div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i064.jpg" width="397" height="284" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;TWO GROSS ANECDOTES?&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>O'Donovan was not to be seen. I passed through the Buying Department,
+where the employees were beating down the prices of "kind
+remembrances," and through the Hire Department, where the clerks were
+turning up their noses at the old memories that had been pledged so
+often, into the Amnesia Agency. There I found the great organiser
+peering curiously at a sensitised plate.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," he said, "is that you? Here's a curiosity."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The memory of a murder. The patient paid well to have it off his
+mind, but I am afraid I shall miss the usual second profit, for who
+will buy it again?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will!" I cried, with a sudden inspiration. "Oh! what a fool I have
+been. I should have been your best customer. I ought to have bought up
+all sorts of memories, and written the most veracious novel the world
+has seen. I haven't got a murder in my new book, but I'll work one in
+at once. '<i>Eureka!</i>'"</p>
+
+<p>"Stash that!" he said revengefully. "You can have the memory with
+pleasure. I couldn't think of charging an old friend like you, whose
+moving from an address, which I've sold, to 22, Albert Flats, Victoria
+Square, Westminster, made my fortune."</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i065.jpg" width="206" height="394" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p>That was how I came to write the only true murder ever written. It
+appears that the seller, a poor labourer, had murdered a friend in
+Epping Forest, just to rob him of half-a-crown, and calmly hid him
+under some tangled brushwood. A few months afterwards, having
+unexpectedly come into a fortune, he thought it well to break entirely
+with his past, and so had the memory extracted at the Agency. This, of
+course, I did not mention, but I described the murder and the
+subsequent feelings of the assassin, and launched the book on the
+world with a feeling of exultant expectation.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[203]</span></p>
+
+<p>Alas! it was damned universally for its tameness and the improbability
+of its murder scenes. The critics, to a man, claimed to be authorities
+on the sensations of murderers, and the reading public, aghast, said I
+was flying in the face of Dickens. They said the man would have taken
+daily excursions to the corpse, and have been forced to invest in a
+season ticket to Epping Forest; they said he would have started if his
+own shadow crossed his path, not calmly have gone on drinking beer
+like an innocent babe at its mother's breast. I determined to have the
+laugh of them. Stung to madness, I wrote to the papers asserting the
+truth of my murder, and giving the exact date and the place of burial.
+The next day a detective found the body, and I was arrested. I asked
+the police to send for O'Donovan, and gave them the address of the
+Amnesia Agency, but O'Donovan denied the existence of such an
+institution, and said he got his living as secretary of the Shamrock
+Society.</p>
+
+<p>I raved and cursed him then&mdash;now it occurs to me that he had perhaps
+submitted himself (and everybody else) to amnesiastic treatment. The
+jury recommended me to mercy on the ground that to commit a murder for
+the<span class="pagenum">[204]</span> artistic purpose of describing the sensations bordered on
+insanity; but even this false plea has not saved my life.</p>
+
+<p>It may. A petition has been circulated by Mudie's, and even at the
+eighth hour my reprieve may come. Yet, if the third volume of my life
+be closed to-morrow, I pray that these, my last words, may be
+published in an <i>&eacute;dition de luxe</i>, and such of the profits as the
+publisher can spare be given to Geraldine.</p>
+
+<p>If I am reprieved, I will never buy another murderer's memory, not for
+all the artistic ideals in the world, I'll be hanged if I do.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[205]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="Mated_by_a_Waiter"><i>Mated by a Waiter.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">BLACK AND WHITE.</p>
+
+<p>Jones! I mention him here because he is the first and last word of the
+story. It is the story of what might be called a game of chess between
+me and him; for I never made a move, but he made a counter-move. You
+must remember though that he played, so to speak, blindfold, while I
+started the game, not with the view of mating him, but merely for the
+fun of playing.</p>
+
+<p>There was to be a Review of the Fleet, and the inhabitants of Ryde
+rejoiced, as befitted sons of the sea. Although many of them would be
+reduced to living in their cellars, like their own black-beetles, so
+that they might harbour the patriotic immigrant, they sacrificed
+themselves ungrudgingly. No, it was not the natives who grumbled.</p>
+
+<p>My friends, Jack Woolwich and Merton Towers, being in the Civil
+Service, naturally desired to pay a compliment to the less civil
+department of State, and picked their month's holiday so as to include
+the Review. They took care to let the Review come out at the posterior
+extremity of the holiday, so as to find them quite well and in the
+enjoyment of excellent quarters at economical rates. They selected a
+comfortable but unfashionable hotel, at moderate but<span class="pagenum">[206]</span> uninclusive
+terms, and joyously stretched their free limbs unswaddled by red-tape.
+Soon London became a forgotten nightmare.</p>
+
+<p>They wrote to me irregularly, tantalising me unwittingly with glimpses
+of buoyant wave and sunny pasture. It fretted me to be immured in the
+stone-prison of the metropolis, and my friends' letters did but
+sprinkle sea-salt on my wounds; for I was working up a medical
+practice in the northern district, and my absence might prove
+fatal&mdash;not so much, perhaps, to my patients as to my prospects. I was
+beginning to be recognised as a specialist in throats and eyes, and I
+invariably sent my clients' ears to my old hospital chum, Robins,
+which increased the respect of the neighbourhood for my professional
+powers. Your general practitioner is a suspiciously omniscient person,
+and it is far sager to know less and to charge more.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Ted," wrote the Woolwich Infant (of course we could not
+escape calling Jack Woolwich thus), "I do wish we had you here. Such
+larks! We've got the most comical cuss of a waiter you ever saw. I
+feel sure he would appeal irresistibly to your sense of humour. He
+seems to boss the whole establishment. His name is Jones; and when you
+have known him a day you feel that he is the only Jones&mdash;the only
+Jones possible. He is a middle-aged man, with a slight stoop and a
+cat-like crawl. His face is large and flabby, ornamented with
+mutton-chop whiskers, streaked as with the silver of half a century of
+tips. He is always at your elbow&mdash;a mercenary
+Mephistopheles&mdash;suggesting drives or sails, and recommending certain
+yachts, boats, and carriages with insinuative irresistibleness. He has
+the tenacity of an army of able-bodied leeches, and if you do not take
+his advice he spoils your day. You may shake him off by fleeing into
+the interior of the Isle, or<span class="pagenum">[207]</span> plunging into the sea; but you cannot be
+always trotting about or bathing; and at mealtimes he waits upon those
+who have disregarded his recommendations. He has a hopelessly
+corruptive effect on the soul, and I, who have always prided myself on
+my immaculate moral get-up, was driven to desperate lying within
+twenty-four hours of my arrival. I told him how much I had enjoyed the
+carriage-drive he had counselled, or the sail he had sanctioned by his
+approval; and, in return, he regaled me with titbits at our <i>table
+d'h&ocirc;te</i> dinner. But the next day he followed me about with large,
+reproachful eyes, in grieved silence. I saw that he knew all; and I
+dragged myself along with my tail between my legs, miserably asking
+myself how I could regain his respect.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i066.jpg" width="223" height="418" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;THE INFANT.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"Wherever I turned I saw nothing but those dilated orbs of rebuke. I
+took refuge in my bedroom, but he glided in to give me a bad French
+halfpenny the chambermaid had picked up under my bed; and the implied
+contrast to be read in those eyes, between the honesty of the
+establishment and my own, was more than I could bear. I<span class="pagenum">[208]</span> flew into a
+passion&mdash;the last resource of detected guilt&mdash;and irrelevantly told
+him I would choose my own amusements, and that I had not come down to
+increase his commissions.</p>
+
+<p>"Ted, till my dying day I shall not forget the dumb martyrdom of those
+eyes! When he was sufficiently recovered to speak, he swore, in a
+voice broken by emotion, that he would scorn taking commissions from
+the quarters I imagined. Ashamed of my unjust suspicions, I
+apologised, and went out that afternoon alone for a trip in the
+<i>Mayblossom</i>, and was violently sick. Merton funked it because the
+weather was rough, and had a lucky escape; but he had to meet Jones in
+the evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Merton's theory is, that Jones doesn't get commissions, for the
+simple reason that the wagonettes and broughams and bath-chairs and
+boats and yachts he recommends all belong to him, and that the nominal
+proprietors are men of straw, stuffed by the only Jones. This theory
+is, I must admit, borne out by the evidence of O'Rafferty, a jolly old
+Irishman, whose wife died here early in the year, and who has been
+making holiday ever since. He says that Jones had a week off in March
+when there was hardly anybody in the hotel, and he was to be seen
+driving a wagonette between Ryde and Cowes daily. And, indeed, there
+is something curiously provincial and plebeian about Jones's mind
+which suggests a man who has risen from the cab-ranks.</p>
+
+<p>"His ideas of tips are delightfully democratic, and you cannot insult
+him even with twopence. He handles a bottle of cheap claret as
+reverently as a Russian the image of his saint, and he has never got
+over his awe of champagne. To drink Monopole at dinner is to mount a
+pedestal of dignity, and I completely recovered his esteem by
+drowning<span class="pagenum">[209]</span> the memories of that awful marine experience in a pint of
+'dry.' When he draws the champagne cork he has a sacerdotal air, and
+he pours out the foaming liquid with the obsequiousness of an
+archbishop placing on his sovereign's head the crown he may never hope
+to do more than touch. But perhaps the best proof of the humbleness of
+his origin is his veneration for the aristocracy. An average waiter
+is, from the nature of his occupation, liable to be brought into
+contact with the bluest of blood, and to have his undiminished<span class="pagenum">[210]</span>
+reverence for it tempered with a good-natured perception of mortal
+foibles. But Jones's attitude is one of awestruck unquestioning
+worship. He speaks of a lord with bated breath, and he dare not, even
+in conversation, ascend to a duke.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i067.jpg" width="292" height="406" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE ONLY JONES.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"It would seem that this is not one of the hotels which the
+aristocrat's fancy turns to thoughts of; for apparently only one lord
+has ever stayed here, judging by the frequency with which Jones
+whispers his name. Though some of us seem to have a beastly lot of
+money, and to do all the year round what Merton and I can only indulge
+in for a month, we are a rather plebeian company I fear, and it is
+simply overwhelming the way Jones rams Lord Porchester down our
+throats.</p>
+
+<p>"'When his lordship stayed here he partic'larly admired the view from
+that there window.' 'His lordship wouldn't drink anything but Pommery
+Green-oh; he used to swallow it by tumblersful, as you or I might
+rum-and-water, sir.' 'Ah, sir! Lord Porchester hired the <i>Mayblossom</i>
+all to himself, and often said: "By Jove! she's like a sea-gull. She
+almost comes near my own little beauty. I think I shall have to buy
+her, by gad I shall! and let them race each other."'</p>
+
+<p>"And the fellow is such an inveterate gossip that everybody here knows
+everybody else's business. The proprietor is a quiet, gentlemanly
+fellow, and is the only person in the place who keeps his presence of
+mind in the presence of Jones, and is not in mental subjugation to the
+flabby, florid, crawling boss of the rest of the show.</p>
+
+<p>"You may laugh, but I warrant you wouldn't be here a day before Jones
+would get the upper hand of you. On the outside, of course, he is as
+fixedly deferential as if every moment were to be your last, and the
+cab were waiting to<span class="pagenum">[211]</span> take you to the Station; but inwardly, you feel
+he is wound about you like a boa-constrictor. I do so long to see him
+swathing you in his coils! Won't you come down, and give your patients
+a chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Jack," I wrote back to the Infant, "I am so sorry that you
+are having bad weather. You don't say so, but when a man covers six
+sheets of writing-paper I know what it means. I must say you have
+given me an itching to try my strength with the only Jones; but, alas!
+this is a musical neighbourhood, and there is a run on sore throats,
+so I must be content to enjoy my Jones by deputy. Is there any other
+attraction about the shanty?"</p>
+
+<p>Merton Towers took up the running:</p>
+
+<p>"Barring ourselves and Jones," he wrote, "and perhaps O'Rafferty,
+there isn't a decent human being in the hotel. The ladies are either
+old and ugly, or devoted to their husbands. The only ones worth
+talking to are in the honeymoon stage. But Jones is worth a hundred
+petticoats: he is tremendous fun. We've got a splendid spree on now. I
+think the Infant told you that Jones has not enjoyed that actual
+contact with the 'hupper suckles' which his simple snobbish soul so
+thoroughly deserves; and that, in spite of the eternal Lord
+Porchester, his acquaintance is less with the <i>beau monde</i> than with
+the Bow and Bromley <i>monde</i>. Since the Infant and I discovered this we
+have been putting on the grand air. Unfortunately, it was too late to
+claim titles; but we have managed to convey the impression that,
+although commoners and plain misters, we have yet had the privilege of
+rubbing against the purple. We have casually and carelessly dropped
+hints of aristocratic acquaintances, and Jones has bowed down and
+picked them up reverently.</p>
+
+<p>"The other day, when he brought us our Chartreuse after dinner, the
+Infant said: 'Ah! I suppose you haven't<span class="pagenum">[212]</span> got Damtidam in stock?' The
+only Jones stared awestruck. 'Of course not! How can it possibly have
+penetrated to these parts yet?' I struck in with supercilious
+reproach. 'Damtidam! What is that, sir?' faltered Jones. 'What! you
+don't mean to say you haven't even heard of it?' cried the Infant in
+amaze. Jones looked miserable and apologetic. 'It's the latest
+liqueur,' I explained graciously. 'Awfully expensive; made by a new
+brotherhood of Anchorites in Dalmatia, who have secluded themselves
+from the world in order to concoct it. They only serve the
+aristocracy; but, of course, now and then a millionaire manages to get
+hold of a bottle. Lord Everett made me a present of some a couple of
+months ago, but I use it very, very sparingly, and I daresay the
+flask's at least half-full. I have it in my portmanteau.' 'How does it
+taste, sir?' enquired Jones, in a hushed, solemn whisper. 'Damtidam is
+not the sort of thing that would please the uncultured palate,' I
+replied haughtily. 'It's what they call an acquired taste, ain't it,
+sir?' he asked wistfully. 'Would you like to have a drop?' I said
+affably. 'Oh, Towers!' cried the Infant, 'what would Lord Everett
+say?' 'Well, but how is Lord Everett to know?' I responded. 'Jones
+will never let on.' 'His lordship shall never hear a word from my
+lips,' Jones protested gratefully. 'But you won't like it at first. To
+really enjoy Damtidam, you'll have to have several goes at it. Have
+you got a little phial?' Jones ran and fetched the phial, and I fished
+out of my portmanteau the bottle of dyspepsia mixture you gave us and
+filled Jones's phial. I watched him glide into the garden and put the
+phial to his lips with a heavenly expression, through which some
+suggestions of purgatory subsequently flitted. That was yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, Jones, how do you like Damtidam?' I enquired<span class="pagenum">[213]</span> genially this
+morning. 'Very 'igh-class, very 'igh-class in its taste, thank you,
+sir,' he replied. 'It's 'ardly for the likes o' me, I'm afraid; but as
+you've been good enough to give me some, I'll make so bold as to enjoy
+it. I 'ad a second sip at it this morning, and I liked it a deal
+better than yesterday. It requires time to get the taste, sir; but,
+depend upon it, I'll do my best to acquire it.' 'I wish you success!'
+I cried. 'Once you get used to it, it's simply delicious. Why, I'd
+never travel without a bottle of it. I often take it in the middle of
+the night. You finish that phial, Jones; never mind the cost. I'm
+writing to Lord Everett to-day, and I'll drop him a broad hint that I
+should like another.'</p>
+
+<p>"Eureka! As I write this a glorious idea has occurred to me. I <i>am</i>
+writing to you to-day, and you <i>are</i> the giver of the Damtidam,
+<i>alias</i> dyspepsia mixture. Oh, if you could only come down and pose as
+Lord Everett! What larks we should have! Do, old boy; it'll be the
+greatest spree we've ever had. Don't say 'no.' You want a change, you
+know you do; or you'll be on the sick-list yourself soon. Come, if
+only for a week! Surely you can find a chum to take your practice. How
+about Robins? He can't be all ears. I daresay he's equal to looking
+after your throats and eyes for a week. The Infant joins with me, and
+says that if you don't come he'll kill off Jones, and deprive you for
+ever of the pleasure of knowing him.</p>
+
+<p class="right3">"I remain,</p>
+
+<p class="right1">"Yours till Jones's death,</p>
+
+<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Merton Towers</span>.</p>
+
+<p>"P.S.&mdash;When you come, bring a dozen of Damtidam."</p>
+
+<p>The prospect of becoming Lord Everett flattered and tickled me, and
+was a daily temptation to me in my dreary<span class="pagenum">[214]</span> drudgery. To the appeal of
+the pictured visions of woods and waters was added the alluring figure
+of Jones, standing a little bent amid the smiling landscape, acquiring
+a taste for Damtidam; his pasty face kneaded ecstatically, his hand on
+the pit of his stomach. At last I could stand it no longer, I went to
+see Robins, and I wrote to my friends:</p>
+
+<p>"Jones wins! Expect me about ten days before the Review, so that we
+can return to town together.</p>
+
+<p>"When I first asked Robins to take my eyes, he was inclined to dash
+them; but the moment I let him into the plot against Jones, he agreed
+to do all my work on condition of being informed of the progress of
+the campaign.</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't tell anyone I'm leaving town, and Robins will forward my
+letters in an envelope addressed to Lord Everett.</p>
+
+<p>"P.S.&mdash;I am bottling a special brand of Damtidam."</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">A DIFFICULT OPENING.</p>
+
+<p>The proudest moment of Jones's life was probably when he assisted me
+to alight from the carriage I had ordered at the station. I wore a
+light duster, a straw hat, and goloshes (among other things), together
+with the air of having come over in the same steamboat as the
+Conqueror. I may as well mention here that I am tall, almost as tall
+as the Woolwich Infant, who frequently stands six foot two on my pet
+corn (Towers, by the way, is a short squat man, whose delusion that he
+is handsome can be read plainly upon his face). My features, like my
+habits, are regular. By complexion I belong to the fair sex; but there
+is a masculine<span class="pagenum">[215]</span> vigour about my physique and my language which redeems
+me from effeminateness. I do not mention my tawny moustache, because
+that is not an exclusively male trait in these days of women's rights.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, my lord!" said Jones, his obeisance so low and his
+voice so loud that I had to give the driver half-a-crown.</p>
+
+<p>I nodded almost imperceptibly, knowing that the surest way to impress
+Jones with my breeding was to display no trace of it. I strolled
+languidly into the hall, deferentially followed by the Infant and
+Merton Towers, leaving Jones distracted between the desire to handle
+my luggage and to show me my room.</p>
+
+<p>"Hexcuse me, my lord," said Jones, fluttered. "Jane, run for the
+master."</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse <i>me</i>, my lord," said the Infant; "I'll run up and wash for
+lunch. See you in a moment. Come along, Merton. It's so beastly
+high-up. When are you going to get a lift, Jones?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a moment, sir; in a moment!" replied Jones automatically.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed half-dazed.</p>
+
+<p>The quiet, gentlemanly young proprietor, who appeared to have been
+disturbed in his studies, for he held a volume of Dickens in his hand,
+conducted me to a gorgeously furnished bedroom on the first floor
+facing the sea.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the best we can do for your lordship," he said apologetically;
+"but with the Review so near&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>I waved my hand impatiently, wishing he could have done worse for me.
+In town I had been too busy to realise the situation in detail; but
+now it began to dawn upon me that it was going to be an expensive
+joke. Besides, I was separated from my friends, who were corridors
+away<span class="pagenum">[216]</span> and flights higher, and convivial meetings at midnight would
+mean disagreeable stockinged wanderings for somebody&mdash;a mere shadow of
+a trifle, no doubt, but little things like that worry more than they
+look. I was afraid to ask the price of this swell bedroom, and I began
+to comprehend the meaning of <i>noblesse oblige</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"The sitting-room adjoins," said the hotel-keeper, suddenly opening a
+door and ushering me into a magnificent chamber, with a lofty ceiling
+and a dado. The furniture was plush-covered and suggestive of footmen.
+"I presume you will not be taking your meals in public?"</p>
+
+<p>"H'm! H'm!" I muttered, tugging at my moustache. Then, struck by a
+bright idea, I said: "What do Mr. Woolwich and Mr. Towers do?"</p>
+
+<p>"They join the <i>table d'h&ocirc;te</i>, your lordship," said the proprietor.
+"They didn't require a sitting-room they said, as they should be
+almost entirely in the open air."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! well, I could hardly leave my friends," I said reflectively; "I
+suppose I shall have to join them at the <i>table d'h&ocirc;te</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay they would like to have your lordship with them," said the
+proprietor, with a faint, flattering smile.</p>
+
+<p>I smiled internally at my cunning in getting out of the sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p>"It's an awful bore," I yawned; "but I'm afraid they'd be annoyed if I
+ate up here alone, so&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll invite them up here for all meals? Yes, my lord," said Jones
+at my elbow.</p>
+
+<p>He had sidled up with his cat-like crawl. Through the open door of
+communication I saw he had deposited my boxes in the gorgeous bedroom.
+There was a moment of tense silence, in which I struggled desperately
+for a response. The brazen shudder of a gong vibrated through the
+house.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[217]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Is that lunch?" I asked in relief, making a step towards the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my lord," said Jones; "but not your lordship's lunch. It will be
+laid here immediately, my lord. I will go at once and convey your
+invitation to your lordship's friends."</p>
+
+<p>He hastened from the room, leaving me dumbfounded. I did not enjoy
+Jones as much as I had anticipated. In a moment a pretty parlour-maid
+arrived to lay the cloth. I became conscious that I was hungry and
+thirsty and travel-stained, and I determined to let things slide till
+after lunch, when I could easily set them right. The sunshine was
+flooding the room, and the sea was a dance of diamonds. The sight of
+the prandial preparations softened me. I retired to my beautiful
+bedroom and plunged my face into a basin of water.</p>
+
+<p>There was a knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in!" I spluttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Your hot water, my lord!" It was Jones.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got into enough already," I thought. "Don't want it," I growled
+peremptorily; "I always wash in cold."</p>
+
+<p>I would have my way in small things, I resolved, if I could not have
+it in great.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, your lordship; this is only for shaving."</p>
+
+<p>My cheeks grew hot beneath the fingers washing them. I remembered that
+I had overslept myself that morning, and neglected shaving lest I
+should miss my train. There were but a few microscopic hairs, yet I
+felt at once I had not the face to meet Jones at lunch.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you!" I said savagely.</p>
+
+<p>When I had wiped my eyes I found he was still in the room, bent in
+meek adoration.</p>
+
+<p>"What in the devil do you want now?" I thundered.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[218]</span></p>
+
+<p>His eyes lit up with rapture. It was as though I had made oath I was a
+nobleman and removed his last doubt.</p>
+
+<p>"Pommery Green-oh or Hideseek, my lord?"</p>
+
+<p>I cursed silently. I am of an easy-going disposition, and in my most
+penurious student days, had to spend twenty-five per cent more on my
+modest lunch whenever the waiter said: "Stout or bitter, sir?" But the
+present alternative was far more terrible. I was on the point of
+saying I was a teetotaller, when I remembered that would shut off my
+nocturnal whisky-and-water, and condemn me to goody-goody beverages at
+meals. I remembered, too, that Jones intended the champagne as much
+for my friends as myself, and that lords are proverbially
+disassociated from temperance. Oh! it was horrible that this
+oleaginous snob should rob a poor man of his beer! Perhaps I could
+escape with claret. In my agitation I commenced lathering my chin and
+returned no answer at all. The voice of Jones came at last, charged
+with deeper respect, but inevitable as the knell of doom.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you say Pommery Green-oh! my lord?"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" I yelled defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, my lord. Lord Porchester was very partial to our
+Hideseek&mdash;when he was here. We have an excellent year."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you had twelve months," I thought furiously. Then when the
+door closed upon him, I ground my razor savagely and muttered: "All
+right! I'll take it out of you in Damtidam."</p>
+
+<p>I heard the bustle of my friends arriving to lunch, and I shaved
+myself hastily. Then slipping on my coat and dabbing a bit of
+sticking-plaster on my chin, I threw open the door violently; for I
+was not going to let those two fellows off an exhibition of slang.
+They should have thought out<span class="pagenum">[219]</span> the plot more fully; have hired me a
+moderate bedroom in advance, and not have let me in for the luxuries
+of Lucullus. It was a cowardly desertion, their leaving me at the
+critical moment, and they should learn what I thought of it.</p>
+
+<p>"You ruffians!" I began; but the words died on my lips. Jones was
+waiting at table.</p>
+
+<p>It ought to have been a delicious lunch: broiled chickens and
+apple-tart; the cool breeze coming through the open window, the sea
+and the champagne sparkling. But I, who was hungriest, enjoyed it
+least; Jones, who ate nothing, enjoyed it most. The Infant and Merton
+Towers simply overflowed with high spirits, keeping up a running fire
+of aristocratic allusions, which galled me beyond endurance.</p>
+
+<p>"By the way, how is the dowager-duchess?" wound up the Infant.</p>
+
+<p>"D&mdash;&mdash; the dowager-duchess!" I roared, losing the remains of my
+temper.</p>
+
+<p>Jones grew radiant, and the Infant winked irritating approval of my
+natural touches. Such contempt for duchesses could only be bred of
+familiarity. At last I could contain myself no longer; I must either
+explode or have a fit. I sent Jones for cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>Directly the door closed those two men turned upon me.</p>
+
+<p>"I say, old fellow," exclaimed Towers reproachfully, "isn't this just
+going it a little too far?"</p>
+
+<p>"What in creation made you take these howling apartments?" asked the
+Infant. "Review time, too! They've been saving up these rooms,
+foreseeing there would be some tip-top swells crowded out of the
+fashionable hotels. Why, there's a cosy little crib next to ours I
+made sure you'd have."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I call this cool!" I gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"So it is," said the Infant; "I admit that. It's the coolest<span class="pagenum">[220]</span> room in
+the house. It'll be real jolly up here; and if you can stand the
+racket I'm sure I'm not the chap to grumble."</p>
+
+<p>"You must have been doing beastly well, old man," Towers put in
+enviously; "to feed us like critics on chicken and champagne. I
+suppose they'll be opening new cemeteries down your way presently."</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, my fine fellows," I said ferociously, "don't you forget
+that there's plenty of room still in Ryde Churchyard."</p>
+
+<p>"Hallo, Ted!" cried the Infant, looking up with ingenuous surprise, "I
+thought you came down here on a holiday?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stash that!" I said. "It's you who've got me into this hole, and you
+know it."</p>
+
+<p>"Hole!" cried Towers, looking round the room in amaze. "He calls this
+a hole! Hang it all, my boy, are you a millionaire? I call this good
+enough for a lord."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but as I'm neither," I said grimly, "I should like you to
+understand that I'm not going to pay for this spread."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" gasped the Infant. "Invite a man to lunch, and expect him to
+square the bill?"</p>
+
+<p>"I never invited you!" I said indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Who then?" said Towers sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"Jones!" I answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my lord! Sorry to have kept your lordship waiting; but I think
+you will find these cigarettes to your liking. I haven't been at this
+box since Lord Porchester was here, and it got mislaid."</p>
+
+<p>"Take them away!" I roared. "They're Egyptians!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my lord!" said Jones, in delight.</p>
+
+<p>He glided proudly from the room.</p>
+
+<p>"'Jones invited us?'" pursued the Infant. "What rot!<span class="pagenum">[221]</span> As if Jones
+would dare do anything you hadn't told him. <i>We</i> are his slaves. But
+you? Why, he hangs on your words!"</p>
+
+<p>"D&mdash;&mdash; him! I should like to see him hanging on something higher!" I
+cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, your language <i>is</i> low," admitted the Infant. "But, seriously,
+what's all the row about? I thought this champagne lunch was a bit of
+realism, just to start off with."</p>
+
+<p>I explained briefly how Jones had coiled himself around me, even as
+they had described. The dado echoed their ribald laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," said the Infant, "it's only right you should give a lunch
+the day you come into a peerage. It's really too much to expect us to
+pay scot, when there was a beautiful lunch of cold beef and pickles
+waiting for us in the dining-room, and included in our terms per week.
+We aren't going to pay for two lunches."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind the lunch," I said, smiling, my sense of humour
+returning now that I had poured forth my grievance. "I'd gladly give
+you chaps a lunch any day, and I'm pleased you enjoyed it so much.
+But, for the rest, I'm going to run this joke by syndicate, or not at
+all. I only came down with a tenner."</p>
+
+<p>"A pound a day!" said Towers, "that ought to be enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, there's a pound gone bang over this lunch already!" I retorted.</p>
+
+<p>"And then there's the apartments," put in the Infant roguishly. "I
+wonder what they'll tot up to?"</p>
+
+<p>"Jones alone knows," I groaned.</p>
+
+<p>He came in&mdash;a veritable devil&mdash;while his name was on my lips, with a
+new box of cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>"Clear away!" I said briefly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[222]</span></p>
+
+<p>He cleared away, and we breathed freely. We leaned back in the
+plush-covered easy-chairs, sending rings of fragrant smoke towards the
+blue horizon, and I felt more able to face the situation calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay we can lend you five quid between us," said Towers.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the good of a loan to an honest man?" I asked. "Can't we work
+the joke without such a lot of capital? The first thing is to get out
+of these rooms, and into that cosy little crib near you. I can say I
+yearn for your society."</p>
+
+<p>"But have you the courage to look Jones in the face and tell him
+that?" queried Towers dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>I hesitated. I felt instinctively that Jones would be dreadfully
+shocked if I changed my palatial apartments for a cheap bedroom; that
+it would be better if some one else broke the news.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, the Infant'll explain," I said lightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of the sort," said the Infant; "it won't wash now. Besides,
+they'd make you shell out in any case. They'd pretend they turned lots
+of applicants away this morning, because the rooms were let. No, keep
+the bedroom, and we'll go shares in this sitting-room. It's jollier to
+have a proper private room."</p>
+
+<p>"Good!" I said. "Then it only remains to escape from these special
+meals and the champagne."</p>
+
+<p>"You leave that to me," said the Infant. "I'll tell Jones that you
+hunger for our company at meals, but that we can't consent to come up
+here, because you, with that reckless prodigality which is wearing the
+dowager-duchess to a shadow, insist on paying for everything consumed
+on your premises, so that you must e'en come to the general table.
+Jones will be glad enough to trot you round."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[223]</span></p>
+
+<p>"And I'll tell him," added Towers, "that, with that determined
+dipsomania which is making the money-lenders daily friendlier to your
+little brother, you swill champagne till you fly at waiters' throats
+like a mad dog, and that it is our sacred duty to diet you on
+table-beer or Tintara."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't it be simpler to tell him the truth?" I asked feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"What!" gasped the Infant, "chuck up the sponge? Don't spoil the
+loveliest holiday I ever had, old man. Just think how you will go up
+in his estimation, when we tell him you are a spendthrift and a
+drunkard! For pity's sake, don't throw a gloom over Jones's life."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," I said, relenting. "Only the exes must be cut down. The
+motto must be, 'Extravaganza without extravagance, or farces
+economically conducted.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Right you are!" they said; and then we smoked on in halcyon
+voluptuousness, now and then passing the matches or a droll remark
+about Jones. In the middle of one of the latter there was a knock at
+the door, and Jones entered.</p>
+
+<p>"The carriage will be round in five minutes, my lord," he announced.</p>
+
+<p>"The carriage!" I faltered, growing pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my lord. I took the liberty of thinking your lordship wouldn't
+waste such a fine afternoon indoors."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I'm going out at once," I said resolutely. "But I shan't drive."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, my lord; I will countermand the carriage, and order a
+horse. I presume your lordship would like a spirited one? Jayes, up
+the street, has a beautiful bay steed."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you; I don't care for riding&mdash;er&mdash;other people's horses."</p>
+
+<p>"No; of course not, my lord. I'll see that the <i>May blossom</i><span class="pagenum">[224]</span> is
+reserved for your lordship's use this afternoon. Your lordship will
+have time for a glorious sail before dinner."</p>
+
+<p>He hastened from the room.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd better have the carriage," said the Infant drily; "it's cheaper
+than the yacht. You'll have to have it once, and you may as well get
+it over. After one trial, you can say it's too springless and the
+cushions are too crustaceous for your delicate anatomy."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see him at Jericho first!" I cried, and wrenched at the
+bell-pull with angry determination.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my lord!"</p>
+
+<p>He stood bent and insinuative before me.</p>
+
+<p>"I won't have the yacht."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, my lord; then I won't countermand the carriage."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to go.</p>
+
+<p>"Jones!" I shrieked.</p>
+
+<p>He looked back at me. His eyes, full of a trusting reverence, met
+mine. My resolution began oozing out at every pore.</p>
+
+<p>"Is&mdash;is&mdash;are <i>you</i> going with the carriage?" I stammered, for want of
+something to say.</p>
+
+<p>"No, my lord," he answered wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>That settled it. I let him depart without another word.</p>
+
+<p>It was certainly a pleasant drive through the delightful scenery of
+the Isle, and I determined, since I had to pay the piper, to enjoy the
+dance. The Infant and Towers were hilarious to the point of vulgarity:
+I let myself go at the will of Jones. When we got back, we realised
+with a start that it was half-past six. The dressing-gong was
+sounding. Jones met me in the passage.</p>
+
+<p>"Dinner at seven, my lord, in your room."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[225]</span></p>
+
+<p>I made frantic motions to the Infant.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell him!" I breathed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's too late now," he whispered back. "To-morrow!"</p>
+
+<p>I telegraphed desperately to Towers. He shook his thick head
+helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you invited my friends to dinner?" I asked Jones bitingly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, my lord," he said simply. "I thought your lordship 'ad seen
+enough of them to-day."</p>
+
+<p>There was a suggestion of reproach in the apology. Jones was more
+careful of my dignity than I was.</p>
+
+<p>When I got to my room, I found, to my horror, my dress-clothes laid
+out on the bed&mdash;I had brought them on the off-chance of going to a
+local dance. Jones had opened my portmanteau. For a moment a cold
+chill traversed my spine, as I thought he must have seen the monogram
+on my linen, and discovered the imposture. Then I remembered with joy
+that it was an "E," which is the more formal initial of Ted, and would
+do for Everett. In my relief, I felt I must submit to the nuisance of
+dressing&mdash;in honour of Jones. While changing my trousers, a sudden
+curiosity took me. I peeped through the keyhole of my sitting-room,
+and saw Jones just arriving with another bottle of Heidsieck. I
+groaned. I knew I should have to drink it, to keep up the fiction
+Towers was going to palm off on Jones to-morrow. I felt like bolting
+on the spot, but I was in my Jaegers. Presently Jones sidled
+mysteriously towards my door and knelt down before it. It flashed upon
+me he wanted the keyhole I was occupying. I jumped up in alarm, and
+dressed with the decorum of a god with a worshipper's eye on him.</p>
+
+<p>I swallowed what Jones gave me, fuming. With the roast, a blessed
+thought came to soothe me. Thenceforward<span class="pagenum">[226]</span> I chuckled continuously. I
+refused the <i>parfait aux frais</i> and the savoury in my eagerness for
+the end of the meal. Revenge was sufficient sweets.</p>
+
+<p>"Haw, hum!" I murmured, caressing my moustache. "Bring me a Damtidam."</p>
+
+<p>I knew his little phial must be exhausted long since. I intended to
+give him a bottle.</p>
+
+<p>"Did your lordship say Damtidam?"</p>
+
+<p>"Damtidam!" I roared, while my heart beat voluptuous music. "You don't
+mean to say you don't keep it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, my lord! We laid in a big stock of it; but Lord Porchester was
+that fond of it (used to drink it like your lordship does champagne),
+I doubt if I could lay my hand on a bottle."</p>
+
+<p>"What an awful bo-ah!" I yawned. "I suppose I'll have to get a bottle
+of my own out of that little black box under my bed. I couldn't
+possibly go without it after dinner. Hang it all, the key is in my
+other trousers!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't trouble, my lord," said Jones anxiously. "I'll run and see
+if I can find any."</p>
+
+<p>I waited, gloating.</p>
+
+<p>Jones returned gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>"I've found plenty, my lord," he said, setting down a brimming
+liqueur-glass.</p>
+
+<p>He lingered about, clearing the table. His eye was upon me. I drank
+the Damtidam. Then Jones departed, and I went about kicking the
+furniture, and striding about in my desolate grandeur, like Napoleon
+at St. Helena.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the Infant and Towers came rushing in, choking with
+laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Your arrival has fired afresh all Jones's aristocratic ambitions,"
+gurgled Towers. "Ha! ha! ha!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[227]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Ho! ho! ho!" panted the Infant. "He's coaxed us out of all our
+remaining Damtidam."</p>
+
+<p>I grinned a sickly response.</p>
+
+<p>"Great Scot!" the Infant bellowed. "What's this howling wilderness of
+shirt-front?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's cooler," I explained.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">THE QUEEN COMES INTO PLAY.</p>
+
+<p>I had to breakfast in my room, but by lunch the next day my friends
+had found an opportunity to explain me to Jones. They had on several
+occasions strongly exhorted Jones to secrecy as to my rank, so that
+the eyes of the whole table were on me when I entered. I ate with the
+ease of one conscious of giving involuntary lessons in etiquette to a
+furtive-glancing bourgeoisie. The Infant gave me Tintara, to break me
+gradually of champagne and reduce me to malt. After lunch Towers
+remonstrated with Jones on having obviously given me away.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," protested Jones, in righteous indignation, "I promised to tell
+no one in the hotel, and I have kept my word!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, how do they know then?" enquired Towers.</p>
+
+<p>"I shouldn't be surprised if they read it in the <i>Visitors' List</i>,"
+Jones answered.</p>
+
+<p>Being now half-emancipated, I fell into the usual routine of a seaside
+holiday. I swam, I rowed, I walked, I lounged, whenever Jones would
+let me. One wet morning we even congratulated ourselves on our
+luxurious sitting-room, as we sat and smoked before the rain-whipt
+sea, till, unexpected, Jones brought up lunch for three. That evening,
+as we<span class="pagenum">[228]</span> were entering the dining-room, Jones observed humbly to the
+Infant and Towers:</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me, gentlemen; I 'ave 'ad to separate you from his lordship.
+We've 'ad such a influx of visitors for the Review, I've been 'ard put
+to it to squeeze them all in."</p>
+
+<p>Those wretched cowards marched feebly to a new extremity of the table,
+while I walked to my usual seat near the window, with anger flaming
+duskily on my brow. This time I was determined. I would stick to
+table-beer all the same.</p>
+
+<p>But before I dropped into my chair every trace of anger vanished. My
+heart throbbed violently, my dazzled eyes surveyed my <i>serviette</i>. At
+my side was one of the most charming girls I had ever met. When the
+Heidsieck came, I raised my glass as in a dream, and silently drank to
+the glorious creature nearest my heart&mdash;on the left hand.</p>
+
+<p>We medicos are not easily upset by woman's beauty; we know too well
+what it is made of. But there was something so exquisite about this
+girl's face as to make a hardened materialist hesitate to resolve her
+into a physiological formula. It was not long before I offered to pass
+her the pepper. She declined with thanks and brevity. Her accent
+grated unexpectedly on my ear: I was puzzled to know why. I spoke of
+the rain that still tapped at the window, as if anxious to come in.</p>
+
+<p>"It was raining when I left Paris," she said; "but up till then I had
+a lovely time."</p>
+
+<p>Now I saw what was the matter. She suffered from twang and was
+American. I have always had a prejudice against Americans&mdash;chiefly, I
+believe, because they always seem to be having "a lovely time." It was
+with a sense of partial disenchantment that I continued the
+conversation:</p>
+
+<p>"So you have been in Paris?" I said, thinking of the<span class="pagenum">[229]</span> old joke about
+good Americans going there when they die. "I must admit you look as if
+you had come from Heaven!"</p>
+
+<p>"So wretched as all that!" she retorted, laughing merrily. There was
+no twang in the laugh; it was a ripple of music.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mean an exile from Heaven," I answered: "an excursionist,
+with a return-ticket."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! but I'm not going back," she said, shaking her lovely head.</p>
+
+<p>"Not even when you die?" I asked, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess I shall need a warmer climate then!" she flashed back
+audaciously.</p>
+
+<p>"You're too good for that," I answered, without hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>I caught a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes, as she answered:</p>
+
+<p>"Gracious! you're very spry at giving strange folks certificates."</p>
+
+<p>"It's my business to give certificates," I answered, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Marriage certificates, my lord?" she asked roguishly.</p>
+
+<p>I was about to answer "Doctors' certificates," but her last two
+syllables froze the words on my lips.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you&mdash;know me?" I stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, your lordship," with a mock bow.</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;how&mdash;?" I faltered. "You've only just come."</p>
+
+<p>"Jones," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Jones!" I repeated, vexed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my lord."</p>
+
+<p>He glided up and re-filled my glass.</p>
+
+<p>"Jones is a nuisance," I said, when he was out of earshot again.</p>
+
+<p>"Jones is a Britisher!" she said enigmatically. "Surely you don't mind
+people knowing who you are?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[230]</span></p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid I do," I replied uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess your reputation must be real shady," she said, with her
+American candour. "You English lords, we have just about sized you up
+in the States."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;" I stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"No! don't tell me," she interrupted quickly; "I'd rather not know. My
+aunt here, that lady on my left,&mdash;she's a widow and half a Britisher,
+and respectable, don't you know,&mdash;will want me to cut you."</p>
+
+<p>"And you don't want to?" I exclaimed eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, one must talk to somebody," she said, arching her eyebrows.
+"It's all very well for my aunt. She's left her children at home.
+That's happiness enough for her. But that don't make things equally
+lively for me."</p>
+
+<p>"Your language is frank," I said laughingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's one of the languages you've forgotten how to speak in
+this old country."</p>
+
+<p>Again that musical ripple of mirth. Her fascination was fast
+enswathing me like another Jones, only a thousandfold more sweetly.
+Already I found her twang delightful, lending the last touch of charm
+to her original utterances. I looked up suddenly, and saw the Infant
+and Towers glaring enviously at me from the other end of the table.
+Then I was quite happy. True, they had the sprightly O'Rafferty
+between them, but he did not seem to console them&mdash;rather to chaff
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho! ho!" I roared, when we reached our sitting-room that night.
+"There's virtue in the peerage after all."</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up!" the Infant snarled. "If you think you're going to annex
+that ripping creature, I warn you that bloated aristocracy will have
+to settle up for its marble halls. We're running this thing by
+syndicate, remember."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but this isn't part of the profits," I urged defiantly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[231]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, isn't it?" put in Towers. "Why do you suppose Jones sat her next
+to you, if not as a prerogative of nobility?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but if I can get her to go out with me alone, that's a private
+transaction."</p>
+
+<p>"No go, Teddy," said the Infant. "We don't allow you to play for your
+own hand."</p>
+
+<p>"Or hers," added Towers. "While you were spooning, Jones was telling
+us all about her. Her name's Harper&mdash;Ethelberta Harper, and her old
+man is a Railway King, or something."</p>
+
+<p>"She's a queen&mdash;I don't care of what!" I said fervently. "We got very
+chummy, and I'm going to take her for a row to-morrow morning. It's
+not my fault if she doesn't pal on to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Stow that cant!" cried the Infant. "Either you surrender her to the
+syndicate or pay your own exes. Choose!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll compromise!" I said desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you don't! It's to prevent your compromising her we want to stand
+in. We'll all go for that row."</p>
+
+<p>"No, listen to my suggestion. I'll invite her to lunch after the row,
+and I'll invite you fellows to meet her."</p>
+
+<p>"But how do you know she'll come?" said Towers.</p>
+
+<p>"She will if I ask her aunt too."</p>
+
+<p>"Scoundrel, you've asked them both already!" cried the Infant.
+"Where's the compromise?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't asked <i>you</i> already," I reminded him.</p>
+
+<p>"No, but now you propose to use the capital of the syndicate!" he
+rejoined sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing of the kind," I retorted rashly.</p>
+
+<p>So it was settled. I had four guests to lunch, and Jones expanded
+visibly. The Infant and Towers kept Miss Harper pretty well to
+themselves, while I was left to entertain Mrs.<span class="pagenum">[232]</span> Windpeg, a comely but
+tedious lady, who gave me details of her life in England since she
+left New York, a newly married wife, twenty years before. She seemed
+greatly interested in these details. Ethelberta paid no attention to
+her aunt, but a great deal to my friends. Several times I found myself
+gnawing my lip instead of my wing. But I had my revenge at the <i>table
+d'h&ocirc;te</i>. Jones kept my friends remorselessly at bay, and religiously
+guarded my proximity to the lovely American. Strange mental
+revolution! The idea of tipping Jones actually commenced to germinate
+in my mind.</p>
+
+<p>It was on Review-day that I realised I was hopelessly in love. Of
+course my quartet of friends was at the windows of my sitting-room.
+Jones also selected this room to see the Review from, and I fancy he
+regaled my visitors with delicate refreshments throughout the day, and
+I remember being vaguely glad that he made amends for the general
+neglect of Mrs. Windpeg by offering her the choicest titbits; but I
+have no clear recollection of anything but Ethelberta. Her face was my
+Review, though there was no powder on it. The play of light on her
+cheeks and hair was all the man&oelig;uvres I cared for&mdash;the pearls of
+her mouth were my ranged rows of ships; and when everybody else was
+peering hopelessly into the thick smoke, my eyes were feasting on the
+sunshine of her face. I did not hear the cannon, nor the long, endless
+clamour of the packed streets, only the soft words she spoke from time
+to time.</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow morning I must go away," I murmured to her at dinner. I
+fancied she grew paler, but I could not be sure, for Jones at that
+moment changed my plate.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," she said simply. "Must you go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," I answered sadly. "My beautiful holiday is over. To-morrow, to
+work."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[233]</span></p>
+
+<p>"I thought, for you lords, life was one long holiday," she said,
+surprised.</p>
+
+<p>I was glad of the reminder. My love was hopeless. A struggling doctor
+could not ask for the hand of an heiress. Even if he could, it would
+be a poor recommendation to start with a confession of imposture. To
+ask, without confessing, were to become a scoundrel and a
+fortune-hunter of the lowest type. No; better to pass from her ken,
+leaving her memory of me untainted by suspicion&mdash;leaving my memory of
+her an idyllic, unfinished dream. And yet I could not help reflecting,
+with agony, that if I had not begun under false colours, if I had come
+to her only as what I was, I might have dared to ask for her
+love&mdash;yea, and perhaps have won it. Oh, how weak I had been not to
+tell her from the first! As if she would not have appreciated the
+joke! As if she would not have enrolled herself joyously in the
+campaign against Jones!</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! my life will be anything but a long holiday, I fear," I sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, you're not an hereditary legislator?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Legislation is not the hereditary disease I complain of," I said
+evasively.</p>
+
+<p>"What then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Love!" I replied desperately.</p>
+
+<p>She laughed gaily.</p>
+
+<p>"I guess that's an original view of love."</p>
+
+<p>"Why? My parents suffered from it: at least, I hope they did."</p>
+
+<p>"Doubtful! Your Upper Ten is usually supposed to have cured marriage
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>She bent her head over her plate, so that I strove in vain to read her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's a beastly shame," I said. "Don't you think<span class="pagenum">[234]</span> so, Miss
+Harper&mdash;Ethelberta? May I call you Ethelberta?"</p>
+
+<p>"If it gives you any comfort," she said plumply.</p>
+
+<p>"It gives me more than comfort," I rejoined.</p>
+
+<p>A wild hope flamed in my breast. What if she loved me after all! I
+would speak the word. But no! If she did, I had won her love under a
+false glamour of nobility. Better, far better, to keep both my secrets
+in my own breast. Besides, had I not seen she was a flirt? I continued
+to call her Ethelberta, but that was all. When we rose from table I
+had not spoken; knowing that my friends would claim my society for the
+rest of the evening, I held out my hand in final farewell. She took
+it. Her own hand was hot. I clasped it for a moment, gazing into the
+wonderful blue eyes; then I let it go, and all was over.</p>
+
+<p>"I do believe Teddy is hit!" Towers said when I came into our room,
+whither they had preceded me.</p>
+
+<p>"Rot!" I said, turning my face away. "A seasoned bachelor like me.
+Heigho! I shall be awfully glad to get to work again to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the Infant. "I see from the statistics that the mortality
+of your district has declined frightfully. That Robins must be a
+regular duffer."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll soon set that right!" I exclaimed, with a forced grin.</p>
+
+<p>"She certainly is a stunner," Towers mused.</p>
+
+<p>"Hullo! I'm afraid it's Merton that's damaged," I laughed
+boisterously.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if she wasn't an heiress&mdash;" began Towers slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"She might have you," finished the Infant. "But I say, boys, we'd
+better ask for our bills; we've got to be off in the morning by the
+8.5. Jones mightn't be up when we leave."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[235]</span></p>
+
+<p>The room echoed with sardonic laughter at the idea. There was no need
+to ring for Jones; he found two pretexts an hour to come and gaze upon
+me. When my bill came, I went to the window for air and to hide my
+face from Jones.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Jones!" cried the Infant, guessing what was up. "We'll
+leave it on the table before we go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Well?" my friends enquired eagerly, when Jones had crawled off.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-seven pounds two and tenpence!" I groaned, letting the
+accursed paper drift helplessly to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"D&mdash;&mdash;d reasonable!" said the Infant.</p>
+
+<p>"You would go it!" Towers added soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Reasonable or not," I said, "I've only got six pounds in my pockets."</p>
+
+<p>"You said you brought ten," said Towers.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! but what of carriage-sails and yacht-drives?" I cried
+agitatedly.</p>
+
+<p>"You're drunk," said the Infant brutally. "However, I suppose, before
+going into dividing exes we must get together the gross sum."</p>
+
+<p>It was easier said than done. When every farthing had been scraped
+together, we were thirteen pounds short on the three bills. We held a
+long council of war, discussing the possibilities of surreptitious
+pledging&mdash;the unspeakable Jones, playing his blindfold game, had
+reduced us to pawn&mdash;but even these were impracticable.</p>
+
+<p>"Confound you!" cried Merton Towers. "Why didn't you think of the bill
+before?"</p>
+
+<p>As if I had not better things to think of!</p>
+
+<p>The horror of facing Jones in the morning drove us to the most
+desperate devices; but none seemed workable.</p>
+
+<p>"There's only one way left of getting the coin, Teddy," said the
+Infant at last.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[236]</span></p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" I cried eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ask the heiress."</p>
+
+<p>It was an ambiguous phrase, but in whatever sense he meant it, it was
+a cruel and unmanly thrust; in my indignation I saw light.</p>
+
+<p>"What fools we have been!" I shouted. "It's as easy as A B C. I'm not
+in an office like you, bound to be back to the day&mdash;I stay on over
+to-morrow, and you send me on the money from town."</p>
+
+<p>"Where are we to get it from?" growled Towers.</p>
+
+<p>"Anywhere! anybody!" I cried excitedly; "I'll write to Robins at once
+for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not wire?" said the Infant.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see the necessity for wasting sixpence," I said; "we must be
+economical. Besides, Jones would read the wire."</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">THE WINNING MOVE.</p>
+
+<p>Time slipped on; but I could not tear myself away from this enchanted
+hotel. The departure of my friends allowed me to be nearly all day
+with Ethelberta.</p>
+
+<p>I had drowned reason and conscience: day followed day in a golden
+languor and the longer I stopped, the harder it was to go. At last
+Robins's telegrams became too imperative to be disregarded, and even
+my second supply of money would not suffice for another day.</p>
+
+<p>The bitter experience of parting had to be faced again; the miserable
+evening, when I had first called her Ethelberta, had to be repeated.
+We spoke little at dinner; afterwards, as I had not my friends to go
+to this time, we left<span class="pagenum">[237]</span> Mrs. Windpeg sitting over her dessert, and
+paced up and down in the little cultivated enclosure which separated
+the hotel from the parade. It was a balmy evening; the moon was up,
+silvering the greenery, stretching a rippling band across the sea, and
+touching Ethelberta's face to a more marvellous fairness. The air was
+heavy with perfume; everything combined to soften my mood. Tears came
+into my eyes as I thought that this was the very last respite. Those
+tears seemed to purge my vision: I saw the beauty of truth and
+sincerity, and felt that I could not go away without telling her who I
+really was; then, in future years, whatever she thought of me, I, at
+least, could think of her sacredly, with no cloud of falseness between
+me and her.</p>
+
+<p>"Ethelberta!" I said, in low trembling tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Everett!" she murmured responsively.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a confession to make."</p>
+
+<p>She flushed and lowered her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no!" she said agitatedly; "spare me that confession. I have heard
+it so often; it is so conventional. Let us part friends."</p>
+
+<p>She looked up into my face with that frank, heavenly glance of hers.
+It shook my resolution, but I recovered myself and went on:</p>
+
+<p>"It is not a conventional confession. I was not going to say I love
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"No?" she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Was it the tricksy play of the moon among the clouds, or did a shade
+of disappointment flit across her face? Were her words genuine, or was
+she only a coquette? I stopped not to analyse; I paused not to
+enquire; I forgot everything but the loveliness that intoxicated me.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;mean I was!" I stammered awkwardly; "I have loved you from the
+first moment I saw you."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[238]</span></p>
+
+<p>I strove to take her hand; but she drew it away haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord Everett, it is impossible! Say no more."</p>
+
+<p>The twang dropped from her speech in her dignity; her accents rang
+pure and sweet.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" I cried passionately. "Why is it impossible? You seemed to
+care for me."</p>
+
+<p>She was silent; at last she answered slowly:</p>
+
+<p>"You are a lord! I cannot marry a lord."</p>
+
+<p>My heart gave a great leap, then I felt cold as ice.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I am a lord?" I murmured wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! I&mdash;I&mdash;flirted with you at first out of pure fun&mdash;believe me,
+that was the truth. If I loved you now," her words were tremulous and
+almost inaudible, "it would be right that I should be punished. We
+must never meet again. Good-bye!"</p>
+
+<p>She stood still and extended her hand.</p>
+
+<p>I touched it with my icy fingers.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! if you had only let me confess just now what I wanted to!" I
+cried in agony.</p>
+
+<p>"Confess what?" she said. "Have you not confessed?"</p>
+
+<p>"No! You may disbelieve me now; but I wanted to tell you that I am not
+a lord at all, that I only became one through Jones."</p>
+
+<p>Her lovely eyes dilated with surprise. I explained briefly,
+confusedly.</p>
+
+<p>She laughed, but there was a catch in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen!" she said hurriedly, starting pacing again; "I, too, have a
+confession to make. Jones has corrupted me too. I'm not an heiress at
+all, nor even an American&mdash;just a moderately successful London
+actress, resting a few weeks, and Mrs. Windpeg is only my companion
+and general factotum, the widow of a drunken stage-carpenter, who left
+her without resources, poor thing. But we had hardly<span class="pagenum">[239]</span> crossed the
+steps of the hotel, before Jones mentioned Lord Everett was in the
+place, and buzzed the name so in our ears that the idea of a wild
+frolic flashed into my head. I am a great flirt, you know, and I
+thought that while I had the chance I would test the belief that
+English lords always fall in love with American heiresses."</p>
+
+<p>"It was no test," I interrupted. "A Chinese Mandarin would fall in
+love with you equally."</p>
+
+<p>"I let Mrs. Windpeg tell Jones all about me&mdash;imaginatively," she went
+on with a sad smile; "I told her to call me Harper, because <i>Harper's
+Magazine</i> came into my mind. But it was Jones who seated us together.
+I will believe that you took a genuine liking to me; still, it was a
+foolish freak on both sides, and we must both forget it as soon as
+possible."</p>
+
+<p>"I can never forget it!" I said passionately; "I love you; and I dare
+to think you care for me, though while you fancied I was a peer you
+stifled the feeling that had grown up despite you. Believe me, I
+understand the purity of your motives, and love you the more for
+them."</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye!" she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not say 'good-bye'! I have little to offer you, but it
+includes a heart that is aching for you. There is no reason now why we
+should part."</p>
+
+<p>Her lips were white in the moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>"I never said I loved you," she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Not in so many words," I admitted; "but why did you let me call you
+Ethelberta?" I asked passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"Because it is not my name," she answered; and a ghost of the old gay
+smile lit up the lovely features.</p>
+
+<p>I stood for a moment dumbfounded. Unconsciously we had come to a
+standstill under the window of the dining-room.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[240]</span></p>
+
+<p>She took advantage of my consternation to say more lightly:</p>
+
+<p>"Come, let us part friends."</p>
+
+<p>I dimly understood that, in some subtle way I was too coarse to
+comprehend, she was ashamed of the part she had played throughout,
+that she would punish herself by renunciation. I knew not what to say;
+I saw the happiness of my life fading before my eyes. She held out her
+hand for the last time and I clasped it mechanically. So we stood,
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>"What does that matter, Mrs. Windpeg? You're a real lady, that's
+enough for me. It wasn't because I thought you had money that I
+ventured to raise my eyes to you."</p>
+
+<p>We started. It was the voice of Jones. Mrs. Windpeg had evidently
+lingered too long over her dessert.</p>
+
+<p>"But I tell you I have nothing at all&mdash;nothing!" came the voice of
+Mrs. Windpeg.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want it. You see, I'm like you&mdash;not what I seem. This place
+belongs to me, only I was born and bred a waiter in this very hotel,
+and I don't see why the 'ouse shouldn't profit by the tips instead of
+a stranger. My son does the show part; but he ain't fit for anything
+but reading Dickens and other low-class writers, and I feel the want
+of a real lady, knowing the ways of the aristocrats. What with Lord
+Porchester and Lord Everett, it looks as if this hotel is going to be
+fashionable and I know there's lots of 'igh-class wrinkles I ain't
+picked up yet. Only lately I was flummoxed by a gent asking for a
+liqueur I'd never 'eard of. You're mixed up with tip-top swells; I
+loved you from the moment I saw you fold your first <i>serviette</i>. I'm a
+widower, you're a widow. Let bygones be bygones. Why shouldn't we make
+a match of it?"</p>
+
+<p>We looked at each other and laughed; false subtleties were swept away
+by a wave of mutual merriment.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[241]</span></p>
+
+<p>"'Let bygones be bygones. Why shouldn't we make a match of it?'" I
+echoed. "Jones is right." I tightened my grasp of her hand and drew
+her towards me, almost without resistance. "You're going to lose your
+companion, you'll want another."</p>
+
+<p>Her lovely face came nearer and nearer.</p>
+
+<p>"Besides," I said gaily, "I understand you're out of an engagement."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," she said; "I don't care for an engagement in the Provinces,
+and I have sworn never to marry in the profession: they're a bad lot."</p>
+
+<p>"Call me an actor?"</p>
+
+<p>My lips were almost on hers.</p>
+
+<p>"You played Lord Dundreary&mdash;not unforgivably."</p>
+
+<p>Our lips met!</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Augustus," came the voice of Mrs. Windpeg, "I feel so faint with
+happiness!"</p>
+
+<p>"Loose your arms a moment, my popsy. I'll fetch you a drop of
+Damtidam!" answered the voice of Jones.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[242]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="The_Principal_Boy"><i>The Principal Boy.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>I.</h3>
+
+<p>To sit out a play is a bore; to sit out a dance demands less patience.
+Even when you do it merely to prevent your partner dancing with you,
+it is the less disagreeable alternative. But it sometimes makes you
+giddier than galoping. Frank Redhill lost his head&mdash;a well-built
+head&mdash;completely through indulging in it; and without the head to look
+after it, the heart soon goes. He held Lucy's little hand in his hot
+clasp. She wished he would get himself gloves large enough not to
+split at the thumbs, and felt quite affectionate towards the dear,
+untidy boy. As a woman almost out of her teens, she could permit
+herself a motherly feeling for a lad who had but just attained his
+majority. The little thing looked very sweet in a demure dress of
+nun's veiling, which Frank would have described as "white robes." For
+he was only an undergraduate. Some undergraduates are past masters in
+the science and art of woman; but Frank was not in that set. Nor did
+he herd with the athletic, who drift mainly into the unpaid
+magistracy, nor with the worldly, who usually go in for the church. He
+was a reading man. Only he did not stick to the curriculum, but fed
+himself on the conceits of the poets, and thirsted to redeem mankind.
+So he got a second-class. But this is anticipating. Perhaps Lucy had
+been anticipating, too. At any rate she went through the scene as
+admirably as if<span class="pagenum">[243]</span> she had rehearsed for it. And yet it was presumably
+the first time she had been asked to say: "I love you"&mdash;that wonderful
+little phrase, so easy to say and so hard to believe. Still, Lucy said
+and Frank believed it.</p>
+
+<p>Not that Lucy did not share his belief. It must be for love that she
+was conceding Frank her hand&mdash;since her mother objected to the match.
+As the nephew of a peer, Frank could give her rather better society
+than she now enjoyed, even if he could not give her that of the peer,
+who had an hereditary feud with him. Of course she could not marry him
+yet, he was quite too poor for that, but he was a young man of
+considerable talents&mdash;which are after all gold pieces. When fame and
+fortune came to him, Lucy would come and join the party. <i>En
+attendant</i>, their souls would be wed. They kissed each other
+passionately, sealing the contract of souls with the red sealing-wax
+of burning lips. To them in Paradise entered the Guardian Angel with
+flaming countenance, and drove them into the outer darkness of the
+brilliant ball-room.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," said the Guardian Angel, who was Lucy Grayling's mother,
+"there is going to be an interval, and Mrs. Bayswater is so anxious
+for you to give that sweet recitation from Racine."</p>
+
+<p>So Lucy declaimed one of Athalie's terrible speeches in a way that
+enthralled those who understood it, and made those who didn't,
+enthusiastic.</p>
+
+<p>The applause did not seem to gratify the Guardian Angel as much as
+usual. Lucy wondered how much she had seen, and, disliking useless
+domestic discussion, extorted a promise of secrecy from her lover
+before they parted. He did not care about keeping anything from his
+father&mdash;especially something of which his approval was dubious. Still,
+all's fair and honourable in love&mdash;or love makes it seem so.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[244]</span></p>
+
+<p>Frank took a solemn view of engagement, and embraced Lucy in his
+general scheme for the redemption of mankind. He felt she was a sacred
+as well as a precious charge, and he promised himself to attend to her
+spiritual salvation in so far as her pure instincts needed guidance.
+He directed her reading in bulky letters bearing the Oxford post-mark.
+Meantime, Lucy disapproved of his neckties. She thought he would be
+even nicer with a loving wife to look after his wardrobe.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>II.</h3>
+
+<p>When Frank achieved the indistinction of a second-class, as
+prematurely revealed, he went to Canada, and became a farm-pupil. It
+was not that his physique warranted the work, but there seemed no way
+in the old country of making enough money to marry Lucy (much less to
+redeem mankind) on. He was suffering, too, at the moment from a
+disgust with the schools, and a sentimental yearning to "return to
+nature."</p>
+
+<p>The parting with Lucy was bitter, but he carried her bright image in
+his heart, and wrote to her by every mail. In Canada he did not look
+at a woman, as the saying goes; true, the opportunities were scant on
+the lonely log-farm. Absence, distance, lent the last touch of
+idealisation and enchantment to his conception of Lucy. She stood to
+him not only for Womanhood and Purity, but for England, Home, and
+Beauty. Nay, the thought of her was even Culture, when the evening
+found him too worn with physical toil to read a page of the small
+library he had brought with him. He saw his way to profitable farming
+on his own account in a few years' time. Then Lucy would come out to
+him, if they should be too impatient to wait till he had made money
+enough to go to her.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[245]</span></p>
+
+<p>Lucy's letters did nothing to disabuse him of his ideals or his aims.
+They were charming, affectionate, and intellectual. Midway, in the
+batch he treasured more than eastern jewels, the sheets began to wear
+mourning for Lucy's mother. The Guardian Angel was gone&mdash;whether to
+continue the r&ocirc;le none could say. Frank comforted the orphaned girl as
+best he could with epistolary kisses and condolences, and hoped she
+would get along pleasantly with her aunt till the necessity for that
+good relative vanished. And so the correspondence went on, Lucy's mind
+improving visibly under her lover's solicitous guidance. Then one day
+Redhill the elder cabled that by the death of his brother and nephew
+within a few days of each other, he had become Lord Redhill, and Frank
+consequently heir to a fine old peerage, and with an heir's income.
+Whereupon Frank returned forthwith from nature to civilisation. Now he
+could marry Lucy (and redeem mankind) immediately. Only he did not
+tell Lucy he was coming. He could not deny himself (or her) the
+pleasure of so pleasurable a surprise.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>III.</h3>
+
+<p>It was a cold evening in early November when Frank's hansom drove up
+to the little house near Bond Street, where Lucy's aunt resided. He
+had not been to see his father yet; Lucy's angel-face hovered before
+him, warming the wintry air, and drawing him onwards towards the roof
+that sheltered her. The house was new to him; and as he paused outside
+for a moment, striving to still his emotion, his eye caught sight of a
+little placard in the window of the ground floor, inscribed
+"Apartments." He shuddered, a pang akin to self-reproach shot through
+him. Lucy's<span class="pagenum">[246]</span> aunt was poor, was reduced to letting lodgings. Lucy
+herself had, perhaps, been left penniless. Delicacy had restrained her
+from alluding to her poverty in her letter. He had taken everything
+too much for granted&mdash;surely, straitened as were his means, he should
+have proffered her some assistance. A suspicion that he lacked worldly
+wisdom dawned upon him for the first time, as he rang the bell. Poor
+little Lucy! Well, whatever she had gone through, the bright days were
+come at last. The ocean which had severed them for so many weary moons
+no longer rolled between them&mdash;thank God, only the panels of the
+street-door divided them now. In another instant that darling head&mdash;no
+more the haunting elusive phantom of dream&mdash;would be upon his breast.
+Then as the door opened, the thought flashed upon him that she might
+not be in&mdash;the idea of waiting a single moment longer for her turned
+him sick. But his fears vanished at the encouraging expression on the
+face of the maid servant who opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Gray's upstairs," she mumbled, without waiting for him to speak.
+And, all intelligent reflection swamped by a great wave of joy, he
+followed her up one narrow flight of stairs, and passed eagerly into a
+room to which she pointed. It was a bright, cosy room, prettily
+furnished, and a cheerful fire crackled on the hearth. There were
+books and flowers about, and engravings on the walls. The little round
+table was laid for tea. Everything smiled "welcome." But these details
+only gradually penetrated Frank's consciousness&mdash;for the moment all he
+saw was that <i>She</i> was not there. Then he became aware of the fire,
+and moved involuntarily towards it, and held his hands over it, for
+they were almost numbed with the cold. Straightening himself again, he
+was startled by his own white face in the glass.</p>
+
+<p>He gazed at it dreamily, and beyond it towards the folding-doors,<span class="pagenum">[247]</span>
+which led into an adjoining room. His eyes fixed themselves fascinated
+upon these reflected doors, and strayed no more. It was through them
+that she would come.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a dreadful thought occurred to him. When she came through
+those doors, what would be the effect of his presence upon her? Would
+not the sudden shock, joyful though it was, upset the fragile little
+beauty? Had he not even heard of people dying from joy? Why had he not
+prepared her for his return, if only to the tiniest extent? The
+suspicion that he lacked worldly wisdom gained in force. Tumultuous
+suggestions of retreat crossed his mind&mdash;but before he could move, the
+folding-doors in the mirror flew apart, and a radiant image dashed
+lightly through them. It was a vision of dazzling splendour that made
+his eyes blink&mdash;a beautiful glittering figure in tights and tinsel,
+the prancing prince of pantomime. For an infinitesimal fraction of a
+second, Frank had the horror of the thought that he had come into the
+wrong house.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, George," the Prince cried: "I had almost given you up."</p>
+
+<p>Great God! Was the voice, indeed, Lucy's? Frank grasped at the mantel,
+sick and blind, the world tumbling about his ears. The suspicion that
+he lacked worldly wisdom became a certainty. Slowly he turned his head
+to face the waves of dazzling colour that tossed before his dizzy
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The Prince's outstretched hand dropped suddenly. A startled shriek
+broke from the painted lips. The re-united lovers stood staring half
+blindly at each other. More than the Atlantic rolled between them.</p>
+
+<p>Lucy broke the terrible silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Brute!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[248]</span></p>
+
+<p>It was his welcome home.</p>
+
+<p>"Brute?" he echoed interrogatively, in a low, hoarse whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Brute and cad!" said the Prince vehemently, the musical tones
+strident with anger. "Is this your faith, your loyalty&mdash;to sneak back
+home like a thief&mdash;to peep through the keyhole to see if I was a good
+little girl&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy! Don't!" he interrupted in anguished tones. "As there is a
+heaven above us, I had no suspicion&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you have now," the Prince interrupted with a bitter laugh.
+Neither made any attempt to touch the other, though they were but a
+few inches apart. "Out with it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy, I have nothing to say against you. How should I? I know
+nothing. It is for you to speak. For pity's sake tell me all. What is
+this masquerade?"</p>
+
+<p>"This masquerade?" She touched her pink tights&mdash;he shuddered at the
+touch. "These are&mdash;" She paused. Why not tell the easy lie and be done
+with the whole business, and marry the dear, devoted boy? But the mad
+instinct of revolt and resentment swept over her in a flood that
+dragged the truth from her heart and hurled it at him. "These are the
+legs of Prince Prettypet. If I am lucky, I shall stand on them in the
+pantomime of <i>The Enchanted Princess</i>; <i>or, Harlequin Dick Turpin</i>, at
+the Oriental Theatre. The man who has the casting of the part is
+coming to see how I look."</p>
+
+<p>"You have gone on the stage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I couldn't live on your lectures," Prince Prettypet said, still
+in the same resentful tone. "I couldn't fritter away the little
+capital I had when mamma died, and then wait for starvation. I had no
+useful accomplishments. I could only recite&mdash;<i>Athalie</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely your aunt&mdash;"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[249]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Is a fiction. Had she been a fact it would have been all the same. I
+had had enough of mamma. No more leading-strings!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy! And you wept over her so in your letters?"</p>
+
+<p>"Crocodile's tears. Heavens, are women to have no lives of their own?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, why did you not write to me of your difficulties?" he groaned. "I
+would have come over and fetched you&mdash;we would have borne poverty
+together."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," the Prince said mockingly. "''E was werry good to me, 'e was.'
+Do you think I could submit to government by a prig?"</p>
+
+<p>He started as if stung. The little tinselled figure, looking taller in
+its swashbuckling habits, stared at him defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me," he said brokenly, "have you made a living?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. If truth must be told, Lucy Gray&mdash;docked at the tail, sir&mdash;hasn't
+made enough to keep Lucy Grayling in theatrical costumes. I got plenty
+of kudos in the Provinces, but two of my managers were bogus."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" he said vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>"No treasury, don't you know? Ghost didn't walk. No oof, rhino,
+shiners, coin, cash, salary!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do I understand you have travelled about the country by yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"By myself! What, in a company? You've picked up Irish in America. Ha!
+ha! ha!"</p>
+
+<p>"You know what I mean, Lucy." It seemed strange to call this new
+person Lucy, but "Miss Grayling" would have sounded just as strange.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there was sure to be a married lady&mdash;with her husband&mdash;in the
+troupe, poor thing!" The Prince had a roguish twinkle in the eye. "And
+surely I am old enough to take care of myself. Still, I felt you
+wouldn't like it.<span class="pagenum">[250]</span> That's why I was anxious to get a London
+appearance&mdash;if only in East-end pantomime. The money's safe, and your
+notices are more valuable. I only want a show to take the town. I do
+hope George won't disappoint me. I thought you were he."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is George?" he said slowly, as if in pain.</p>
+
+<p>The shrill clamour of the bell answered him.</p>
+
+<p>"There he is!" said the Prince joyfully. "George is only Georgie
+Spanner, stage-manager of the Oriental. I have been besieging him for
+two days. Bella Bright, who had to play Prince Prettypet, has gone and
+eloped with the property-man, and as soon as I heard of it, I got a
+letter of introduction to Georgie Spanner, and he said I was too
+little, and I said that was nonsense&mdash;that I had played in burlesque
+at Eastbourne&mdash;Come in!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i068.jpg" width="304" height="547" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE STAGE-MANAGER.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you at home, miss?" said the maid, putting her head inside the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, Fanny. That's Mr. Spanner I told you of&mdash;" The girl's head
+looked puzzled as it removed itself. "And so he said if I would put my
+things on, he would try and run down for an hour this evening, and see
+if I looked the part."</p>
+
+<p>"And couldn't all that be done at the theatre?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it could. But it's ten times more convenient for me here.
+And it's very considerate of Georgie to come all this way&mdash;he's a very
+busy man, I can tell you."</p>
+
+<p>The street-door slammed loudly.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden paroxysm shook Frank's frame. "Lucy, send this man away&mdash;for
+God's sake." In his excitement he came nearer, he laid his hand
+pleadingly upon the glittering shoulder. The Prince trembled a little
+under his touch, and stood as in silent hesitancy. The stairs creaked
+under heavy footsteps.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[251]</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[252]</span></p><p>"Go to your room," he said more imperatively. Even in the wreck of his
+ideal, it was an added bitterness to think that limbs whose
+shapeliness had never even occurred to him, should be made a public
+spectacle. "Put on decent clothes."</p>
+
+<p>It was the wrong chord to touch. The Prince burst into a boisterous
+laugh. "Silly old MacDougall!"</p>
+
+<p>The footsteps were painfully near.</p>
+
+<p>"You are mad," Frank whispered hoarsely. "You are killing me&mdash;you whom
+I throned as an angel of light; you who were the first woman in the
+world&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And now I'm going to be the Principal Boy," she laughed quietly back.
+"Is that you, dear old chap? Come in, George."</p>
+
+<p>The door opened&mdash;Frank, disgusted, heart-broken, moved back towards
+the window-curtains. A corpulent, beef-faced, double-chinned man, with
+a fat cigar and a fur overcoat, came in.</p>
+
+<p>"How do, Lucy? Cold, eh? What, in your togs? That's right."</p>
+
+<p>"There, you bad man! Don't I look ripping?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stunning, Lucy," he said, approaching her.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, down on your knees, George, and apologise for saying I
+was too little."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I see more of you now, he! he! he! Yes, you'll do. What swell
+diggings!"</p>
+
+<p>"Come to the fire. Take that easy-chair. There, that's right, old man.
+Now, what is it to be? There's tea laid&mdash;you've let it get cold,
+unpunctual ruffian. Perhaps you'd like a brandy and soda better?"</p>
+
+<p>"M' yes."</p>
+
+<p>She rang the bell. "So glad&mdash;because there's only tea for two, and I
+know my friend would prefer tea," with a<span class="pagenum">[253]</span> sneering intonation. "Let me
+introduce you&mdash;Mr. Redhill, Mr. Spanner, you have heard of Mr.
+Spanner, the celebrated author and stage-manager?"</p>
+
+<p>The celebrated author and stage-manager half rose in his easy-chair,
+startled, and not over-pleased. The pale-faced rival visitor, half
+hidden in the curtains, inclined his head stiffly, then moved towards
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, don't run away like that, without a cup of tea, in this
+bitter weather. Mr. Spanner won't mind talking business before you,
+will you, George? Such a dear old friend, you know."</p>
+
+<p>It was a merry tea-party. Lucy rattled away bewitchingly, overpowering
+Mr. Spanner like an embodied brandy and soda. The slang of the green
+room and the sporting papers rolled musically off her tongue, grating
+on Frank's ear like the scraping of slate pencils. He had not insight
+enough to divine that she was accentuating her vulgar acquirements to
+torture him. Spanner went at last&mdash;for the Oriental boards claimed
+him&mdash;leaving behind him as nearly definite a promise of the part as a
+stage-manager can ever bring himself to utter. Lucy accompanied him
+downstairs. When she returned, Frank was still sitting as she had left
+him&mdash;one hand playing with the spoon in his cup, the rest of the body
+lethargic, immobile. She bent over him tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Frank!" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>He shivered and looked up at the lovely face, daubed with rouge and
+pencilled at the eyebrows with black&mdash;as for the edification of the
+distant "gods." He lowered his eyes again, and said slowly: "Lucy, I
+have come back to marry you. What date will be most convenient to
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You want to marry me," she echoed in low tones. "All the same!" A
+strange wonderful light came into her eyes. The big lashes were
+threaded with glistening tears.<span class="pagenum">[254]</span> She put her little hand caressingly
+upon his hair, and was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! it is an old promise. It shall be kept."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" She drew her hand away with an inarticulate cry. "Like a duty
+dance, but you do not love me?"</p>
+
+<p>He ignored the point. "I am rich now&mdash;my father has unexpectedly
+become Lord Redhill&mdash;you probably heard it!"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't love me! You can't love me!" It sounded like the cry of a
+soul in despair.</p>
+
+<p>"So there's no need for either of us to earn a living."</p>
+
+<p>"But you don't love me! You only want to save me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, of course Lord Redhill wouldn't like his daughter-in-law to
+be&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The Principal Boy&mdash;ha! ha! ha! But what&mdash;ho! ho! ho! I must laugh,
+Frank, old man, it <i>is</i> so funny&mdash;what about the Principal Boy? Do you
+think he'd cotton to the idea of marrying a peer in embryo! Not if
+Lucy Gray knows it; no, by Jove! Why, when your coronet came along, I
+should have to leave the stage, or else people 'ud be saying I
+couldn't act worth a cent. They'd class me with Lady London and Lady
+Hansard&mdash;oh, Lord! Fancy me on the Drury Lane bills&mdash;Prince Prettypet,
+Lady Redhill. And then, great Scot, think whom they'd class you with.
+Ha! ha! ha! No, my boy, I'm not going to marry a microcephalous idiot.
+Ho! ho! ho! I wish somebody would put all this in a farce."</p>
+
+<p>"Do I understand that you wish to break off the engagement?" Frank
+said slowly, a note of surprise in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"You've hit it&mdash;now that I hear about this peerage business&mdash;why
+didn't you tell me before? I'm out of all the gossip of court circles,
+and it wasn't in the <i>Era</i>. No, I might have redeemed my promise to a
+commoner, but a<span class="pagenum">[255]</span> lord, ugh! I never had your sense of duty, Frank, and
+must really cry 'quits.' Now you see the value of secret
+engagements&mdash;ours is off, and nobody will be the wiser&mdash;or the worse.
+Now get thee to his lordship&mdash;concealment, like a worm i' the bud, no
+longer preying upon thy damask cheek. I was alway sorry you had to
+keep it from the old buffer. But it was for the best, wasn't it?&mdash;ha!
+ha!&mdash;it was for the best! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"</p>
+
+<p>Frank fled down the staircase followed by long peals of musical
+laughter. They followed him into the bleak night, which had no frost
+for him; but they became less musical as they rang on, and as the
+terrified maid and the landlady strove in vain to allay the hysterical
+tempest.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>IV.</h3>
+
+<p>The Oriental, on Boxing Night, was like a baker's oven for
+temperature, and an unopened sardine-barrel for populousness. The
+East-end had poured its rollicking multitudes into the vast theatre,
+which seethed over with noisy vitality. There was much traffic in
+ginger beer, oranges, Banbury cakes, and "bitter." The great audience
+roared itself hoarse over old choruses with new words. Lucy Gray, as
+Prince Prettypet, made an instant success. The mashers of the Oriental
+ogled her in silent flattery. Her clear elocution, her charming
+singing voice, her sprightly dancing, her <i>chic</i>, her frank vulgarity,
+when she "let herself go," took every heart captive. Every heart, that
+is, save one, which was filled with sickness and anguish, and covered
+with a veil of fine linen. The heir of the house of Redhill cowered at
+the back of the O.P. stage-box&mdash;the only place in the house disengaged
+when he drove up in a mistaken<span class="pagenum">[256]</span> dress-suit. It was the first time he
+had seen Prince Prettypet since the merry tea-party, and he did not
+know why he was seeing her now. He hoped she did not see him. She
+pirouetted up to the front of his box pretty often during the evening,
+and several times hurled ancient wheezes at the riotous funnymen from
+that coign of vantage. Spoken so near his ear, the vulgar jokes
+tingled through him like lashes from a whip. Once she sang a chorus,
+winking in his direction. But that was the business of the song, and
+impersonal. He saw no sure signs of recognition, and was glad.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i069.jpg" width="314" height="414" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE ORIENTAL ON BOXING NIGHT.</p>
+
+<p>When, during the gradual but gorgeous evolution of the Transformation
+Scene, he received a note from her, he remained glad. It ran, "The
+bearer will take you behind. I have no one to see me home. Always your
+friend&mdash;Lucy." He went "behind," following his guide through a
+confusion of coatless carpenters waving torches of blue and green fire
+from the wings, and gauzy, highly coloured Whitechapel girls
+ensconcing themselves in uncomfortable attitudes on wooden pedestals,
+which were mounting and descending.</p>
+
+<p>Georgie Spanner was bustling about, half crazed, amid a hubbub
+perfectly inaudible from the front; but he found time to scowl at
+Frank, as that gentleman stumbled over the pantaloon and fell against
+a little iron lever, whose turning might have plunged the stage in
+darkness. Frank found Lucy in a tiny cellar with whitewashed walls and
+a rough counter, on which stood a tin basin and a litter of "make up"
+materials. She had "changed" before he came. It was the first time for
+years he had seen her in her true womanly envelope. Assuredly she had
+grown far lovelier, and her face was flushed with triumph; otherwise
+it was the old Lucy. The Prince was washed off with the paint.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[257]</span></p>
+
+<p>Frank's eyes filled with tears. How hard he had been on her! Nay, had
+he not misjudged her? She looked so frail, so little, so childish,
+what guile could she know? It was all mere surface-froth on her lips!
+How narrow to set up his life, his ideals, as models, patterns! The
+poor little thing had her own tastes, her own individuality! How hard
+she worked to earn her own living! He bent down and kissed her
+forehead, remorsefully, as one might kiss an overscolded<span class="pagenum">[258]</span> child. She
+drew his head down lower and kissed him&mdash;passionately&mdash;on the lips.
+"Let us wait a little," she said, as he spoke of sending for a hansom.
+"Sloman, the lessee, gives a little supper on the stage after the
+show&mdash;he'll be annoyed if I don't stay. He'll be delighted to have
+you."</p>
+
+<p>The pantomime had gone better than anyone had expected. It had been
+insufficiently rehearsed, and though everybody had said "it'll be all
+right at night"&mdash;in the immemorial phrase of the profession&mdash;they had
+said it more automatically than confidently. Consequently everyone was
+in high feather, and agreeably surprised at the accuracy of the
+prophesying. Even Georgie Spanner ceased to scowl under the genial
+influences of success and Sloman's very decent champagne. The air was
+full of laughter and gaiety, and everybody (except the clown) cracked
+jokes. The leading ladies made themselves pleasant, and did not swear.
+Everybody seemed to have acquired a new respect for Lucy, seeing her
+with such a real Belgravian swell. Probably she would soon have a
+theatre of her own.</p>
+
+<p>It was the Prig's first excursion into Bohemia, and he thought the
+natives very civil-spoken, na&iuml;ve, and cordial. Frank had no doubt now
+that Lucy was right, that he was a Prig to want to redeem mankind. And
+the conviction that he lacked worldly wisdom was sealed for aye.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>V.</h3>
+
+<p>So he married her.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[259]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="An_Odd_Life"><i>An Odd Life.</i></h2>
+
+<p>It was the most curious case of croup I had ever attended. Not that
+there was anything unusual about the symptoms&mdash;they were so correct as
+to be devoid of the slightest interest. Certainly they were not worth
+while being called up for in the middle of the night. The patient it
+was that attracted my attention. He was a handsome baby of one year
+and nine months&mdash;by name Willy Streetside&mdash;with such an expression of
+candour and intelligence that I was moved to see him suffer. I sat
+down by his bedside, took his poor little feverish hand, and felt the
+weak quick pulse, and knew it had not much longer to beat. I put the
+glass of barley and water to his lips, and he drank eagerly. He seemed
+to be an orphan, in charge of a strange, silent serving-man,
+apparently the only other occupant of the luxurious and artistically
+furnished flat. I judged Downton to be a man of some culture, from the
+latest magazines strewn about the bedroom; but I could not help
+thinking that a female, more familiar with infantile ailments, might
+have been more useful. Apathetic and torpid though I was, from
+eighteen hours' continuous activity in a hundred sickrooms, my eyes
+filled with tears, and I sat for an instant, holding the little hand,
+listening to the poor child's painful breathing, and speculating on
+the mystery of that existence so early recalled. All his organs were
+sound. But for this accidental croup, I told myself, he might have
+lived till<span class="pagenum">[260]</span> eighty. "Poor Willy Streetside!" I murmured, for his
+curious name clung to my memory.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the baby turned his blue eyes full on me, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose it's all up, doctor?"</p>
+
+<p>I started violently, and let go his hand. The words were perhaps not
+altogether beyond the capacity of an infant; but the air of manly
+resignation with which they were uttered was astonishing. For more
+reasons than one, I hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"You need not be afraid to tell me the truth," said the baby, with a
+wistful smile; "I'm not afraid to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;well, you're pretty bad," I stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! thank you," the child replied gratefully. "How many hours do you
+give me?"</p>
+
+<p>The baby's gravity took my breath away. He spoke with an old-world
+courtesy and the ingenuous stateliness of an infant prince.</p>
+
+<p>"It may not be quite hopeless," I murmured.</p>
+
+<p>Willy shook his head, the pretty, wan features distorted by a quaint
+grimace.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I'm too young to rally," he said quietly, and closed his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he re-opened them, and added:</p>
+
+<p>"But I should have liked to live to see the Irish question settled."</p>
+
+<p>"You would?" I ejaculated, overwhelmed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, adding with a whimsical expression in the wee blue
+eyes: "You mustn't think I crave for earthly immortality. I use
+'settled' in a merely rough sense. My mother was an Irish poetess,
+over whose songs impetuous Celts still break their hearts and their
+heads."</p>
+
+<p>I gazed speechless at this wonder-child, pushing the<span class="pagenum">[261]</span> golden locks
+back from his feverish baby-brow, as if to assure myself by touching
+him that he was not a phantom.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well!" he finished, "it doesn't matter. I have had my day, and
+mustn't grumble. I scarcely thought, when I witnessed the dissolution
+of the third Gladstone Government, that I should have lived to see him
+Premier a fourth time. Three doctors told me I was breaking up fast."</p>
+
+<p>I began to be frightened of this extraordinary infant, divining some
+wizardry behind the candid little face&mdash;some latter-day mystery of
+re-incarnation, esoteric Buddhism, what-not. The child perceived my
+perturbation.</p>
+
+<p>"You are thinking I have packed a good deal into my short life," he
+said, with an amused smile. "And yet some men will make a Gladstone
+bag hold as much as a portmanteau. Gladstone has done so; and why not
+I, in my humble degree?"</p>
+
+<p>"True," I answered; "but you cannot begin to pack before you are
+born."</p>
+
+<p>"You are entirely mistaken," replied the baby, "if you think I have
+done anything so precocious as that."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you must have lived an odd life," I said, puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"You have hit it!" exclaimed the child, with a suspicion of eagerness,
+not unmingled with surprise. "I did not mean to tell anyone; but since
+you are a man of science and I am on the point of death, you may as
+well know you have guessed the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"Have I?" I said, more bewildered than ever.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. In all these years no one has suspected it. It has been
+carefully kept from outsiders. But now it would, perhaps, be childish
+folly to be reticent about it. It is the truth&mdash;the plain, literal
+truth&mdash;I have lived an odd life."</p>
+
+<p>"How did it begin?" I asked, scarce knowing what I said or what I
+meant.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[262]</span></p>
+
+<p>"You shall know all," said Willy. "I must begin before I was
+born&mdash;before I could begin packing, as you put it."</p>
+
+<p>His breath came and went painfully. Overwrought with curiosity as I
+was, I experienced a pang of compunction.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no; never mind," I said; "you have not the strength to speak
+much&mdash;you must not waste what you have."</p>
+
+<p>"It can only cost me a few minutes of life&mdash;I can spare the time," he
+answered, almost peevishly.</p>
+
+<p>Now that he had been strung up to speaking point, he seemed to resent
+my diminished interest.</p>
+
+<p>I put the glass of barley and water to his lips, and forced him to
+moisten his throat.</p>
+
+<p>"I can spare the time," he repeated, while an air of grim satisfaction
+came over the tiny features. "I have stolen plenty&mdash;I have outwitted
+the arch-thief himself. I have survived my own death."</p>
+
+<p>"What!" I gasped. "Have you already died?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," he replied fretfully; "I am only just going to die. That is
+how I have survived my death. How dull you are!"</p>
+
+<p>"You were going to begin at the beginning," I murmured feebly.</p>
+
+<p>"No! What is the use of beginning at the beginning?" this <i>enfant
+terrible</i> enquired, in the same peevish tones. "I was going to begin
+before the beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," I said soothingly, patting his golden curls; "you were
+going to begin before you were born."</p>
+
+<p>"With my mother," he said more gently. "She did not lead a very happy
+life&mdash;it enabled her to hymn the wrongs of her country. Her childhood
+was a succession of sorrows, her girlhood a mass of misfortunes; and
+when she married the man she loved, she found herself deserted by him
+a few<span class="pagenum">[263]</span> months later. It was then that she first conceived the thought
+that has changed my life. It came to her in a moment of tears, as she
+sat over the ashes of her happiness. From that moment the thought
+never left her."</p>
+
+<p>There was a wild look in the baby's eyes. I began to suspect him of
+premature insanity.</p>
+
+<p>"What was this thought?" I murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"I am coming to it. There came into her head suddenly the refrain of a
+song she had learnt at school: 'Life like a river with constant
+motion.' 'The river of life! The stream of life! How true it is!' she
+mused. 'How much more than mere metaphors these phrases are! Verily,
+one's life flows on towards the dark ocean of death, irresistibly,
+unrestingly, willy-nilly&mdash;whether swift or slow, whether long or
+short&mdash;whether it flows through pleasant champaigns or dreary marshes,
+past romantic castled crags, or by bleak quarries. What is the use of
+experience, of knowledge of past bits of the route, when no two bits
+are ever really alike, when the future course is hidden and is always
+a panorama of surprises, when no life-stream knows what awaits it
+round the corner every time it turns, when the scenery of the source
+avails one nothing in one's resistless progress towards the scenery of
+the mouth? What is life but a series of mistakes, whose fruit is
+wisdom, maybe, but wisdom overripe? We do not pluck the fruit till it
+will no longer serve our appetites. Nothing repeats itself on the
+stage of existence&mdash;always new situations and new follies.
+<i>Experientia docet.</i> Experience teaches, indeed; but her lesson is
+that nothing can be learnt.'"</p>
+
+<p>The baby paused, and reached out his wasted hand for the glass. His
+pinafore and his tiny shoes on the chest of drawers caught my eye, and
+moistened it with the thought he would never don them again.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[264]</span></p>
+
+<p>"As my mother brooded upon this bitter truth," he resumed, when he had
+refreshed himself, "and saw how sad an illustration of it was her own
+life&mdash;with its sufferings and its mistakes&mdash;she could not help wishing
+existence had been ordered otherwise. If we had had at least two
+lives, we might profit in the second by the first. But, she told
+herself, with a sigh, this was vain day-dreaming. Then suddenly <i>the</i>
+thought flashed upon her. Granting that more than one life was
+impossible upon this planet, why should it not be differently
+distributed? Suppose, instead of flowing on like a stream, one's life
+progressed like a London street&mdash;the odd numbers on the one side and
+the even on the other, so that after doing the numbers 1, 3, 5, 7, 9,
+11, &amp;c., &amp;c., one could return and do the numbers 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12,
+&amp;c., &amp;c. Without craving from Providence more than man's allotted
+span, what if, by a slight re-arrangement of the years, it were
+possible to extort an infinitely greater degree of happiness from
+one's lifetime! What if it were possible to live the odd years,
+gleaning experience as well as joys, and then to return to the even
+years, armed with all the wisdom of one's age! What if <i>her</i> child
+could enjoy this inestimable privilege! The thought haunted her, she
+brooded on it day and night; and when I was born, she drew me eagerly
+towards her, as if to see some mark of promise written on my forehead.
+But a year passed before she dared to think her wish had found
+fulfilment. On the eve of my first birthday she measured and weighed
+me with intense anxiety, though pretending to herself she only wished
+to keep a register of my growth. In the morning I was more by a year's
+inches and pounds. I had shot up at a bound into my third year, and
+manifested sudden symptoms of walking and talking. She almost fainted
+with joy when my unexpected teeth bit her finger. She could not get
+my<span class="pagenum">[265]</span> shoes on me, nor my frock. But, although my mother had made no
+preparations for my changed condition, she welcomed the trouble I put
+her to, and carefully laid aside my useless garments, knowing I should
+want them again. The neighbours noticed nothing; they thought me a big
+boy for my age, and extremely precocious. When I was in my fifth year
+I went on the stage as an 'infant phenomenon,' my age being attested
+by my certificate of birth, though you will of course see that I was
+really in my ninth. In the next few years I made enough money to gild
+my mother's few declining years; and when I retired temporarily from
+the boards at the advice of my critics, it was of course with the
+intention of studying and returning to the stage when I was younger.
+And so I advanced to manhood, skipping the alternate years. I rejoice
+to say that my mother, though she died when I was seventy-three, had
+the satisfaction of knowing what felicity her unselfish aspiration had
+brought into my life. She told me of my strange exemption from the
+common burden of continuous existence, as soon as I had skipped into
+years of discretion. Not for me did Time pass with that tragic
+footstep which never returns on itself; for me he was not the
+irrevocable, the relentless. I regretted my lost youth&mdash;but it was not
+with hopeless, passionate tears, with mutinous yearnings after the
+impossible; it was as one who waves a regretful adieu to a charming
+girl he will meet again."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! but you will not meet her again," I said softly.</p>
+
+<p>"No; but the feeling was the same. Of course, when I was thirty I did
+not know I should die before I was two. I had no more privilege of
+prescience than the ordinary mortal. But in everything else how
+enviable was my lot compared to his whom every day is sweeping towards
+Death, for whom no vision of renewed youth gleams behind<span class="pagenum">[266]</span> the black
+hangings! Oh! the glory of growing old without dread, with the
+assurance that age, which is ripening you, is not ripening you for the
+Gleaner, that the years will add wisdom without eternally subtracting
+the capacity for joy, and that every tottering step is bringing you
+nearer, not the Grave, but the joyous resurrection of your youth!"</p>
+
+<p>"And you have experienced that?" I cried, with envious incredulity.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered the baby solemnly. "Of course I prepared for the Great
+Change. Not that Nature did not herself smooth the metamorphosis. The
+loss of teeth, the gradual baldness, the feeble limbs, everything
+pointed to the proximity of my Second Childhood. I knew that my odd
+life had not much longer to run, that at any moment the transformation
+might take place and the even numbers begin. Giving out that I was
+going to explore the African deserts, and accompanied only by my
+faithful body-servant, Downton, I retired to Egypt to await the great
+event, having previously ordered baby-linen and the various requisites
+of infantile toilette. I had at one time meditated providing myself
+with parents, but ultimately concluded that they would prove too
+troublesome to manage, and that it would be better to trust myself
+entirely to the management of Downton, since I had already placed
+myself in his power by leaving him all my money."</p>
+
+<p>"But what necessity was there for that?" I enquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Every necessity," he replied gravely. "Do you not see that I had to
+arrange all my affairs and make my will before being born again,
+because afterwards I should not be of legal age for ten years. At
+first I thought of leaving all my money to myself and passing as my
+own child, but there would have been difficulties. I was unmarried and
+seventy-seven. Downton could easily pretend his septuagenarian master<span class="pagenum">[267]</span>
+had died in the African deserts, but he could not so easily patch up a
+marriage there. I had no option, therefore, but to make Downton my
+heir, and I have never had occasion to regret it from the day of my
+rebirth to this, the day of my death. As soon as I was born we
+returned to England, and I wrote my obituary and drove to the Press
+Association with it. Downton took it into the office while I waited in
+Fleet Street in the hansom. I can scarcely hope to convey to you an
+idea of the intensity and agreeableness of my sensations at this
+unprecedented epoch. The variegated life of Fleet Street gave me the
+keenest joy: every sight and every sound&mdash;beautiful or
+sordid&mdash;thrilled my nerves to rapture. I was interested in everything.
+Imagine the delicious freshness of one's second year supervening upon
+the jaded sensibilities of seventy-seven. All my wide and varied
+knowledge of life lay in my soul as before, but transfigured. Over my
+large experience of men and things was shed a stream of sunshine which
+irradiated everything with divine light; every streak of cynicism
+faded. I had the wisdom of an old man and the heart of a little child.
+I believed in man again, and even in woman. I shed tears of pure
+ecstasy; and when I heard a female of the lower classes say: 'Poor
+little thing! What a shame to leave it crying in a cab!' I laughed
+aloud in glee. She exclaimed: 'Ah! now it's laughing, my
+petsy-wootsy!' Her conversation saddened me again, and I was glad I
+had not burdened myself with a mother, and that I took my milk from a
+bottle instead of a doting nurse. And how exquisite was this same
+apparently monotonous menu of milk to an epicurean who had ruined his
+digestion! I felt I was recuperating on a vegetarian diet, and I
+rejoiced to think some years must elapse before I would care for
+champagne or re-acquire a taste for full-flavoured Manillas. Perhaps
+somewhat unreasonably,<span class="pagenum">[268]</span> I was proud of my strength of will, which had
+enabled me in one day to abandon tobacco without a pang, and
+seven-course dinners without repining. I slept a good deal, too, at
+this period, whereas I had previously been greatly exercised by
+insomnia. But these joys of the senses were as nothing to the joys of
+the intellect. An exquisite curiosity played like a sea-breeze about
+my long-stagnant soul. All my early interests revived; worldly
+propositions I had thought settled showed themselves unstable and
+volant; everything was shaken by the moving spirit of youth. Theology,
+poetry, and even metaphysics became alive; all sorts of unpractical
+questions became suddenly burning. I saw in myself the seeds of a
+great thinker: a felicitous congruity of opposite capacities that had
+never before met in a single man&mdash;the sobriety of age tempered by the
+audacity of youth, fire and water, judgment and inspiration. I was
+revolutionist and reactionary in one. I read all the new books, and
+agreed with all the old."</p>
+
+<p>"All you tell me only makes the pathos of your premature death more
+intolerable," I said in moved accents. "You are, like Keats and
+Chatterton,&mdash;only an earlier edition,&mdash;an inheritor of unfulfilled
+renown."</p>
+
+<p>The little blue eyes smiled wistfully at me.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," said the wee rose-lips, with a quiver. "Don't you see, I
+have already dodged Death? Evidently, if I had taken my second year in
+its natural order, I should have been cut short by croup at the
+outset. Apparently I had enough vital energy in me to have lasted till
+seventy-seven, if I could only get over the croup. I think one ought
+to be satisfied with having survived himself by thirty odd years."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if you put it like that, the pathos lightens," I admitted. "Of
+course I saw from the first that you were<span class="pagenum">[269]</span> considerably in advance of
+your age. Did you assure your life?" I asked, with a sudden thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I did; but by an oversight I let the policy be invalidated by my
+imaginary expedition to the African deserts. Downton has, however,
+taken out a fresh policy for my new life."</p>
+
+<p>"What a baffling complex of probabilities would be added to Life
+Assurances if your way of living were to become general!" I observed.
+"Downton will probably more than recoup himself for his first loss.
+Have you always been a bachelor, by the way?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the baby, with a sigh. "I missed marriage; it probably
+fell in an even year."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor child!" I cried, my eyes growing humid again. To think, too, of
+that beautiful young girl, that fond wife, waiting for him who would
+never come; that innocent maiden cheated of love and happiness because
+her appointed husband had not lived in the other alternate series of
+years,&mdash;to think of this tangled tragedy moved me to fresh tears, not
+a few of which were for the husband who never was.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, do not pity me," said the baby, and his tones were hushed and
+low, and in his heavenly blue eyes I seemed to read the high sorrowful
+wisdom of the ages; "for, since I have lain here on this bed of
+sickness with no spectacular whirl to claim my thoughts, with four
+walls for my horizon, and the agony of death in my throat, the darker
+side of my dual existence has been borne in upon me. I see the shadow
+cast by the sunshine of my privilege of double birth; I see the curse
+which is the obverse of the blessing my mother's prayers brought me; I
+see myself dissipating a youth which I knew would recur, throwing away
+a manhood which I knew would come again, and sinking into a sensual
+senility which I knew would pass into an innocent infancy.<span class="pagenum">[270]</span> I see
+myself rejecting the best gifts and the highest duties of To-Day for
+the illusory felicities and the far-away virtues of the
+Day-After-To-Morrow. I see myself passing by Love with the reflection
+that I should be passing again; putting off Purity with the thought
+that I should be round that way presently; and waving to Duty an
+amicable salute of 'Expect me soon.' And in this moment of clear
+vision I see not only my past, I realise what my future would be if I
+lived. I see the influx of fresh feeling gradually exhausted,
+overcome, ousted, and finally replaced by a satiety more horrible than
+that of the septuagenarian, as I came to realise that life for me held
+no surprises, no lures to curiosity, that the future was no enchanted
+realm of mysterious possibilities, that the white clouds revealed no
+seraph shapes on the horizon, that Hope did not stand like a veiled
+bride with beckoning finger, that fairies were not lurking round every
+corner nor magic palaces waiting to start up at every turn. I see life
+stretching before me like old ground I had been over&mdash;in my mother's
+image like a street one side of which I had walked down. What could
+the other offer of fresh, of delightful? It is so rarely one side
+differs from the other: a church for a public-house, a grocer's
+instead of a bookshop. Conceive the horror of foreknowledge: of having
+no sensations to learn and few new emotions to feel; to have,
+moreover, the enthusiasm of youth sicklied over with the prescience of
+senile cynicism, and the healthy vigour of manhood made flaccid by
+anticipations of the dodderings of age! I foresee the ever-growing
+dismay at the leaps and bounds with which my youth was fleeting. I see
+myself, instead of profiting by my experience, feverishly clutching at
+every pleasure on my path, as a drowning man, borne along by a
+torrent, snatches at every scrap of flotsam and jetsam. I see manhood
+arrive only to pass away, as an<span class="pagenum">[271]</span> express passes through a petty
+station, full speed for the terminus. I see a panic terror close upon
+me with every hurrying year at the knowledge that my hours were thirty
+minutes and my months virtually fortnights, and that I was leading the
+fastest life on record. Add to this the anguish of feeling myself torn
+from the bosom of the wife I loved and hurried away from the embraces
+of the children whose careers it would be my solicitude to watch over.
+Imagine the agony if I had been cruelly spared to my seventy-eighth<span class="pagenum">[272]</span>
+year&mdash;the agony of a condemned criminal who does not know on what day
+he is to be execu&mdash;"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i070.jpg" width="303" height="389" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE ENTHUSIASM OF YOUTH SICKLIED OVER WITH THE PRESCIENCE OF SENILE CYNICISM.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>His voice failed suddenly. He had slightly raised himself on his
+pillow in his excitement, but now his head fell back, revealing the
+fatal white patches on the baby throat. I seized his hand quickly to
+feel his pulse. The little palm lay cold in mine. I started violently
+and sat up rigidly in my chair.</p>
+
+<p>The child was dead. Downton was sobbing at my side.</p>
+
+<p>As I was writing out the certificate, an odd thought came into my
+head. I scribbled what I thought an appropriate epitaph and showed it
+to Downton, but he glared at me furiously. I hastened home to bed.</p>
+
+<p>My epitaph ran:</p>
+
+<p class="h4">          HERE LIES<br />
+WILLIAM ("WILLY") STREETSIDE,<br />
+    WHO LED A DOUBLE LIFE,<br />
+  AND DIED IN BLAMELESS REPUTE,<br />
+      AT THE AVERAGE AGE<br />
+        OF 39 YEARS.<br />
+"<i>And in their death they were not divided.</i>"</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[273]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="Cheating_the_Gallows"><i>Cheating the Gallows.</i></h2>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">A CURIOUS COUPLE.</p>
+
+<p>They say that a union of opposites makes the happiest marriage, and
+perhaps it is on the same principle that men who chum together are
+always so oddly assorted. You shall find a man of letters sharing
+diggings with an auctioneer, and a medical student pigging with a
+stockbroker's clerk. Perhaps each thus escapes the temptation to talk
+"shop" in his hours of leisure, while he supplements his own
+experiences of life by his companion's.</p>
+
+<p>There could not be an odder couple than Tom Peters and Everard G.
+Roxdal&mdash;the contrast began with their names, and ran through the
+entire chapter. They had a bedroom and a sitting-room in common, but
+it would not be easy to find what else. To his landlady, worthy Mrs.
+Seacon, Tom Peters's profession was a little vague, but everybody knew
+that Roxdal was the manager of the City and Suburban Bank, and it
+puzzled her to think why a bank manager should live with such a
+seedy-looking person, who smoked clay pipes and sipped
+whisky-and-water all the evening when he was at home. For Roxdal was
+as spruce and erect as his fellow-lodger was round-shouldered and
+shabby; he never smoked, and he confined himself to a small glass of
+claret at dinner.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[274]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i071.jpg" width="411" height="360" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">TOM PETERS.
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+EVERARD G. ROXDAL.</p>
+
+<p>It is possible to live with a man and see very little of him. Where
+each of the partners lives his own life in his own way, with his own
+circle of friends and external amusements, days may go by without the
+men having five minutes together. Perhaps this explains why these
+partnerships jog along so much more peaceably than marriages, where
+the chain is drawn so much tighter, and galls the partners rather than
+links them. Diverse, however, as were the hours and habits of the
+chums, they often breakfasted together, and they agreed in one
+thing&mdash;they never stayed out at night. For the rest Peters sought his
+diversions in the company of journalists, and frequented debating
+rooms, where he propounded<span class="pagenum">[275]</span> the most iconoclastic views; while Roxdal
+had highly respectable houses open to him in the suburbs, and was, in
+fact, engaged to be married to Clara Newell, the charming daughter of
+a retired corn factor, a widower with no other child.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i072.jpg" width="303" height="159" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">ASKED TWENTY-FIVE PER CENT MORE.</p>
+
+<div class="i073">
+
+<div id="i07301">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="i07302">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="i07303">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="cap073">
+<p class="caption">&quot;FOR HIS SHAVING-WATER.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Clara naturally took up a good deal of Roxdal's time, and he often
+dressed to go to the play with her, while Peters stayed at home in a
+faded dressing-gown and loose slippers. Mrs. Seacon liked to see
+gentlemen about the house in evening dress, and made comparisons not
+favourable to Peters. And this in spite of the fact that he gave her
+infinitely less trouble than the younger man. It was Peters who first
+took the apartments, and it was characteristic of his easy-going
+temperament that he was so openly and na&iuml;vely delighted with the view
+of the Thames obtainable from the bedroom window, that Mrs. Seacon was
+emboldened to ask twenty-five per cent more than she had intended. She
+soon returned to her normal terms, however, when his friend Roxdal
+called the next day to inspect the rooms, and overwhelmed her with a
+demonstration of their numerous shortcomings. He pointed out that
+their being on the ground floor was not an advantage, but a
+disadvantage, since they<span class="pagenum">[276]</span> were nearer the noises of the street&mdash;in
+fact, the house being a corner one, the noises of two streets. Roxdal
+continued to exhibit the same finicking temperament in the petty
+details of the <i>m&eacute;nage</i>. His shirt fronts were never sufficiently
+starched, nor his boots sufficiently polished. Tom Peters, having no
+regard for rigid linen, was always good-tempered and satisfied, and
+never acquired the respect of his landlady. He wore blue check shirts
+and loose ties even on Sundays. It is true he did not go to church,
+but slept on till Roxdal returned from morning service, and even then
+it was difficult to get him out of bed, or to make him hurry up his
+toilette operations. Often the mid-day meal would be smoking on the
+table while Peters would be still reading in bed, and Roxdal, with his
+head thrust through the folding-doors that separated the bedroom from
+the sitting-room, would be adjuring the sluggard to arise and shake
+off his slumbers, and threatening to sit down without him, lest the
+dinner be spoilt. In revenge, Tom was usually up first on week-days,
+sometimes at such unearthly hours that Polly had not yet removed the
+boots from outside the bedroom door, and would<span class="pagenum">[277]</span> bawl down to the
+kitchen for his shaving-water. For Tom, lazy and indolent as he was,
+shaved with the unfailing regularity of a man to whom shaving has
+become an instinct. If he had not kept fairly regular hours, Mrs.
+Seacon would have set him down as an actor, so clean shaven was he.
+Roxdal did not shave. He wore a full beard, and, being a fine figure
+of a man to boot, no uneasy investor could look upon him without being
+reassured as to the stability of the bank he managed so successfully.
+And thus the two men lived in an economical comradeship, all the
+firmer, perhaps, for their mutual incongruities.</p>
+</div> <!-- class="i073" -->
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">A WOMAN'S INSTINCT.</p>
+
+<p>It was on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of October, ten days after
+Roxdal had settled in his new rooms, that Clara Newell paid her first
+visit to him there. She enjoyed a good deal of liberty, and did not
+mind accepting his invitation to tea. The corn factor, himself
+indifferently educated, had an exaggerated sense of the value of
+culture, and so Clara, who had artistic tastes without much actual
+talent, had gone in for painting, and might be seen, in pretty
+toilettes, copying pictures in the Museum. At one time it looked as if
+she might be reduced to working seriously at her art, for Satan, who
+finds mischief still for idle hands to do, had persuaded her father to
+embark the fruits of years of toil in bubble companies. However,
+things turned out not so bad as they might have been, a little was
+saved from the wreck, and the appearance of a suitor, in the person of
+Everard G. Roxdal, ensured her a future of competence, if not of the
+luxury she had been entitled to expect. She<span class="pagenum">[278]</span> had a good deal of
+affection for Everard, who was unmistakably a clever man, as well as a
+good-looking one. The prospect seemed fair and cloudless. Nothing
+presaged the terrible storm that was about to break over these two
+lives. Nothing had ever for a moment come to vex their mutual
+contentment, till this Sunday afternoon. The October sky, blue and
+sunny, with an Indian summer sultriness, seemed an exact image of her
+life, with its aftermath of a happiness that had once seemed blighted.</p>
+
+<p>Everard had always been so attentive, so solicitous, that she was as
+much surprised as chagrined to find that he had apparently forgotten
+the appointment. Hearing her astonished interrogation of Polly in the
+passage, Tom shambled from the sitting-room in his loose slippers and
+his blue check shirt, with his eternal clay pipe in his mouth, and
+informed her that Roxdal had gone out suddenly earlier in the
+afternoon.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i074.jpg" width="409" height="375" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;TOM SHAMBLED FROM THE SITTING-ROOM.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"G-g-one out?" stammered poor Clara, all confused. "But he asked me to
+come to tea."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you're Miss Newell, I suppose," said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am Miss Newell."</p>
+
+<p>"He has told me a great deal about you, but I wasn't able honestly to
+congratulate him on his choice till now."</p>
+
+<p>Clara blushed uneasily under the compliment, and under the ardour of
+his admiring gaze. Instinctively she distrusted the man. The very
+first tones of his deep bass voice gave her a peculiar shudder. And
+then his impoliteness in smoking that vile clay was so gratuitous.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, then you must be Mr. Peters," she said in return. "He has often
+spoken to me of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Tom laughingly, "I suppose he's told you all my vices. That
+accounts for your not being surprised at my Sunday attire."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[279]</span></p>
+
+<p>She smiled a little, showing a row of pearly teeth. "Everard ascribes
+to you all the virtues," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Now that's what I call a friend!" he cried ecstatically. "But won't
+you come in? He must be back in a moment. He surely would not break an
+appointment with <i>you</i>." The admiration latent in the accentuation of
+the last pronoun was almost offensive.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. She had a just grievance against Everard, and
+would punish him by going away indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Do let <i>me</i> give you a cup of tea," Tom pleaded. "You<span class="pagenum">[280]</span> must be
+awfully thirsty this sultry weather. There! I will make a bargain with
+you! If you will come in now, I promise to clear out the moment
+Everard returns, and not spoil your <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i>." But Clara was
+obstinate; she did not at all relish this man's society, and besides,
+she was not going to throw away her grievance against Everard. "I know
+Everard will slang me dreadfully when he comes in if I let you go,"
+Tom urged. "Tell me at least where he can find you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to take the 'bus at Charing Cross, and I'm going straight
+home," Clara announced determinedly. She put up her parasol in a pet,
+and went up the street into the Strand. A cold shadow seemed to have
+fallen over all things. But just as she was getting into the 'bus, a
+hansom dashed down Trafalgar Square, and a well-known voice hailed
+her. The hansom stopped, and Everard got out and held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm so glad you're a bit late," he said. "I was called out
+unexpectedly, and have been trying to rush back in time. You wouldn't
+have found me if you had been punctual. But I thought," he added,
+laughing, "I could rely on you as a woman."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>was</i> punctual," Clara said angrily. "I was not getting out of this
+'bus, as you seem to imagine, but into it, and was going home."</p>
+
+<p>"My darling!" he cried remorsefully. "A thousand apologies." The
+regret on his handsome face soothed her. He took the rose he was
+wearing in the buttonhole of his fashionably cut coat and gave it to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Why were you so cruel?" he murmured, as she nestled against him in
+the hansom. "Think of my despair if I had come home to hear you had
+come and gone. Why didn't you wait a moment?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[281]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i075.jpg" width="301" height="411" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;SHE NESTLED AGAINST HIM.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A shudder traversed her frame. "Not with that man, Peters!" she
+murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Not with that man, Peters!" he echoed sharply. "What is the matter
+with Peters?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," she said. "I don't like him."</p>
+
+<p>"Clara," he said, half sternly, half cajolingly, "I thought you were
+above these feminine weaknesses; you are punctual, strive also to be
+reasonable. Tom is my best friend. From boyhood we have been always
+together.<span class="pagenum">[282]</span> There is nothing Tom would not do for me, or I for Tom. You
+must like him, Clara; you must, if only for my sake."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try," Clara promised, and then he kissed her in gratitude and
+broad daylight.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll be very nice to him at tea, won't you?" he said anxiously. "I
+shouldn't like you two to be bad friends."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to be bad friends," Clara protested; "only the moment I
+saw him a strange repulsion and mistrust came over me."</p>
+
+<p>"You are quite wrong about him&mdash;quite wrong," he assured her
+earnestly. "When you know him better, you'll find him the best of
+fellows. Oh, I know," he said suddenly, "I suppose he was very untidy,
+and you women go so much by appearances!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all," Clara retorted. "'Tis you men who go by appearances."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you do. That's why you care for me," he said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>She assured him it wasn't, and she didn't care for him so much as he
+plumed himself, but he smiled on. His smile died away, however, when
+he entered his rooms and found Tom nowhere.</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay you've made him run about hunting for me," he grumbled.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps he knew I'd come back, and went away to leave us together,"
+she answered. "He said he would when you came."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet you say you don't like him!"</p>
+
+<p>She smiled reassuringly. Inwardly, however, she felt pleased at the
+man's absence.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[283]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">POLLY RECEIVES A PROPOSAL.</p>
+
+<p>If Clara Newell could have seen Tom Peters carrying on with Polly in
+the passage, she might have felt justified in her prejudice against
+him. It must be confessed, though, that Everard also carried on with
+Polly. Alas! it is to be feared that men are much of a muchness where
+women are concerned; shabby men and smart men, bank managers and
+journalists, bachelors and semi-detached bachelors. Perhaps it was a
+mistake after all to say the chums had nothing patently in common.
+Everard, I am afraid, kissed Polly rather more often than Clara, and
+although it was because he respected her less, the reason would
+perhaps not have been sufficiently consoling to his affianced wife.
+For Polly was pretty, especially on alternate Sunday afternoons, and
+she liked to receive the homage of real gentlemen, setting her white
+cap at all indifferently. Thus, just before Clara knocked on that
+memorable Sunday afternoon, Polly, being confined to the house by the
+unwritten code regulating the lives of servants, was amusing herself
+by flirting with Peters.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="split" src="images/i076.jpg" width="297" height="485" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption split">&quot;CARRYING ON WITH POLLY.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>are</i> fond of me a little bit," the graceless Tom whispered,
+"aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know I am, sir," Polly replied.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't care for anyone else in the house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, sir. I wonder how it is, sir?" Polly replied ingenuously.</p>
+
+<p>And that very evening, when Clara was gone and Tom still out, Polly
+turned without the faintest atom of scrupulosity, or even jealousy, to
+the more fascinating Roxdal.<span class="pagenum">[284]</span> If it would seem at first sight that
+Everard had less excuse for such frivolity than his friend, perhaps
+the seriousness he showed in this interview may throw a different
+light upon the complex character of the man.</p>
+
+<p>"You're quite sure you don't care for anyone but me?" he asked
+earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not, sir!" Polly replied indignantly. "How could I?"</p>
+
+<p>"But you care for that soldier I saw you out with last Sunday?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, sir, he's only my young man," she said apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you give him up?" he hissed suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>Polly's pretty face took a look of terror. "I couldn't, sir! He'd kill
+me! He's such a jealous brute, you've no idea."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but suppose I took you away from here?" he whispered eagerly.
+"Somewhere where he couldn't find you&mdash;South America, Africa,
+somewhere thousands of miles across the seas."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[285]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, sir, you frighten me!" whispered Polly, cowering before his
+ardent eyes, which shone in the dimly lit passage.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you come with me?" he hissed. She did not answer; she shook
+herself free and ran into the kitchen, trembling with a vague fear.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">THE CRASH.</p>
+
+<p>One morning, earlier than his earliest hour of demanding his
+shaving-water, Tom rang the bell violently and asked the alarmed Polly
+what had become of Mr. Roxdal.</p>
+
+<p>"How should I know, sir?" she gasped. "Ain't he been in, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Apparently not," Tom answered anxiously. "He never remains out. We
+have been here three weeks now, and I can't recall a single night he
+hasn't been home before twelve. I can't make it out." All enquiries
+proved futile. Mrs. Seacon reminded him of the thick fog that had come
+on suddenly the night before.</p>
+
+<p>"What fog?" asked Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord! didn't you notice it, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I came in early, smoked, read, and went to bed about eleven. I
+never thought of looking out of the window."</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="split" src="images/i077.jpg" width="284" height="413" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption split">&quot;SCOTLAND YARD OPENED THE LETTER.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"It began about ten," said Mrs. Seacon, "and got thicker and thicker.
+I couldn't see the lights of the river from my bedroom. The poor
+gentleman has been and gone and walked into the water." She began to
+whimper.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense, nonsense," said Tom, though his expression belied his
+words. "At the worst I should think he couldn't find his way home, and
+couldn't get a cab, so put up for the<span class="pagenum">[286]</span> night at some hotel. I daresay
+it will be all right." He began to whistle as if in restored
+cheerfulness. At eight o'clock there came a letter for Roxdal, marked
+"immediate," but as he did not turn up for breakfast, Tom went round
+personally to the City and Suburban Bank. He waited half-an-hour
+there, but the manager did not make his appearance. Then he left the
+letter with the cashier and went away with anxious countenance.</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon it was all over London that the manager of the City and
+Suburban had disappeared, and that many thousand pounds of gold and
+notes had disappeared with him.</p>
+
+<p>Scotland Yard opened the letter marked "immediate," and noted that
+there had been a delay in its delivery, for the address had been
+obscure, and an official alteration had been made. It was written in a
+feminine hand and said: "On second thoughts I cannot accompany you. Do
+not try to see me again. Forget me. I shall never forget you."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[287]</span></p>
+
+<p>There was no signature.</p>
+
+<p>Clara Newell, distracted, disclaimed all knowledge of this letter.
+Polly deposed that the fugitive had proposed flight to her, and the
+routes to Africa and South America were especially watched. Some
+months passed without result. Tom Peters went about overwhelmed with
+grief and astonishment. The police took possession of all the missing
+man's effects. Gradually the hue and cry dwindled, died.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">FAITH AND UNFAITH.</p>
+
+<p>"At last we meet!" cried Tom Peters, while his face lit up in joy.
+"How <i>are</i> you, dear Miss Newell?" Clara greeted him coldly. Her face
+had an abiding pallor now. Her lover's flight and shame had prostrated
+her for weeks. Her soul was the arena of contending instincts. Alone
+of all the world she still believed in Everard's innocence, felt that
+there was something more than met the eye, divined some devilish
+mystery behind it all. And yet that damning letter from the anonymous
+lady shook her sadly. Then, too, there was the deposition of Polly.
+When she heard Peters's voice accosting her all her old repugnance
+resurged. It flashed upon her that this man&mdash;Roxdal's boon
+companion&mdash;must know far more than he had told to the police. She
+remembered how Everard had spoken of him, with what affection and
+confidence! Was it likely he was utterly ignorant of Everard's
+movements? Mastering her repugnance, she held out her hand. It might
+be well to keep in touch with him; he was possibly the clue to the
+mystery. She noticed he was dressed a shade more trimly,<span class="pagenum">[288]</span> and was
+smoking a meerschaum. He walked along at her side, making no offer to
+put his pipe out.</p>
+
+<p>"You have not heard from Everard?" he asked. She flushed. "Do you
+think I'm an accessory after the fact?" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," he said soothingly. "Pardon me, I was thinking he might have
+written&mdash;giving no exact address, of course. Men do sometimes dare to
+write thus to women. But, of course, he knows you too well&mdash;you would
+have put the police on his track."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," she exclaimed indignantly. "Even if he is innocent he
+must face the charge."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you still entertain the possibility of his innocence?"</p>
+
+<p>"I do," she said boldly, and looked him full in the face. His eyelids
+drooped with a quiver. "Don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have hoped against hope," he replied, in a voice faltering with
+emotion. "Poor old Everard! But I am afraid there is no room for
+doubt. Oh, this wicked curse of money&mdash;tempting the noblest and the
+best of us."</p>
+
+<p>The weeks rolled on. Gradually she found herself seeing more and more
+of Tom Peters, and gradually, strange to say, he grew less repulsive.
+From the talks they had together, she began to see that there was
+really no reason to put faith in Everard; his criminality, his
+faithlessness, were too flagrant. Gradually she grew ashamed of her
+early mistrust of Peters; remorse bred esteem, and esteem<span class="pagenum">[289]</span> ultimately
+ripened into feelings so warm, that when Tom gave freer vent to the
+love that had been visible to Clara from the first, she did not
+repulse him.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="split" src="images/i078.jpg" width="244" height="184" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption split">&quot;SHE DID NOT REPULSE HIM.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It is only in books that love lives for ever. Clara, so her father
+thought, showed herself a sensible girl in plucking out an unworthy
+affection and casting it from her heart. He invited the new lover to
+his house, and took to him at once. Roxdal's somewhat supercilious
+manner had always jarred upon the unsophisticated corn factor. With
+Tom the old man got on much better. While evidently quite as well
+informed and cultured as his whilom friend, Tom knew how to impart his
+superior knowledge with the accent on the knowledge rather than on the
+superiority, while he had the air of gaining much information in
+return. Those who are most conscious of defects of early education are
+most resentful of other people sharing their consciousness. Moreover,
+Tom's <i>bonhomie</i> was far more to the old fellow's liking than the
+studied politeness of his predecessor, so that on the whole Tom made
+more of a conquest of the father than of the daughter. Nevertheless,
+Clara was by no means unresponsive<span class="pagenum">[290]</span> to Tom's affection, and when,
+after one of his visits to the house, the old man kissed her fondly
+and spoke of the happy turn things had taken, and how, for the second
+time in their lives, things had mended when they seemed at their
+blackest, her heart swelled with a gush of gratitude and joy and
+tenderness, and she fell sobbing into her father's arms.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i079.jpg" width="468" height="231" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;WITH TOM THE OLD MAN GOT ON MUCH BETTER.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Tom calculated that he made a clear five hundred a year by occasional
+journalism, besides possessing some profitable investments which he
+had inherited from his mother, so that there was no reason for
+delaying the marriage. It was fixed for May-day, and the honeymoon was
+to be spent in Italy.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING.</p>
+
+<p>But Clara was not destined to happiness. From the moment she had
+promised herself to her first love's friend, old memories began to
+rise up and reproach her. Strange thoughts stirred in the depths of
+her soul, and in the silent watches of the night she seemed to hear
+Everard's accents, charged with grief and upbraiding. Her uneasiness
+increased as her wedding-day drew near. One night, after a pleasant
+afternoon spent in being rowed by Tom among the upper reaches of the
+Thames, she retired to rest full of vague forebodings. And she dreamt
+a terrible dream. The dripping form of Everard stood by her bedside,
+staring at her with ghastly eyes. Had he been drowned on the passage
+to his land of exile? Frozen with horror, she put the question.</p>
+
+<p>"I have never left England!" the vision answered.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[291]</span></p>
+
+<p>Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Never left England?" she repeated, in tones which did not seem to be
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>The wraith's stony eyes stared on, but there was silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Where have you been then?" she asked in her dream.</p>
+
+<p>"Very near you," came the answer.</p>
+
+<p>"There has been foul play then!" she shrieked.</p>
+
+<p>The phantom shook its head in doleful assent.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew it!" she shrieked. "Tom Peters&mdash;Tom Peters has done away with
+you. Is it not he? Speak!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is he&mdash;Tom Peters&mdash;whom I loved more than all the world."</p>
+
+<p>Even in the terrible oppression of the dream she could not resist
+saying, woman-like:</p>
+
+<p>"Did I not warn you against him?"</p>
+
+<p>The phantom stared on silently and made no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"But what was his motive?" she asked at length.</p>
+
+<p>"Love of gold&mdash;and you. And you are giving yourself to him," it said
+sternly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, Everard! I will not! I will not! I swear it! Forgive me!"</p>
+
+<p>The spirit shook its head sceptically.</p>
+
+<p>"You love him. Women are false&mdash;as false as men."</p>
+
+<p>She strove to protest again, but her tongue refused its office.</p>
+
+<p>"If you marry him, I shall always be with you! Beware!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i080.jpg" width="443" height="296" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;IDENTIFIED THE BODY.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The dripping figure vanished as suddenly as it came, and Clara awoke
+in a cold perspiration. Oh, it was horrible! The man she had learnt to
+love, the murderer of the man she had learnt to forget! How her
+original prejudice had been justified! Distracted, shaken to her
+depths, she would not take counsel even of her father, but informed
+the police<span class="pagenum">[292]</span> of her suspicions. A raid was made on Tom's rooms, and lo!
+the stolen notes were discovered in a huge bundle. It was found that
+he had several banking accounts, with a large, recently deposited
+amount in each bank. Tom was arrested. Attention was now concentrated
+on the corpses washed up by the river. It was not long before the body
+of Roxdal came to shore, the face distorted almost beyond recognition
+by long immersion, but the clothes patently his, and a pocket-book in
+the breast-pocket removing the last doubt. Mrs. Seacon and Polly and
+Clara Newell all identified the body. Both juries returned a verdict
+of murder against Tom Peters, the recital of Clara's dream producing a
+unique impression in the court and throughout the country, especially
+in theological and theosophical circles. The theory of the prosecution
+was that Roxdal had brought home<span class="pagenum">[293]</span> <span class="pagenum">[294]</span>the money, whether to fly alone or
+to divide it, or whether, even for some innocent purpose, as Clara
+believed, was immaterial; that Peters determined to have it all, that
+he had gone out for a walk with the deceased, and, taking advantage of
+the fog, had pushed him into the river, and that he was further
+impelled to the crime by love for Clara Newell, as was evident from
+his subsequent relations with her. The judge put on the black cap. Tom
+Peters was duly hung by the neck till he was dead.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i081.jpg" width="404" height="630" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">THE CORPSE WASHED UP BY THE RIVER.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">BRIEF R&Eacute;SUM&Eacute; OF THE CULPRIT'S CONFESSION.</p>
+
+<p>When you all read this I shall be dead and laughing at you. I have
+been hung for my own murder. I am Everard G. Roxdal. I am also Tom
+Peters. We two were one. When I was a young man my moustache and beard
+wouldn't come. I bought false ones to improve my appearance. One day,
+after I had become manager of the City and Suburban Bank, I took off
+my beard and moustache at home, and then the thought crossed my mind
+that nobody would know me without them. I was another man. Instantly
+it flashed upon me that if I ran away from the Bank, that other man
+could be left in London, while the police were scouring the world for
+a non-existent fugitive. But this was only the crude germ of the idea.
+Slowly I matured my plan. The man who was going to be left in London
+must be known to a circle of acquaintance beforehand. It would be easy
+enough to masquerade in the evenings in my beardless condition, with
+other disguises of dress and voice. But this was not brilliant enough.
+I conceived<span class="pagenum">[295]</span> the idea of living with him. It was Box and Cox reversed.
+We shared rooms at Mrs. Seacon's. It was a great strain, but it was
+only for a few weeks. I had trick clothes in my bedroom like those of
+quick-change artistes; in a moment I could pass from Roxdal to Peters
+and from Peters to Roxdal. Polly had to clean two pairs of boots a
+morning, cook two dinners, &amp;c., &amp;c. She and Mrs. Seacon saw one or the
+other of us every moment; it never dawned upon them they never saw us
+<i>both together</i>. At meals I would not be interrupted, ate off two
+plates, and conversed with my friend in loud tones. A slight
+ventriloquial gift enabled me to hold audible conversations with him
+when he was supposed to be in the bedroom. At other times we dined at
+different hours. On Sundays he was supposed to be asleep when I was in
+church. There is no landlady in the world to whom the idea would have
+occurred that one man was troubling himself to be two (and to pay for
+two, including washing). I worked up the idea of Roxdal's flight,
+asked Polly to go with me, manufactured that feminine letter that
+arrived on the morning of my disappearance. As Tom Peters I mixed with
+a journalistic set. I had another room where I kept the gold and notes
+till I mistakenly thought the thing had blown over. Unfortunately,
+returning from here on the night of my disappearance, with Roxdal's
+clothes in a bundle I intended to drop into the river, it was stolen
+from me in the fog, and the man into whose possession it ultimately
+came appears to have committed suicide, so that his body dressed in my
+clothes was taken for mine. What, perhaps, ruined me was my desire to
+keep Clara's love, and to transfer it to the survivor. Everard told
+her I was the best of fellows. Once married to her, I would not have
+had much fear. Even if she had discovered the trick, a wife cannot
+give evidence against her husband, and often does<span class="pagenum">[296]</span> not want to. I made
+none of the usual slips, but no man can guard against a girl's
+nightmare after a day up the river and a supper at the Star and
+Garter. I might have told the judge he was an ass, but then I should
+have had penal servitude for bank robbery, and that is worse than
+death. The only thing that puzzles me, though, is whether the law has
+committed murder or I suicide. What is certain is that I have cheated
+the gallows.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i082.jpg" width="355" height="370" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[297]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="Santa_Claus"><i>Santa Claus.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="h3">A STORY FOR THE NURSERY.</p>
+
+<p>Although Bob was asleep on the doorstep the children in the passage
+talked so loudly that they woke him up. They did not mean to do it,
+for they were nice, clean, handsome children. Bob was always pretty
+dirty, so nobody knew if he was pretty clean. He was not a dog, though
+you might think so from his name and the way he was treated. Nobody
+cared for Bob except Tommy whom he could fight one-hand. The lucky
+nice clean children had jam to lick, but Bob had only Tommy. Poor
+Tommy!</p>
+
+<p>Bob sat up on his stony doorstep, drawing his rags around him. His
+toes were freezing. When you have no boots it is awkward to stamp your
+feet. That is why they are so cold. Bob's idea of heaven was a place
+with a fire in it. He lived before Free Education and his ideas were
+mixed.</p>
+
+<p>Bob heard the children inside talking about Santa Claus and the
+presents they expected. Bob gathered that he was a kind-hearted old
+gentleman, and he thought to himself: "If I could find out Santa
+Claus's address, I'd go and arx 'im for some presents too." So he
+waited outside, shivering, till a pretty little girl and boy came out,
+when he said to them: "Please, can you tell me where Santa Claus
+lives?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[298]</span></p>
+
+<p>The little girl and boy drew back when he spoke to them, because they
+had strict orders to keep their pinafores clean. But when they heard
+his strange question, they looked at each other with large eyes. Then
+their pretty faces filled with smiling sunshine, and they said: "He
+lives in the sky. He is a spirit."</p>
+
+<p>Bob's face fell. "Oh, then I carn't call upon 'im," he said. "But 'ow
+is it <i>I</i> never gets no presents like I 'ears yer say <i>you</i> does?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you are not a good child," said the little girl gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, look how you've torn your clothes," said the little boy
+reprovingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but 'ow is <i>you</i> goin' to get presents from the sky?"</p>
+
+<p>"We hang up our stockings to-night, just before Christmas, and in the
+night Santa Claus fills them," they explained, and just then the maid
+came out and led them away.</p>
+
+<p>Now Bob understood. He had never had any stockings in his life. He
+felt mad to think how much else he had missed through the want of a
+pair. If he could only get a pair of stockings to hang up, he might be
+a rich boy and dine off bread and treacle. He wandered through the
+courts and alleys looking for stockings in the gutters and dustbins.
+They were not there. Old boots were to be found in abundance though
+not in couples (which was odd); but Bob soon discovered that people
+never throw away their stockings. At last he plucked up courage and
+begged from house to house, but nobody had a pair to spare. What
+becomes of all the old stockings? Not everybody hoards treasure in
+them. Bob met plenty of kind hearts; they offered him bread when he
+asked for a stocking.</p>
+
+<p>At last, weary and footsore, he returned to his doorstep and pondered.
+He wondered if he could cheat Santa Claus<span class="pagenum">[299]</span> by making a pair out of a
+piece of newspaper he had picked up. But perhaps Mr. Claus was
+particular about the material and admitted nothing under cotton. He
+thought of stepping deeply into the mud and caking a pair, but then he
+could only remove them at night by brushing them off in little pieces;
+he feared they would stick too tight to come off whole. He also
+thought of painting his calves with stripes from "wet paint," on the
+off chance that Mr. Claus would drop the presents carelessly down
+along his legs. But he concluded that if Mr. Claus lived in the sky he
+could look down and see all he was doing. So he began to cry instead.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you crying about?" said a quavering voice, and Bob,
+startled, became aware of a wretched old creature dining on the
+doorstep at his side.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i083.jpg" width="451" height="654" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">AN OLD WOMAN DINING ON THE DOORSTEP.</p>
+
+<p>"I ain't got no stockings," he sobbed in answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll give you mine," said his neighbour.</p>
+
+<p>Bob hesitated. The poor old woman looked so brokendown herself, it
+seemed mean to accept her offer.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you be cold?" he asked timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't be warmer," mumbled the old woman. "But then you will."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I won't have them, thank you kindly, mum," said Bob stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'll tell you what to do," said the old woman, who was really a
+fairy, though she had lost both wings&mdash;they had been amputated in a
+surgical operation. "It's easy enough to get stockings if you only
+know how. Run away now and pick out any person you meet and say, 'I
+wish that person's stockings were on my feet.' You can only wish once,
+so be careful, especially, not to wish for a pair of blue stockings,
+as they won't suit you."</p>
+
+<p>She grinned and vanished. Bob jumped up and was<span class="pagenum">[300]</span> <span class="pagenum">[301]</span>about to wish off
+the stockings of the first man he met, when a horrible thought struck
+him. The man had nice clothes and looked rich, but what proof was
+there he had stockings on? Bob really could not afford to risk wasting
+his wish. He walked about and looked at all the people&mdash;the men with
+their long trousers, the women with their trailing skirts; and the
+more he walked, the more grew his doubt and his agony. A terrible
+scepticism of humanity seized him. They looked very prim and demure
+without, these men and women, with their varnished boots and their
+satin gowns, but what if they were all hypocrites, walking about
+without stockings! Night came on. Half distracted by distrust of his
+kind, he wandered on to the docks, and there to his joy he saw people
+coming off a steamer by a narrow plank. As they walked the ladies
+lifted up their skirts so as not to tumble over them, and he caught
+several glimpses of dainty stockings. At last he selected a lady with
+very broad stockings, that looked as if they would hold lots of Mr.
+Claus's presents, and wished. Instantly he felt very funny about the
+feet, and the lady wobbled about so in her big boots that she
+overbalanced herself and fell into the water and was drowned.</p>
+
+<p>Bob ran back to his doorstep, and when it was dark slipped off his
+stockings carefully and hung them up on the knocker. And&mdash;sure
+enough!&mdash;in the morning they were fall of fine cigars and Spanish
+lace. Bob sold the lace for a penny, but he kept the cigars and smoked
+the first with his penn'uth of Christmas plum-duff.</p>
+
+<p><i>Moral</i>:&mdash;England expects every man to pay his duty.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[302]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="A_Rose_of_the_Ghetto"><i>A Rose of the Ghetto.</i></h2>
+
+<p>One day it occurred to Leibel that he ought to get married. He went to
+Sugarman the Shadchan forthwith.</p>
+
+<p>"I have the very thing for you," said the great marriage-broker.</p>
+
+<p>"Is she pretty?" asked Leibel.</p>
+
+<p>"Her father has a boot and shoe warehouse," replied Sugarman
+enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>"Then there ought to be a dowry with her," said Leibel eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly a dowry! A fine man like you!"</p>
+
+<p>"How much do you think it would be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is not a large warehouse; but then you could get your
+boots at trade price, and your wife's, perhaps, for the cost of the
+leather."</p>
+
+<p>"When could I see her?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will arrange for you to call next Sabbath afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't charge me more than a sovereign?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a <i>groschen</i> more! Such a pious maiden! I'm sure you will be
+happy. She has so much way-of-the-country [breeding]. And, of course,
+five per cent on the dowry?"</p>
+
+<p>"H'm! Well, I don't mind!" "Perhaps they won't give a dowry," he
+thought, with a consolatory sense of outwitting the Shadchan.</p>
+
+<p>On the Saturday Leibel went to see the damsel, and on the Sunday he
+went to see Sugarman the Shadchan.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[303]</span></p>
+
+<p>"But your maiden squints!" he cried resentfully.</p>
+
+<p>"An excellent thing!" said Sugarman. "A wife who squints can never
+look her husband straight in the face and overwhelm him. Who would
+quail before a woman with a squint?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could endure the squint," went on Leibel dubiously, "but she also
+stammers."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what is better, in the event of a quarrel? The difficulty she
+has in talking will keep her far more silent than most wives. You had
+best secure her while you have the chance."</p>
+
+<p>"But she halts on the left leg," cried Leibel, exasperated.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Gott in Himmel!</i> Do you mean to say you do not see what an advantage
+it is to have a wife unable to accompany you in all your goings?"</p>
+
+<p>Leibel lost patience.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the girl is a hunchback!" he protested furiously.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Leibel," said the marriage-broker, deprecatingly shrugging
+his shoulders and spreading out his palms. "You can't expect
+perfection!"</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, Leibel persisted in his unreasonable attitude. He
+accused Sugarman of wasting his time, of making a fool of him.</p>
+
+<p>"A fool of you!" echoed the Shadchan indignantly, "when I give you a
+chance of a boot and shoe manufacturer's daughter. You will make a
+fool of yourself if you refuse. I daresay her dowry would be enough to
+set you up as a master-tailor. At present you are compelled to slave
+away as a cutter for thirty shillings a week. It is most unjust. If
+you only had a few machines you would be able to employ your own
+cutters. And they can be got so cheap nowadays."</p>
+
+<p>This gave Leibel pause, and he departed without having<span class="pagenum">[304]</span> definitely
+broken the negotiations. His whole week was befogged by doubt, his
+work became uncertain, his chalk-marks lacked their usual decision,
+and he did not always cut his coat according to his cloth. His
+aberrations became so marked that pretty Rose Green, the sweater's
+eldest daughter, who managed a machine in the same room, divined, with
+all a woman's intuition, that he was in love.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter?" she said in rallying Yiddish, when they were
+taking their lunch of bread and cheese and ginger-beer, amid the
+clatter of machines, whose serfs had not yet knocked off work.</p>
+
+<p>"They are proposing me a match," he answered sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"A match!" ejaculated Rose. "Thou!" She had worked by his side for
+years, and familiarity bred the second person singular. Leibel nodded
+his head, and put a mouthful of Dutch cheese into it.</p>
+
+<p>"With whom?" asked Rose. Somehow he felt ashamed. He gurgled the
+answer into the stone ginger-beer bottle, which he put to his thirsty
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>"With Leah Volcovitch!"</p>
+
+<p>"Leah Volcovitch!" gasped Rose. "Leah, the boot and shoe
+manufacturer's daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>Leibel hung his head&mdash;he scarce knew why. He did not dare meet her
+gaze. His droop said "Yes." There was a long pause.</p>
+
+<p>"And why dost thou not have her?" said Rose. It was more than an
+enquiry. There was contempt in it, and perhaps even pique.</p>
+
+<p>Leibel did not reply. The embarrassing silence reigned again, and
+reigned long. Rose broke it at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it that thou likest me better?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Leibel seemed to see a ball of lightning in the air; it burst, and he
+felt the electric current strike right through<span class="pagenum">[305]</span> his heart. The shock
+threw his head up with a jerk, so that his eyes gazed into a face
+whose beauty and tenderness were revealed to him for the first time.
+The face of his old acquaintance had vanished&mdash;this was a cajoling,
+coquettish, smiling face, suggesting undreamed-of things.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nu</i>, yes," he replied, without perceptible pause.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Nu</i>, good!" she rejoined as quickly.</p>
+
+<p>And in the ecstasy of that moment of mutual understanding Leibel
+forgot to wonder why he had never thought of Rose before. Afterwards
+he remembered that she had always been his social superior.</p>
+
+<p>The situation seemed too dreamlike for explanation to the room just
+yet. Leibel lovingly passed the bottle of ginger-beer and Rose took a
+sip, with a beautiful air of plighting troth, understood only of those
+two. When Leibel quaffed the remnant it intoxicated him. The relics of
+the bread and cheese were the ambrosia to this nectar. They did not
+dare kiss&mdash;the suddenness of it all left them bashful, and the smack
+of lips would have been like a cannon-peal announcing their
+engagement. There was a subtler sweetness in this sense of a secret,
+apart from the fact that neither cared to break the news to the
+master-tailor&mdash;a stern little old man. Leibel's chalk-marks continued
+indecisive that afternoon; which shows how correctly Rose had
+connected them with love.</p>
+
+<p>Before he left that night Rose said to him: "Art thou sure thou
+wouldst not rather have Leah Volcovitch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not for all the boots and shoes in the world," replied Leibel
+vehemently.</p>
+
+<p>"And I," protested Rose, "would rather go without my own than without
+thee."</p>
+
+<p>The landing outside the workshop was so badly lighted that their lips
+came together in the darkness.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[306]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay, thou must not yet," said Rose. "Thou art still courting
+Leah Volcovitch. For aught thou knowest, Sugarman the Shadchan may
+have entangled thee beyond redemption."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so," asserted Leibel. "I have only seen the maiden once."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. But Sugarman has seen her father several times," persisted Rose.
+"For so misshapen a maiden his commission would be large. Thou must go
+to Sugarman to-night, and tell him that thou canst not find it in thy
+heart to go on with the match."</p>
+
+<p>"Kiss me, and I will go," pleaded Leibel.</p>
+
+<p>"Go, and I will kiss thee," said Rose resolutely.</p>
+
+<p>"And when shall we tell thy father?" he asked, pressing her hand, as
+the next best thing to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"As soon as thou art free from Leah."</p>
+
+<p>"But will he consent?"</p>
+
+<p>"He will not be glad," said Rose frankly. "But after mother's
+death&mdash;peace be upon her&mdash;the rule passed from her hands into mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that is well," said Leibel. He was a superficial thinker.</p>
+
+<p>Leibel found Sugarman at supper. The great Shadchan offered him a
+chair, but nothing else. Hospitality was associated in his mind with
+special occasions only, and involved lemonade and "stuffed monkeys."</p>
+
+<p>He was very put out&mdash;almost to the point of indigestion&mdash;to hear of
+Leibel's final determination, and plied him with reproachful
+enquiries.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to say that you give up a boot and shoe manufacturer
+merely because his daughter has round shoulders!" he exclaimed
+incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"It is more than round shoulders&mdash;it is a hump!" cried Leibel.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[307]</span></p>
+
+<p>"And suppose? See how much better off you will be when you get your
+own machines! We do not refuse to let camels carry our burdens because
+they have humps."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but a wife is not a camel," said Leibel, with a sage air.</p>
+
+<p>"And a cutter is not a master-tailor," retorted Sugarman.</p>
+
+<p>"Enough, enough!" cried Leibel. "I tell you I would not have her if
+she were a machine warehouse."</p>
+
+<p>"There sticks something behind," persisted Sugarman, unconvinced.</p>
+
+<p>Leibel shook his head. "Only her hump," he said, with a flash of
+humour.</p>
+
+<p>"Moses Mendelssohn had a hump," expostulated Sugarman reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but he was a heretic," rejoined Leibel, who was not without
+reading. "And then he was a man! A man with two humps could find a
+wife for each. But a woman with a hump cannot expect a husband in
+addition."</p>
+
+<p>"Guard your tongue from evil," quoth the Shadchan angrily. "If
+everybody were to talk like you, Leah Volcovitch would never be
+married at all."</p>
+
+<p>Leibel shrugged his shoulders, and reminded him that hunchbacked girls
+who stammered and squinted and halted on left legs were not usually
+led under the canopy.</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense! Stuff!" cried Sugarman angrily. "That is because they do
+not come to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Leah Volcovitch <i>has</i> come to you," said Leibel, "but she shall not
+come to me." And he rose, anxious to escape.</p>
+
+<p>Instantly Sugarman gave a sigh of resignation. "Be it so! Then I shall
+have to look out for another, that's all."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't want any," replied Leibel quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Sugarman stopped eating. "You don't want any?" he cried. "But you came
+to me for one?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[308]</span></p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;know," stammered Leibel. "But I've&mdash;I've altered my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"One needs Hillel's patience to deal with you!" cried Sugarman. "But I
+shall charge you all the same for my trouble. You cannot cancel an
+order like this in the middle! No, no! You can play fast and loose
+with Leah Volcovitch. But you shall not make a fool of me."</p>
+
+<p>"But if I don't want one?" said Leibel sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>Sugarman gazed at him with a cunning look of suspicion. "Didn't I say
+there was something sticking behind?"</p>
+
+<p>Leibel felt guilty. "But whom have you got in your eye?" he enquired
+desperately.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you may have some one in yours!" na&iuml;vely answered Sugarman.</p>
+
+<p>Leibel gave a hypocritic long-drawn, "U-m-m-m. I wonder if Rose
+Green&mdash;where I work&mdash;" he said, and stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear not," said Sugarman. "She is on my list. Her father gave her
+to me some months ago, but he is hard to please. Even the maiden
+herself is not easy, being pretty."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps she has waited for some one," suggested Leibel.</p>
+
+<p>Sugarman's keen ear caught the note of complacent triumph.</p>
+
+<p>"You have been asking her yourself!" he exclaimed in horror-stricken
+accents.</p>
+
+<p>"And if I have?" said Leibel defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You have cheated me! And so has Eliphaz Green&mdash;I always knew he was
+tricky! You have both defrauded me!"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not mean to," said Leibel mildly.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>did</i> mean to. You had no business to take the matter out of my
+hands. What right had you to propose to Rose Green?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[309]</span></p>
+
+<p>"I did not," cried Leibel excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you asked her father!"</p>
+
+<p>"No; I have not asked her father yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how do you know she will have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I know," stammered Leibel, feeling himself somehow a liar as well
+as a thief. His brain was in a whirl; he could not remember how the
+thing had come about. Certainly he had not proposed; nor could he say
+that she had.</p>
+
+<p>"You know she will have you," repeated Sugarman, reflectively. "And
+does <i>she</i> know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. In fact," he blurted out, "we arranged it together."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! You both know. And does her father know?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! then I must get his consent," said Sugarman decisively.</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I thought of speaking to him myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Yourself!" echoed Sugarman, in horror. "Are you unsound in the head?
+Why, that would be worse than the mistake you have already made!"</p>
+
+<p>"What mistake?" asked Leibel, firing up.</p>
+
+<p>"The mistake of asking the maiden herself. When you quarrel with her
+after your marriage, she will always throw it in your teeth that you
+wished to marry her. Moreover, if you tell a maiden you love her, her
+father will think you ought to marry her as she stands. Still, what is
+done is done." And he sighed regretfully.</p>
+
+<p>"And what more do I want? I love her."</p>
+
+<p>"You piece of clay!" cried Sugarman contemptuously. "Love will not
+turn machines, much less buy them. You must have a dowry. Her father
+has a big stocking&mdash;he can well afford it."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[310]</span></p>
+
+<p>Leibel's eyes lit up. There was really no reason why he should not
+have bread-and-cheese with his kisses.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, if <i>you</i> went to her father," pursued the Shadchan, "the odds
+are that he would not even give you his daughter&mdash;to say nothing of
+the dowry. After all, it is a cheek of you to aspire so high. As you
+told me from the first, you haven't saved a penny. Even my commission
+you won't be able to pay till you get the dowry. But if <i>I</i> go, I do
+not despair of getting a substantial sum&mdash;to say nothing of the
+daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think you had better go," said Leibel eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"But if I do this thing for you I shall want a pound more," rejoined
+Sugarman.</p>
+
+<p>"A pound more!" echoed Leibel, in dismay. "Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because Rose Green's hump is of gold," replied Sugarman oracularly.
+"Also, she is fair to see, and many men desire her."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have always your five per cent on the dowry."</p>
+
+<p>"It will be less than Volcovitch's," explained Sugarman. "You see,
+Green has other and less beautiful daughters."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but then it settles itself more easily. Say five shillings."</p>
+
+<p>"Eliphaz Green is a hard man," said the Shadchan instead.</p>
+
+<p>"Ten shillings is the most I will give!"</p>
+
+<p>"Twelve and sixpence is the least I will take. Eliphaz Green haggles
+so terribly."</p>
+
+<p>They split the difference, and so eleven and threepence represented
+the predominance of Eliphaz Green's stinginess over Volcovitch's.</p>
+
+<p>The very next day Sugarman invaded the Green work-room. Rose bent over
+her seams, her heart fluttering. Leibel had duly apprised her of the
+roundabout manner in<span class="pagenum">[311]</span> which she would have to be won, and she had
+acquiesced in the comedy. At the least it would save her the trouble
+of father-taming.</p>
+
+<p>Sugarman's entry was brusque and breathless. He was overwhelmed with
+joyous emotion. His blue bandanna trailed agitatedly from his
+coat-tail.</p>
+
+<p>"At last!" he cried, addressing the little white-haired master-tailor,
+"I have the very man for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes?" grunted Eliphaz, unimpressed. The monosyllable was packed with
+emotion. It said: "Have you really the face to come to me again with
+an ideal man?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has all the qualities that you desire," began the Shadchan, in a
+tone that repudiated the implications of the monosyllable. "He is
+young, strong, God-fearing&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Has he any money?" grumpily interrupted Eliphaz.</p>
+
+<p>"He <i>will</i> have money," replied Sugarman unhesitatingly, "when he
+marries."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" The father's voice relaxed, and his foot lay limp on the
+treadle. He worked one of his machines himself, and paid himself the
+wages so as to enjoy the profit. "How much will he have?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think he will have fifty pounds; and the least you can do is to let
+him have fifty pounds," replied Sugarman, with the same happy
+ambiguity.</p>
+
+<p>Eliphaz shook his head on principle.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you will," said Sugarman, "when you learn how fine a man he is."</p>
+
+<p>The flush of confusion and trepidation already on Leibel's countenance
+became a rosy glow of modesty, for he could not help overhearing what
+was being said, owing to the lull of the master-tailor's machine.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, then," rejoined Eliphaz.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me, first, if you will give fifty to a young, healthy,<span class="pagenum">[312]</span>
+hard-working, God-fearing man, whose idea it is to start as a
+master-tailor on his own account? And you know how profitable that
+is!"</p>
+
+<p>"To a man like that," said Eliphaz, in a burst of enthusiasm, "I would
+give as much as twenty-seven pounds ten!"</p>
+
+<p>Sugarman groaned inwardly, but Leibel's heart leaped with joy. To get
+four months' wages at a stroke! With twenty-seven pounds ten he could
+certainly procure several machines, especially on the instalment
+system. Out of the corners of his eyes he shot a glance at Rose, who
+was beyond earshot.</p>
+
+<p>"Unless you can promise thirty it is waste of time mentioning his
+name," said Sugarman.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well&mdash;who is he?"</p>
+
+<p>Sugarman bent down, lowering his voice into the father's ear.</p>
+
+<p>"What! Leibel!" cried Eliphaz, outraged.</p>
+
+<p>"Sh!" said Sugarman, "or he will overhear your delight, and ask more.
+He has his nose high enough as it is."</p>
+
+<p>"B&mdash;b&mdash;b&mdash;ut," sputtered the bewildered parent, "I know Leibel myself.
+I see him every day. I don't want a Shadchan to find me a man I
+know&mdash;a mere hand in my own workshop!"</p>
+
+<p>"Your talk has neither face nor figure," answered Sugarman sternly.
+"It is just the people one sees every day that one knows least. I
+warrant that if I had not put it into your head you would never have
+dreamt of Leibel as a son-in-law. Come now, confess."</p>
+
+<p>Eliphaz grunted vaguely, and the Shadchan went on triumphantly. "I
+thought as much. And yet where could you find a better man to keep
+your daughter?"</p>
+
+<p>"He ought to be content with her alone," grumbled her father.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[313]</span></p>
+
+<p>Sugarman saw the signs of weakening, and dashed in, full strength.
+"It's a question whether he will have her at all. I have not been to
+him about her yet. I awaited your approval of the idea." Leibel
+admired the verbal accuracy of these statements, which he just caught.</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't know he would be having money," murmured Eliphaz.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you didn't know. That's what the Shadchan is for&mdash;to point
+out the things that are under your nose."</p>
+
+<p>"But where will he be getting this money from?"</p>
+
+<p>"From you," said Sugarman frankly.</p>
+
+<p>"From me?"</p>
+
+<p>"From whom else? Are you not his employer? It has been put by for his
+marriage-day."</p>
+
+<p>"He has saved it?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has not <i>spent</i> it," said Sugarman, impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"But do you mean to say he has saved fifty pounds?"</p>
+
+<p>"If he could manage to save fifty pounds out of your wages he would be
+indeed a treasure," said Sugarman. "Perhaps it might be thirty."</p>
+
+<p>"But you said fifty."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>you</i> came down to thirty," retorted the Shadchan. "You cannot
+expect him to have more than your daughter brings."</p>
+
+<p>"I never said thirty," Eliphaz reminded him. "Twenty-seven ten was my
+last bid."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well; that will do as a basis of negotiations," said Sugarman
+resignedly. "I will call upon him this evening. If I were to go over
+and speak to him now he would perceive you were anxious and raise his
+terms, and that will never do. Of course, you will not mind allowing
+me a pound more for finding you so economical a son-in-law?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[314]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Not a penny more."</p>
+
+<p>"You need not fear," said Sugarman resentfully. "It is not likely I
+shall be able to persuade him to take so economical a father-in-law.
+So you will be none the worse for promising."</p>
+
+<p>"Be it so," said Eliphaz, with a gesture of weariness, and he started
+his machine again.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-seven pounds ten, remember," said Sugarman, above the whirr.</p>
+
+<p>Eliphaz nodded his head, whirring his wheelwork louder.</p>
+
+<p>"And paid before the wedding, mind?"</p>
+
+<p>The machine took no notice.</p>
+
+<p>"Before the wedding, mind," repeated Sugarman. "Before we go under the
+canopy."</p>
+
+<p>"Go now, go now!" grunted Eliphaz, with a gesture of impatience. "It
+shall be all well." And the white-haired head bowed immovably over its
+work.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening Rose extracted from her father the motive of Sugarman's
+visit, and confessed that the idea was to her liking.</p>
+
+<p>"But dost thou think he will have me, little father?" she asked, with
+cajoling eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Anyone would have my Rose."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but Leibel is different. So many years he has sat at my side and
+said nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"He had his work to think of; he is a good, saving youth."</p>
+
+<p>"At this very moment Sugarman is trying to persuade him&mdash;not so? I
+suppose he will want much money."</p>
+
+<p>"Be easy, my child." And he passed his discoloured hand over her hair.</p>
+
+<p>Sugarman turned up the next day, and reported that Leibel was
+unobtainable under thirty pounds, and Eliphaz,<span class="pagenum">[315]</span> weary of the contest,
+called over Leibel, till that moment carefully absorbed in his
+scientific chalk-marks, and mentioned the thing to him for the first
+time. "I am not a man to bargain," Eliphaz said, and so he gave the
+young man his tawny hand, and a bottle of rum sprang from somewhere,
+and work was suspended for five minutes, and the "hands" all drank
+amid surprised excitement. Sugarman's visits had prepared them to
+congratulate Rose. But Leibel was a shock.</p>
+
+<p>The formal engagement was marked by even greater junketing, and at
+last the marriage-day came. Leibel was resplendent in a diagonal
+frock-coat, cut by his own hand, and Rose stepped from the cab a
+medley of flowers, fairness, and white silk, and behind her came two
+bridesmaids&mdash;her sisters&mdash;a trio that glorified the spectator-strewn
+pavement outside the Synagogue. Eliphaz looked almost tall in his
+shiny high hat and frilled shirt-front. Sugarman arrived on foot,
+carrying red-socked little Ebenezer tucked under his arm.</p>
+
+<p>Leibel and Rose were not the only couple to be disposed of, for it was
+the thirty-third day of the Omer&mdash;a day fruitful in marriages.</p>
+
+<p>But at last their turn came. They did not, however, come in their
+turn, and their special friends among the audience wondered why they
+had lost their precedence. After several later marriages had taken
+place, a whisper began to circulate. The rumour of a hitch gained
+ground steadily, and the sensation was proportionate. And, indeed, the
+rose was not to be picked without a touch of the thorn.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually the facts leaked out, and a buzz of talk and comment ran
+through the waiting Synagogue. Eliphaz had not paid up!</p>
+
+<p>At first he declared he would put down the money immediately<span class="pagenum">[316]</span> after
+the ceremony. But the wary Sugarman, schooled by experience, demanded
+its instant delivery on behalf of his other client. Hard-pressed,
+Eliphaz produced ten sovereigns from his trousers' pocket, and
+tendered them on account. These Sugarman disdainfully refused, and the
+negotiations were suspended. The bridegroom's party was encamped in
+one room, the bride's in another, and after a painful delay Eliphaz
+sent an emissary to say that half the amount should be forthcoming,
+the extra five pounds in a bright new Bank of England note. Leibel,
+instructed and encouraged by Sugarman, stood firm.</p>
+
+<p>And then arose a hubbub of voices, a chaos of suggestions; friends
+rushed to and fro between the camps, some emerging from their seats in
+the Synagogue to add to the confusion. But Eliphaz had taken his stand
+upon a rock&mdash;he had no more ready money. To-morrow, the next day, he
+would have some. And Leibel, pale and dogged, clutched tighter at
+those machines that were slipping away momently from him. He had not
+yet seen his bride that morning, and so her face was shadowy compared
+with the tangibility of those machines. Most of the other maidens were
+married women by now, and the situation was growing desperate. From
+the female camp came terrible rumours of bridesmaids in hysterics, and
+a bride that tore her wreath in a passion of shame and humiliation.
+Eliphaz sent word that he would give an I O U for the balance, but
+that he really could not muster any more current coin. Sugarman
+instructed the ambassador to suggest that Eliphaz should raise the
+money among his friends.</p>
+
+<p>And the short spring day slipped away. In vain the minister, apprised
+of the block, lengthened out the formul&aelig; for the other pairs, and
+blessed them with more reposeful unction. It was impossible to stave
+off the Leibel-Green<span class="pagenum">[317]</span> item indefinitely, and at last Rose remained the
+only orange-wreathed spinster in the Synagogue. And then there was a
+hush of solemn suspense, that swelled gradually into a steady rumble
+of babbling tongues as minute succeeded minute and the final bridal
+party still failed to appear. The latest bulletin pictured the bride
+in a dead faint. The afternoon was waning fast. The minister left his
+post near the canopy, under which so many lives had been united, and
+came to add his white tie to the forces for compromise. But he fared
+no better than the others. Incensed at the obstinacy of the
+antagonists, he declared he would close the Synagogue. He gave the
+couple ten minutes to marry in or quit. Then chaos came, and
+pandemonium&mdash;a frantic babel of suggestion and exhortation from the
+crowd. When five minutes had passed, a legate from Eliphaz announced
+that his side had scraped together twenty pounds, and that this was
+their final bid.</p>
+
+<p>Leibel wavered; the long day's combat had told upon him; the reports
+of the bride's distress had weakened him. Even Sugarman had lost his
+cocksureness of victory. A few minutes more and both commissions might
+slip through his fingers. Once the parties left the Synagogue it would
+not be easy to drive them there another day. But he cheered on his man
+still&mdash;one could always surrender at the tenth minute.</p>
+
+<p>At the eighth the buzz of tongues faltered suddenly, to be transposed
+into a new key, so to speak. Through the gesticulating assembly swept
+that murmur of expectation which crowds know when the procession is
+coming at last. By some mysterious magnetism all were aware that the
+<span class="smcap">Bride</span> herself&mdash;the poor hysteric bride&mdash;had left the paternal camp,
+was coming in person to plead with her mercenary lover.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[318]</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[319]</span></p><p>And as the glory of her and the flowers and the white draperies loomed
+upon Leibel's vision his heart melted in worship, and he knew his
+citadel would crumble in ruins at her first glance, at her first
+touch. Was it fair fighting? As his troubled vision cleared and as she
+came nigh unto him, he saw to his amazement that she was speckless and
+composed&mdash;no trace of tears dimmed the fairness of her face, there was
+no disarray in her bridal wreath.</p>
+
+<p>The clock showed the ninth minute.</p>
+
+<p>She put her hand appealingly on his arm, while a heavenly light came
+into her face&mdash;the expression of a Joan of Arc animating her country.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not give in, Leibel," she said. "Do not have me! Do not let them
+persuade thee. By my life thou must not! Go home!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i084.jpg" width="407" height="644" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;BY MY LIFE THOU MUST NOT!&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So at the eleventh minute the vanquished Eliphaz produced the balance,
+and they all lived happily ever afterwards.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[320]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="A_Double-Barrelled_Ghost"><i>A Double-Barrelled Ghost.</i></h2>
+
+<p>I was ruined. The bank in which I had been a sleeping-partner from my
+cradle smashed suddenly, and I was exempted from income tax at one
+fell blow. It became necessary to dispose even of the family mansion
+and the hereditary furniture. The shame of not contributing to my
+country's exchequer spurred me to earnest reflection upon how to earn
+an income, and, having mixed myself another lemon-squash, I threw
+myself back on the canvas garden-chair, and watched the white, scented
+wreaths of my cigar-smoke hanging in the drowsy air, and provoking
+inexperienced bees to settle upon them. It was the sort of summer
+afternoon on which to eat lotus, and to sip the dew from the lips of
+Amaryllises; but although I had an affianced Amaryllis (whose
+Christian name was Jenny Grant), I had not the heart to dally with her
+in view of my sunk fortunes. She loved me for myself, no doubt, but
+then I was not myself since the catastrophe; and although she had
+hastened to assure me of her unchanged regard, I was not at all
+certain whether <i>I</i> should be able to support a wife in addition to
+all my other misfortunes. So that I was not so comfortable that
+afternoon as I appeared to my perspiring valet: no rose in the garden
+had a pricklier thorn than I. The thought of my poverty weighed me
+down; and when the setting sun began flinging bars of gold among the
+clouds, the reminder of my past extravagance made my heart heavier
+still, and I broke down utterly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[321]</span></p>
+
+<p>Swearing at the manufacturers of such collapsible garden-chairs, I was
+struggling to rise when I perceived my rings of smoke comporting
+themselves strangely. They were widening and curving and flowing into
+definite outlines, as though the finger of the wind were shaping them
+into a rough sketch of the human figure. Sprawling amid the ruins of
+my chair, I watched the nebulous contours grow clearer and clearer,
+till at last the agitation subsided, and a misty old gentleman, clad
+in vapour of an eighteenth-century cut, stood plainly revealed upon
+the sun-flecked grass.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon, John," said the old gentleman, courteously removing
+his cocked hat.</p>
+
+<p>"Good afternoon!" I gasped. "How do you know my name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I have not forgotten my own," he replied. "I am John
+Halliwell, your great-grandfather. Don't you remember me?"</p>
+
+<p>A flood of light burst upon my brain. Of course! I ought to have
+recognised him at once from the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, just
+about to be sold by auction. The artist had gone to full length in
+painting him, and here he was complete, from his white wig,
+beautifully frizzled by the smoke, to his buckled shoes, from his
+knee-breeches to the frills at his wrists.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! pray pardon my not having recognised you," I cried remorsefully;
+"I have such a bad memory for faces. Won't you take a chair?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, I have not sat down for a century and a half," he said simply.
+"Pray be seated yourself."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i085.jpg" width="436" height="568" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;PRAY BE SEATED YOURSELF,&quot; SAID THE GHOST SIMPLY.</p>
+
+<p>Thus reminded of my undignified position, I gathered myself up, and
+readjusting the complex apparatus, confided myself again to its canvas
+caresses. Then, grown conscious of my shirt-sleeves, I murmured,<span class="pagenum">[322]</span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[323]</span></p><p>"Excuse my deshabille. I did not expect to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am aware the season is inopportune," he said apologetically. "But I
+did not care to put off my visit till Christmas. You see, with us
+Christmas is a kind of Bank Holiday; and when there is a general
+excursion, a refined spirit prefers its own fireside. Moreover, I am
+not, as you may see, very robust, and I scarce like to risk exposing
+myself to such an extreme change of temperature. Your English
+Christmas is so cold. With the pyrometer at three hundred and fifty,
+it is hardly prudent to pass to thirty. On a sultry day like this the
+contrast is less marked."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand," I said sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>"But I should hardly have ventured," he went on, "to trespass upon you
+at this untimely season merely out of deference to my own
+valetudinarian instincts. The fact is, I am a <i>litt&eacute;rateur</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, indeed," I said vaguely; "I was not aware of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody was aware of it," he replied sadly; "but my calling at this
+professional hour will, perhaps, go to substantiate my statement."</p>
+
+<p>I looked at him blankly. Was he quite sane? All the apparitions I had
+ever heard of spoke with some approach to coherence, however imbecile
+their behaviour. The statistics of insanity in the spiritual world
+have never been published, but I suspect the percentage of madness is
+high. Mere harmless idiocy is doubtless the prevalent form of
+dementia, judging by the way the poor unhappy spirits set about
+compassing their ends; but some of their actions can only be explained
+by the more violent species of mania. My great-grandfather seemed to
+read the suspicion in my eye, for he hastily continued:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is only the outside public who imagine that the spirits
+of literature really appear at Christmas. It is the<span class="pagenum">[324]</span> annuals that
+appear at Christmas. The real season at which we are active on earth
+is summer, as every journalist knows. By Christmas the authors of our
+being have completely forgotten our existence. As a writer myself, and
+calling in connection with a literary matter, I thought it more
+professional to pay my visit during the dog days, especially as your
+being in trouble supplied me with an excuse for asking permission to
+go beyond bounds."</p>
+
+<p>"You knew I was in trouble?" I murmured, touched by this sympathy from
+an unexpected quarter.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. And from a selfish point of view I am not sorry. You have
+always been so inconsiderately happy that I could never find a seemly
+pretext to get out to see you."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it only when your descendants are in trouble that you are allowed
+to visit them?" I enquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Even so," he answered. "Of course spirits whose births were tragic,
+who were murdered into existence, are allowed to supplement the
+inefficient police departments of the upper globe, and a similar
+charter is usually extended to those who have hidden treasures on
+their conscience; but it is obvious that if all spirits were accorded
+what furloughs they pleased, eschatology would become a farce. Sir,
+you have no idea of the number of bogus criminal romances tendered
+daily by those wishing to enjoy the roving license of avenging
+spirits, for the ex-assassinated are the most enviable of immortals,
+and cases of personation are of frequent occurrence. Our actresses,
+too, are always pretending to have lost jewels; there is no end to the
+excuses. The Christmas Bank Holiday is naturally inadequate to our
+needs. Sir, I should have been far happier if my descendants had gone
+wrong; but in spite of the large fortune I had accumulated, both your
+father and your grandfather were of exemplary respectability and
+unruffled cheerfulness. The solitary<span class="pagenum">[325]</span> outing I had was when your
+father attended a s&eacute;ance, and I was knocked up in the middle of the
+night. But I did not enjoy my holiday in the least; the indignity of
+having to move the furniture made the blood boil in my veins as in a
+spirit-lamp, and exposed me to the malicious badinage of my circle on
+my return. I protested that I did not care a rap; but I was mightily
+rejoiced when I learnt that your father had denounced the proceedings
+as a swindle, and was resolved never to invite me to his table again.
+When you were born I thought you were born to trouble, as the sparks
+fly upwards from our dwelling-place; but I was mistaken. Up till now
+your life has been a long summer afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but now the shades are falling," I said grimly. "It looks as if
+my life henceforwards will be a long holiday&mdash;for you."</p>
+
+<p>He shook his wig mournfully.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I am only out on parole. I have had to give my word of honour to
+try to set you on your legs again as soon as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"You couldn't have come at a more opportune moment," I cried,
+remembering how he had found me. "You are a good as well as a
+great-grandfather, and I am proud of my descent. Won't you have a
+cigar?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, I never smoke&mdash;on earth," said the spirit hurriedly, with
+a flavour of bitter in his accents. "Let us to the point. You have
+been reduced to the painful necessity of earning your living."</p>
+
+<p>I nodded silently, and took a sip of lemon-squash. A strange sense of
+salvation lulled my soul.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you propose to do it?" asked my great-grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I leave that to you," I said confidingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you say to a literary career?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[326]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What?" I gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"A literary career," he repeated. "What makes you so astonished?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, for one thing it's exactly what Tom Addlestone, the
+leader-writer of the <i>Hurrygraph</i>, was recommending to me this
+morning. He said: 'John, my boy, if I had had your advantages ten
+years ago, I should have been spared many a headache and supplied with
+many a dinner. It may turn out a lucky thing yet that you gravitated
+so to literary society, and that so many press men had free passes to
+your suppers. Consider the number of men of letters you have mixed
+drinks with! Why, man, you can succeed in any branch of literature you
+please.'"</p>
+
+<p>My great-grandfather's face was radiant. Perhaps it was only the
+setting sun that touched it.</p>
+
+<p>"A chip of the old block," he murmured. "That was I in my young days.
+Johnson, Goldsmith, Sheridan, Burke, Hume, I knew them all&mdash;gay dogs,
+gay dogs! Except that great hulking brute of a Johnson," he added,
+with a sudden savage snarl that showed his white teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"I told Addlestone that I had no literary ability whatever, and he
+scoffed at me for my simplicity. All the same, I think he was only
+poking fun at me. My friends might puff me out to bull-size; but I am
+only a frog, and I should very soon burst. The public might be cajoled
+into buying one book; they could not be duped a second time. Don't you
+think I was right? I haven't any literary ability, have I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not, certainly not," replied my great-grandfather with an
+alacrity and emphasis that would have seemed suspicious in a mere
+mortal. "But it does seem a shame to waste so great an opportunity.
+The ball that Addlestone waited years for is at your foot, and it is
+grievous to think<span class="pagenum">[327]</span> that there it must remain merely because you do not
+know how to kick it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but what's a man to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"What's a man to do?" repeated my great-grandfather contemptuously.
+"Get a ghost, of course."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove!" I cried with a whistle. "That's a good idea! Addlestone has
+a ghost to do his leaders for him when he's lazy. I've seen the young
+fellow myself. Tom pays him six guineas a dozen, and gets three
+guineas apiece himself. But of course Tom has to live in much better
+style, and that makes it fair all round. You mean that I am to take
+advantage of my influence to get some other fellow work, and take a
+commission for the use of my name? That seems feasible enough. But
+where am I to find a ghost with the requisite talents?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here," said my great-grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>"What! You?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I," he replied calmly.</p>
+
+<p>"But you couldn't write&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not now, certainly not. All I wrote now would be burnt."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how the devil&mdash;?" I began.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" he interrupted nervously. "Listen, and I will a tale unfold.
+It is called <i>The Learned Pig</i>. I wrote it in my forty-fifth year, and
+it is full of sketches from the life of all the more notable
+personages of my time, from Lord Chesterfield to Mrs. Thrale, from Peg
+Woffington to Adam Smith and the ingenious Mr. Dibdin. I have painted
+the portrait of Sir Joshua quite as faithfully as he has painted mine.
+Of course much of the dialogue is real, taken from conversations
+preserved in my note-book. It is, I believe, a complete picture of the
+period, and being the only book I ever wrote or intended to write, I
+put my whole self into it, as well as all my friends."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[328]</span></p>
+
+<p>"It must be, indeed, your masterpiece," I cried enthusiastically. "But
+why is it called <i>The Learned Pig</i>, and how has it escaped
+publication?"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall hear. The learned pig is Dr. Johnson. He refused to take
+wine with me. I afterwards learnt that he had given up strong liqueurs
+altogether, and I went to see him again, but he received me with
+epigrams. He is the pivot of my book, all the other characters
+revolving about him. Naturally, I did not care to publish during his
+lifetime; not entirely, I admit, out of consideration to his feelings,
+but because foolish admirers had placed him on such a pedestal that he
+could damn any book he did not relish. I made sure of surviving him,
+so many and diverse were his distempers; whereas my manuscript
+survived me. In the moment of death I strove to tell your grandfather
+of the hiding-place in which I had bestowed it; but I could only make
+signs to which he had not the clue. You can imagine how it has
+embittered my spirit to have missed the aim of my life and my due
+niche in the pantheon of letters. In vain I strove to be registered
+among the 'hidden treasure' spirits, with the perambulatory privileges
+pertaining to the class. I was told that to recognise manuscripts
+under the head of 'treasures' would be to open a fresh door to abuse,
+there being few but had scribbled in their time and had a good conceit
+of their compositions to boot. I could offer no proofs of the value of
+my work, not even printers' proofs, and even the fact that the
+manuscript was concealed behind a sliding panel availed not to bring
+it into the coveted category. Moreover, not only did I have no other
+pretext to call on my descendants, but both my son and grandson were
+too respectable to be willingly connected with letters and too
+flourishing to be enticed by the prospects of profit. To you, however,
+this book will prove the avenue to fresh fortune."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[329]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean I am to publish it under your name?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, under yours."</p>
+
+<p>"But, then, where does the satisfaction come in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your name is the same as mine."</p>
+
+<p>"I see; but still, why not tell the truth about it? In a preface, for
+instance."</p>
+
+<p>"Who would believe it? In my own day I could not credit that
+Macpherson spoke truly about the way Ossian came into his possession,
+nor to judge from gossip I have had with the younger ghosts did anyone
+attach credence to Sir Walter Scott's introductions."</p>
+
+<p>"True," I said musingly. "It is a played-out dodge. But I am not
+certain whether an attack on Dr. Johnson would go down nowadays. We
+are aware that the man had porcine traits, but we have almost
+canonised him."</p>
+
+<p>"The very reason why the book will be a success," he replied eagerly.
+"I understand that in these days of yours the best way of attracting
+attention is to fly in the face of all received opinion, and so in the
+realm of history to whitewash the villains and tar and feather the
+saints. The sliding panel of which I spoke is just behind the picture
+of me. Lose no time. Go at once, even as I must."</p>
+
+<p>The shadowy contours of his form waved agitatedly in the wind.</p>
+
+<p>"But how do you know anyone will bring it out?" I said doubtfully. "Am
+I to haunt the publishers' offices till&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I will do that," he interrupted in excitement. "Promise me
+you will help me."</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't feel at all sure it stands a ghost of a chance," I said,
+growing colder in proportion as he grew more enthusiastic.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the only chance of a ghost," he pleaded. "Come, give me your
+word. Any of your literary friends will get<span class="pagenum">[330]</span> you a publisher, and
+where could you get a more promising ghost?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, nonsense!" I said quietly, unconsciously quoting Ibsen. "There
+must be ghosts all the country over, as thick as the sand of the sea."</p>
+
+<p>I was determined to put the matter on its proper footing, for I saw
+that under pretence of restoring my fortunes he was really trying to
+get me to pull his chestnuts out of the fire, and I resented the
+deceptive spirit that could put forward such tasks as favours. It was
+evident that he cherished a post-mortem grudge against the great
+lexicographer, as well as a posthumous craving for fame, and wished to
+use me as the instrument of his reputation and his revenge. But I was
+a man of the world, and I was not going to be rushed by a mere
+phantom.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't deny there are plenty of ghosts about," he answered with
+insinuative deference. "Only will any of the others work for nothing?"</p>
+
+<p>He saw he had scored a point, and his eyes twinkled.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I don't know that I approve of black-legs," I answered
+sternly. "You are taking the bread and butter out of some honest
+ghost's mouth."</p>
+
+<p>The corners of his own mouth drooped; his eyes grew misty; he looked
+fading away. "Most true," he faltered; "but be pitiful. Have you no
+great-grand-filial feelings?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I lost everything in the crash," I answered coldly. "Suppose the
+book's a frost?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shan't mind," he said eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't suppose you <i>would</i> mind a frost," I retorted
+witheringly. "But look at the chaff you'd be letting me in for. Hadn't
+you better put off publication for a century or two?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," he cried wildly; "our mansion will pass into<span class="pagenum">[331]</span> strange hands.
+I shall not have the right of calling on the new proprietors."</p>
+
+<p>"Phew!" I whistled; "perhaps that's why you timed your visit now, you
+artful old codger. I have always heard appearances are deceptive.
+However, I have ever been a patron of letters; and although I cannot
+approve of post-mundane malice, and think the dead past should be let
+bury its dead, still, if you are set upon it, I will try and use my
+influence to get your book published."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless you!" he cried tremulously, with all the effusiveness natural
+to an author about to see himself in print, and trembled so violently
+that he dissipated himself away.</p>
+
+<p>I stood staring a moment at the spot where he had stood, pleased at
+having out-man&oelig;uvred him; then my chair gave way with another
+crash, and I picked myself up painfully, together with the dead stump
+of my cigar, and brushed the ash off my trousers, and rubbed my eyes
+and wondered if I had been dreaming. But no! when I ran into the
+cheerless dining-room, with its pervading sense of imminent auction, I
+found the sliding panel behind the portrait by Reynolds, which seemed
+to beam kindly encouragement upon me, and, lo! <i>The Learned Pig</i> was
+there in a mass of musty manuscript.</p>
+
+<p>As everybody knows, the book made a hit. The <i>Acad&aelig;um</i> was unusually
+generous in its praise: "A lively picture of the century of
+farthingales and stomachers, marred only by numerous anachronisms and
+that stilted air of faked-up arch&aelig;ological knowledge which is, we
+suppose, inevitable in historical novels. The conversations are
+particularly artificial. Still, we can forgive Mr. Halliwell a good
+deal of inaccuracy and inacquaintance with the period, in view of the
+graphic picture of the literary dictator from the novel point of view
+of a contemporary who was not among the<span class="pagenum">[332]</span> worshippers. It is curious
+how the honest, sterling character of the man is brought out all the
+more clearly from the incapacity of the narrator to comprehend its
+greatness&mdash;to show this was a task that called for no little skill and
+subtlety. If it were only for this one ingenious idea, Mr. Halliwell's
+book would stand out from the mass of abortive attempts to resuscitate
+the past. He has failed to picture the times, but he has done what is
+better&mdash;he has given us human beings who are alive, instead of the
+futile shadows that flit through the Walhalla of the average
+historical novel."</p>
+
+<p>All the leading critics were at one as to the cleverness with which
+the great soul of Dr. Johnson was made to stand out on the background
+of detraction, and the public was universally agreed that this was the
+only readable historical novel published for many years, and that the
+anachronisms didn't matter a pin. I don't know what I had done to Tom
+Addlestone; but when everybody was talking about me, he went about
+saying that I kept a ghost. I was annoyed, for I did not keep one in
+any sense, and I openly defied the world to produce him. Why, I never
+saw him again myself&mdash;I believe he was too disgusted with the fillip
+he had given Dr. Johnson's reputation, and did not even take advantage
+of the Christmas Bank Holiday. But Addlestone's libel got to Jenny
+Grant's ears, and she came to me indignantly, and said: "I won't have
+it. You must either give up me or the ghost."</p>
+
+<p>"To give up you would be to give up the ghost, darling," I answered
+soothingly. "But you, and you alone, have a right to the truth. It is
+not my ghost at all, it is my great-grandfather's."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean to say he bequeathed him to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It came to that."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[333]</span></p>
+
+<p>I then told her the truth, and showed how in any case the profits of
+my ancestor's book rightfully reverted backwards to me. So we were
+married on them, and Jenny, fired by my success, tried <i>her</i> hand on a
+novel, and published it, truthfully enough, under the name of J.
+Halliwell. She has written all my stories ever since, including this
+one; which, if it be necessarily false in the letter, is true in the
+spirit.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[334]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="Vagaries_of_a_Viscount"><i>Vagaries of a Viscount.</i></h2>
+
+<p>That every man has a romance in his life has always been a pet theory
+of mine, so I was not surprised to find the immaculate Dorking smoking
+a clay pipe in Cable Street (late Ratcliff Highway) at half-past eight
+of a winter's morning. Nor was I surprised to find myself there,
+because, as a romancer, I have a poetic license to go anywhere and see
+everything. Viscount Dorking had just come out of an old clo' shop,
+and was got up like a sailor. Under his arm was a bundle. He lurched
+against me without recognising me, for I, too, was masquerading in my
+shabbiest and roughest attire, and the morning was bleak and foggy,
+the round red sun flaming in the forehead of the morning sky like the
+eye of a cyclop. But there could be no doubt it was Dorking&mdash;even if I
+had not been acquainted with the sedate Viscount (that paradox of the
+peerage, whose treatises on pure mathematics were the joy of Senior
+Wranglers) I should have suspected something shady from the whiteness
+of my sailor's hands.</p>
+
+<p>Dorking was a dapper little man, almost dissociable from gloves and a
+chimneypot. The sight of him shambling along like one of the crew of
+H. M. S. <i>Pinafore</i> gave me a pleasant thrill of excitement. I turned,
+and followed him along the narrow yellow street. He made towards the
+Docks, turning down King David Lane. He was apparently without any
+instrument of protection, though I, for my part, was glad to feel the
+grasp of the old umbrella that walks<span class="pagenum">[335]</span> always with me, hand in knob.
+Hard by the Shadwell Basin he came to a halt before a frowsy
+coffee-house, reflectively removed his pipe from his mouth, and
+whistled a bar of a once popular air in a peculiar manner. Then he
+pushed open the bleared glass door, and was lost to view.</p>
+
+<p>After an instant's hesitation I pulled my sombrero over my eyes and
+strode in after him, plunging into a wave of musty warmth not entirely
+disagreeable after the frigid street. The boxes were full of queer
+waterside characters, among whom flitted a young woman robustly
+beautiful. The Viscount was already smiling at her when I entered.
+"Bring us the usual," he said, in a rough accent.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, Jenny, pint and one," impatiently growled a
+weather-beaten old ruffian in a pilot's cap.</p>
+
+<p>"Pawn your face!" murmured Jenny, turning to me with an enquiring air.</p>
+
+<p>"Pint and one," I said boldly, in as husky a tone as I could squeeze
+out.</p>
+
+<p>Several battered visages, evidently belonging to <i>habitu&eacute;s</i> of the
+place, were bent suspiciously in my direction; perhaps because my
+rig-out, though rough, had no flavour of sea-salt or river-mud, for no
+one took the least notice of Dorking, except the comely attendant. I
+waited with some curiosity for my fare, which turned out to be nothing
+more mysterious than a pint of coffee and one thick slice of bread and
+butter. Not to appear ignorant of the prices ruling, I tendered Jenny
+a sixpence, whereupon she returned me fourpence-halfpenny. This
+appeared to me so ridiculously cheap that I had not the courage to
+offer her the change as I had intended, nor did she seem to expect it.
+The pint of coffee was served in one great hulking cup such as
+Gargantua might have quaffed. I took a sip, and found it of the
+flavour of chalybeate springs. But it was hot, and I made<span class="pagenum">[336]</span> shift to
+drink a little, casting furtive glances at Dorking, three boxes off
+across the gangway.</p>
+
+<p>My gentleman sailor seemed quite at home, swallowing stolidly as
+though at his own breakfast-table. I grew impatient for him to have
+done, and beguiled the time by studying a placard on the wall offering
+a reward for information as to the whereabouts of a certain ship's
+cook who was wanted for knifing human flesh. And presently, curiously
+enough, in comes a police-sergeant on this very matter, and out goes
+Dorking (rather hastily, I thought), with me at his heels.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner had he got round a corner than he started running at a rate
+that gave me a stitch in the side. He did not stop till he reached a
+cab-rank. There was only one vehicle on it, and the coughing,
+red-nosed driver, unpleasantly suggesting a mixture of grog and fog,
+was climbing to his seat when I came cautiously and breathlessly up,
+and Dorking was returning to his trousers' pocket a jingling mass of
+gold and silver coins, which he had evidently been exhibiting to the
+sceptical cabman. He seemed to walk these regions with the
+fearlessness of Una in the enchanted forest. I had no resource but to
+hang on to the rear, despite the alarums of "whip behind," raised by
+envious and inconsiderate urchins.</p>
+
+<p>And in this manner, defiantly dodging the cabman, who several times
+struck me unfairly behind his back, I drove through a labyrinth of
+sordid streets to the Bethnal Green Museum. Here we alighted, and the
+Viscount strolled about outside the iron railings, from time to time
+anxiously scrutinising the church clock and looking towards the
+fountain which only performs in the summer, and was then wearing its
+winter night-cap. At last, as if weary of waiting, he walked with
+sudden precipitation towards the turnstile,<span class="pagenum">[337]</span> and was lost to view
+within. After a moment I followed him, but was stopped by the janitor,
+who, with an air of astonishment, informed me there was sixpence to
+pay, it being a Wednesday. I understood at once why the Viscount had
+selected this day, for there was no one to be seen inside, and it was
+five minutes ere I discovered him. He was in the National Portrait
+Gallery, before one of Sir Peter Lely's insipid beauties, which to my
+surprise he was copying in pencil. Evidently he was trying to while
+away the time. At eleven o'clock to the second he scribbled something
+underneath the sketch, folded it up carefully, picked up his bundle
+and walked unhesitatingly downstairs into the second gallery, where,
+after glancing about to assure himself that the policeman's head was
+turned away, he deposited the paper between two bottles of tape-worms,
+and stole out through the back door. Feverishly seizing the sketch, I
+followed him, but the policeman's eye was now upon me, and I had to
+walk with dignified slowness, though I was in agonies lest I should
+lose my man. My anxiety was justified; when I reached the grounds, the
+Viscount was nowhere to be seen. I ran hither and thither like a
+madman, along the back street and about the grounds, hacking my shins
+against a perambulator, and at last sank upon a frigid garden seat,
+breathless and exhausted. I now bethought me of the paper clenched in
+my fist, and, smoothing it out, deciphered these words faintly
+pencilled beneath a caricature of the Court beauty:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Not my fault you missed me. If you are still set on your folly, you
+will find me lunching at the Chingford Hotel."</p>
+
+<p>I sprang up exultant, new fire in my veins. True, the mystery was
+darkening, but it was the darkness that precedes the dawn.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[338]</span></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Cherchez la femme!</i>" I muttered, and darting down Three Colts Lane I
+reached the Junction, only to find the barrier dashed in my face. But
+half-a-crown drove it back, and I sprang into the guard's van on his
+very heels. A shilling stifled the oath on his lips, and transferred
+it to mine when I discovered I had jumped into the Enfield Fast.
+Before I really got to Chingford it was long past noon. But I found
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The Viscount was toying with a Chartreuse in the dining-room. The
+waiters eyed me suspiciously, for I was shabby and dusty and
+haggard-looking. To my surprise Dorking had doffed the sailor, and
+wore a loud checked suit! He looked up as I entered, but did not
+appear to recognise me. There was no one with him. Still I had found
+him. That was the prime thing.</p>
+
+<p>Becoming conscious I was faint with hunger, I took up the menu, when
+to my vexation I saw the Viscount pay his bill, and don an overcoat
+and a billy-cock, and ere I could snatch bite or sup I was striding
+along the slimy forest paths, among the gaunt, fog-wrapped trees,
+following the Viscount by his footprints whenever I lost him for a
+moment among the avenues. Dorking marched with quick, decisive steps.
+In the heart of the forest, by a great oak, whose roots sprawled in
+every direction, he came to a standstill. Hidden behind some
+brushwood, I awaited the sequel with beating heart.</p>
+
+<p>The Viscount took out a great coloured handkerchief, and spread it
+carefully over the roots of the oak; then he sat down on the
+handkerchief, and whistled the same bar of the same once popular air
+he had whistled outside the coffee-house. Immediately a broken-nosed
+man emerged from behind a bush, and addressed the Viscount. I strained
+my ears, but could not catch their conversation, but I heard<span class="pagenum">[339]</span> Dorking
+laugh heartily, as he sprang up and clapped the man on the shoulder.
+They walked off together.</p>
+
+<p>I was now excited to the wildest degree; I forgot the pangs of baffled
+appetite; my whole being was strung to find a key to the strange
+proceedings of the mathematical Viscount. Tracking their double
+footsteps through the mist, I found them hobnobbing in a public-house
+on the forest border. After peeping in, I ran round to another door,
+and stood in an adjoining bar, where, without being seen, I could have
+a snack of bread and cheese, and hear all.</p>
+
+<p>"Could you bring her round to my house to-night?" said Dorking, in a
+hoarse whisper. "You shall have the money down."</p>
+
+<p>"Right, sir!" said the man. And then their pewters clinked.</p>
+
+<p>To my chagrin this was all the conversation. The Viscount strode out
+alone&mdash;except for my company. The fog had grown deeper, and I was glad
+to be conducted to the station. This time we went to Liverpool Street.
+Dorking lingered at the book-stall, and at last enquired if they had
+yesterday's <i>Times</i>. Receiving a reply in the negative, he clucked his
+tongue impatiently. Then, as with a sudden thought, he ran up to the
+North London Railway book-stall, only to be again disappointed. He
+took out the great coloured handkerchief, and wiped his forehead. Then
+he entered into confidential conversation with an undistinguished
+stranger, fat and foreign, who had been looking eagerly up and down at
+the extreme end of the platform. Re-descending into the street, he
+jumped into a Charing Cross 'bus. As he went inside I had no option
+but to go outside, though the air was yellow and I felt chilled to the
+bone.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[340]</span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i086.jpg" width="301" height="325" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">IN CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION WITH AN UNDISTINGUISHED FOREIGNER.</p>
+
+<p>Alighting at Charing Cross, he went into the telegraph office, and
+wrote a telegram. The composition seemed to cause him great
+difficulty. Standing outside the door, I saw him discard two
+half-begun forms. When he came out I made a swift calculation of the
+chances, and determined to secure the two forms, even at the risk of
+losing him. Neither had an address. One read: "If you are still set on
+your fol&mdash;"; the other: "Come to-night if you are still&mdash;" Bolting out
+with these precious scraps of evidence, that only added fuel to the
+flame of curiosity that was consuming me, I turned cold to find the
+Viscount swallowed up in the crowd. After an instant's agonised
+hesitation, I hailed a<span class="pagenum">[341]</span> hansom, and drove to his flat in Victoria
+Street. The valet told me the Viscount was ill in bed, and could not
+see me. I read in his face that it was a lie. I resolved to loiter
+outside the building till Dorking's return.</p>
+
+<p>I had not long to wait. In less than ten minutes a hansom discharged
+him at my feet. Had I not been prepared for anything, I should not
+have recognised him again in his red whiskers, white hat, and blue
+spectacles. He rang the bell, and enquired of his own valet if
+Viscount Dorking was at home. The man said he was ill in bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we'll soon put him on his legs again," interrupted Dorking, with
+a professional air, and pushed his valet aside. In that moment the
+solution dawned upon me. <i>Dorking was mad!</i> Nothing but insanity would
+account for his day's vagaries. I felt it was my duty, as a
+fellow-creature, to look to him. I followed him, to the open-eyed
+consternation of the valet. Suddenly he turned upon me, and seized me
+savagely by the throat. I felt choking. My worst fear was confirmed.</p>
+
+<p>"No further, my man," he cried, flinging me back. "Now go, and tell
+her ladyship how you have earned your fee!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dorking! are you mad?" I gasped. "Don't you remember me&mdash;Mr.
+Pry&mdash;from the Bachelor's Club?"</p>
+
+<p>"Great heavens, Paul!" he cried. Then he fell back on an ottoman, and
+laughed till the whiskers ran down his sides. He always had a sense of
+humour, I remembered.</p>
+
+<p>We explained the situation to each other. Dorking had an eccentric
+aunt who wished to leave her money to him. Suddenly Dorking learnt
+from his valet, who was betrothed to her ladyship's maid, that she had
+taken it into her head he could not be so virtuous and so devoted to
+pure mathematics as he appeared, and so she had commissioned a<span class="pagenum">[342]</span>
+private detective agency to watch her nephew, and discover how deep
+the still waters ran. Incensed at the suspicion, he had that day
+started a course of action calculated to bamboozle the agency, and
+having no other meaning whatever.</p>
+
+<p>When he caught sight of me gazing at him so curiously he mistook me
+for one of its minions, and determined to lead me a dance; the mistake
+was confirmed by my patient obedience to his piping.</p>
+
+<p>The broken-nosed man was an accident. Anticipating his value as a
+beautiful false clue, Dorking laughed uproariously at the sight of
+him, and readily agreed to buy a French poodle.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[343]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="The_Queens_Triplets_a_Nursery_Tale_for_the_old">The Queen's Triplets, a Nursery Tale for the old.</h2>
+
+<div class="i087">
+
+<div id="i08701">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="i08702">&nbsp;</div>
+<div id="i08703">&nbsp;</div>
+
+<p><span class="hide">O</span>nce upon a time there was a Queen who unexpectedly gave birth to
+three Princes. They were all so exactly alike that after a moment or
+two it was impossible to remember which was the eldest or which was
+the youngest. Any two of them, sort them how you pleased, were always
+twins. They all cried in the same key and with the same comic
+grimaces. In short, there was not a hair's-breadth of difference
+between them&mdash;not that they had a hair's-breadth between them, for,
+like most babies, they were prematurely bald.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[344]</span></p>
+
+<p>The King was very much put out. He did not mind the expense of keeping
+three Heir Apparents, for that fell on the country, and was defrayed
+by an impost called "The Queen's Tax." But it was the consecrated
+custom of the kingdom that the crown should pass over to the eldest
+son, and the absence of accurate knowledge upon this point was
+perplexing. A triumvirate was out of the question; the multiplication
+of monarchs would be vexation to the people, and the rule of three
+would drive them mad.</p>
+
+<p>The Queen was just as annoyed, though on different grounds. She felt
+it hard enough to be the one mother in the realm who could not get the
+Queen's bounty, without having to suffer the King's reproaches. Her
+heart was broken, and she died soon after of laryngitis.</p>
+
+<p>To distinguish the triplets (when it was too late) they were always
+dressed one in green, one in blue, and one in black, the colours of
+the national standard, and naturally got to be popularly known by the
+sobriquets of the Green Prince, the Blue Prince, and the Black Prince.
+Every year they got older and older till at last they became young
+men. And every year the King got older and older till at last he
+became an old man, and the fear crept into his heart that he might be
+restored to his wife and leave the kingdom embroiled in civil feud
+unless he settled straightway who should be the heir. But, being
+human, notwithstanding his court laureates, he put off the
+disagreeable duty from day to day, and might have died without an
+heir, if the envoys from Paphlagonia had not aroused him to the
+necessity of a decision. For they announced that the Princess of
+Paphlagonia, being suddenly orphaned, would be sent to him in the
+twelfth moon that she might marry his eldest son as covenanted by
+ancient treaty. This was the last straw. "But I don't<span class="pagenum">[345]</span> know who is my
+eldest son!" yelled the King, who had a vast respect for covenants and
+the Constitution.</p>
+
+<p>In great perturbation he repaired to a famous Oracle, at that time
+worked by a priestess with her hair let down her back. The King asked
+her a plain question: "Which is my eldest son?"</p>
+
+<p>After foaming at the mouth like an open champagne bottle, she
+replied:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The eldest is he that the Princess shall wed."</p>
+
+</div><!--1087-->
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i088.jpg" width="326" height="348" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;THE ELDEST IS HE THAT THE PRINCESS SHALL WED.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The King said he knew that already, and was curtly told that if the
+replies did not give satisfaction he could go elsewhere. So he went to
+the wise men and the magicians, and<span class="pagenum">[346]</span> held a lev&eacute;e of them, and they
+gave him such goodly counsel that the Chief Magician was henceforth
+honoured with the privilege of holding the Green, Black, and Blue
+Tricolour over the King's head at mealtimes. Soon after, it being the
+twelfth moon, the King set forward with a little retinue to meet the
+Princess of Paphlagonia, whose coming had got abroad; but returned two
+days later with the news that the Princess was confined to her room,
+and would not arrive in the city till next year.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i089.jpg" width="343" height="397" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE CHIEF MAGICIAN.&quot;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[347]</span></p>
+
+<div class="i090">
+<img class="splitx" src="images/i09011.jpg" width="211" height="125" alt="" />
+<img class="splitxr" src="images/i09012.jpg" width="235" height="125" alt="" />
+<img class="splitx" src="images/i09021.jpg" width="070" height="104" alt="" />
+<img class="splitxr" src="images/i09022.jpg" width="081" height="104" alt="" />
+<img class="splitx" src="images/i09031.jpg" width="040" height="168" alt="" />
+<img class="splitxr" src="images/i09032.jpg" width="033" height="168" alt="" />
+<img class="splitx" src="images/i09041.jpg" width="092" height="200" alt="" />
+<img class="splitxr" src="images/i09042.jpg" width="159" height="200" alt="" />
+<img class="splitx" src="images/i09051.jpg" width="211" height="091" alt="" />
+<img class="splitxr" src="images/i09052.jpg" width="235" height="091" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>On the last day of the year the King summoned the three Princes to the
+Presence Chamber. And they came, the Green Prince, and the Blue
+Prince, and the Black Prince, and made obeisance to the Monarch, who
+sat in moir&eacute; antique robes, on the old gold throne, with his courtiers
+all around him.</p>
+
+<p>"My sons," he said, "ye are aware that, according to the immemorial
+laws of the realm, one of you is to be my heir, only I know not which
+of you he is; the difficulty is complicated by the fact that I have
+covenanted to espouse him to the Princess of Paphlagonia, of whose
+imminent arrival ye have heard. In this dilemma there are those who
+would set the sovereignty of the State upon the hazard of a die. But
+not by such undignified methods do
+I deem it prudent to extort the
+designs of the gods. There are ways alike more honourable to you and
+to
+
+me of ascertaining the intentions of the fates.
+And first, the wise
+men and the magicians recommend that ye be all three sent forth upon
+
+an arduous emprise. As all men know,<span class="pagenum">[348]</span> somewhere in the great seas that
+engirdle our dominion, somewhere beyond the Ultimate Thule, there
+rangeth a vast monster, intolerable, not to be borne. Every ninth moon
+this creature approacheth our coasts, deluging the land with an inky
+vomit. This plaguy Serpent cannot be slain, for the soothsayers aver
+it beareth a charmed life, but it were a mighty achievement, if for
+only one year, the realm could be relieved of its oppression. Are ye
+willing to set forth separately upon this knightly quest?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i091.jpg" width="286" height="352" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;THERE RANGETH A VAST MONSTER.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Then the three Princes made enthusiastic answer, entreating to be sped
+on the journey forthwith, and a great<span class="pagenum">[349]</span> gladness ran through the
+Presence Chamber, for all had suffered much from the annual incursions
+of the monster. And the King's heart was fain of the gallant spirit of
+the Princes.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis well," said he. "To-morrow, at the first dawn of the new year,
+shall ye fare forth together; when ye reach the river ye shall part,
+and for eight moons shall ye wander whither ye will; only, when the
+ninth moon rises, shall ye return and tell me how ye have fared.
+Hasten now, therefore, and equip yourselves as ye desire, and if there
+be aught that will help you in the task, ye have but to ask for it."</p>
+
+<p>Then, answering quickly before his brothers could speak, the Black
+Prince cried: "Sire, I would crave the magic boat which saileth under
+the sea and destroyeth mighty armaments."</p>
+
+<p>"It is thine," replied the King.</p>
+
+<p>Then the Green Prince said: "Sire, grant me the magic car which
+saileth through the air over the great seas."</p>
+
+<p>The Black Prince started and frowned, but the King answered, "It is
+granted." Then, turning to the Blue Prince, who seemed lost in
+meditation, the King said: "Why art thou silent, my son? Is there
+nothing I can give thee?"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, I will take a little pigeon," answered the Blue Prince
+abstractedly.</p>
+
+<p>The courtiers stared and giggled, and the Black Prince chuckled, but
+the Blue Prince was seemingly too proud to back out of his request.</p>
+
+<p>So at sunrise on the morrow the three Princes set forth, journeying
+together till they came to the river where they had agreed to part
+company. Here the magic boat was floating at anchor, while the magic
+car was tied to the trunk of a plane-tree upon the bank, and the
+little pigeon, fastened by a thread, was fluttering among the
+branches.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[350]</span></p>
+
+<p>Now, when the Green Prince saw the puny pigeon, he was like to die of
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>"Dost thou think to feed the Serpent with thy pigeon?" he sneered. "I
+fear me thou wilt not choke him off thus."</p>
+
+<p>"And what hast thou to laugh at?" retorted the Black Prince,
+interposing. "Dost thou think to find the Serpent of the Sea in the
+air?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is always in the air," murmured the Blue Prince, inaudibly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nay," said the Green Prince, scratching his head dubiously. "But thou
+didst so hastily annex the magic boat, I had to take the next best
+thing."</p>
+
+<p>"Dost thou accuse me of unfairness?" cried the Black Prince in a
+pained voice. "Sooner than thou shouldst say that, I would change with
+thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldst thou, indeed?" enquired the Green Prince eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, that would I," said the Black Prince indignantly. "Take the magic
+boat, and may the gods speed thee." So saying he jumped briskly into
+the magic car, cut the rope, and sailed aloft. Then, looking down
+contemptuously upon the Blue Prince, he shouted: "Come, mount thy
+pigeon, and be off in search of the monster."</p>
+
+<p>But the Blue Prince replied, "I will await you here."</p>
+
+<p>Then the Green Prince pushed off his boat, chuckling louder than ever.
+"Dost thou expect to keep the creature off our coasts by guarding the
+head of the river?" he scoffed.</p>
+
+<p>But the Blue Prince replied, "I will await you both here till the
+ninth moon."</p>
+
+<p>No sooner were his brothers gone than the Blue Prince set about
+building a hut. Here he lived happily, fishing his meals out of the
+river or snaring them out of the sky. The pigeon was never for a
+moment in danger of being eaten.<span class="pagenum">[351]</span> It was employed more agreeably to
+itself and its master in operations which will appear anon. Most of
+the time the Blue Prince lay on his back among the wild flowers,
+watching the river rippling to the sea or counting the passing of the
+eight moons, that alternately swelled and dwindled, now showing like
+the orb of the Black Prince's car, now like the Green Prince's boat.
+Sometimes he read scraps of papyrus, and his face shone.</p>
+
+<p>One lovely starry night, as the Blue Prince was watching the heavens,
+it seemed to him as if the eighth moon in dying had dropped out of the
+firmament and was falling upon him. But it was only the Black Prince
+come back. His garments were powdered with snow, his brows were
+knitted gloomily, he had a dejected, despondent aspect.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou here!" he snapped.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said the Blue Prince cheerfully, though he seemed a
+little embarrassed all the same. "Haven't I been here all the time?
+But go into my hut, I've kept supper hot for thee."</p>
+
+<p>"Has the Green Prince had his?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't seen anything of him. Hast thou scotched the Serpent?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't seen anything of him," growled the Black Prince. "I've
+passed backwards and forwards over the entire face of the ocean, but
+nowhere have I caught the slightest glimpse of him. What a fool I was
+to give up the magic boat! He never seems to come to the surface."</p>
+
+<p>All this while the Blue Prince was dragging his brother with
+suspicious solicitude towards the hut, where he sat him down to his
+own supper of ortolans and oysters. But the host had no sooner run
+outside again, on the pretext of seeing if the Green Prince was
+coming, than there was a disturbance and eddying in the stream as of a
+rally of<span class="pagenum">[352]</span> water-rats, and the magic boat shot up like a catapult, and
+the Green Prince stepped on deck all dry and dusty, and with the air
+of a draggled dragon-fly.</p>
+
+<div>
+<img class="split" src="images/i092a1.jpg" width="454" height="227" alt="" />
+<img class="split" src="images/i092a2.jpg" width="251" height="35" alt="" />
+<img class="split" src="images/i092a3.jpg" width="171" height="45" alt="" />
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i092b0.jpg" width="163" height="69" alt="" />
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i092b1.jpg" width="227" height="54" alt="" />
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i092b2.jpg" width="289" height="66" alt="" />
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i092b3.jpg" width="329" height="52" alt="" />
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i092b4.jpg" width="365" height="58" alt="" />
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i092b5.jpg" width="271" height="23" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p>"Good evening, hast thou er&mdash;scotched the Serpent?" stammered the Blue
+Prince, taken aback.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't even seen anything of him," growled the Green Prince.
+"I have skimmed along the entire surface of the ocean, and sailed
+every inch beneath it, but nowhere<span class="pagenum">[353]</span> have I caught the slightest
+glimpse of him. What a fool I was to give up the magic car! From a
+height I could have commanded an ampler area of ocean. Perhaps he was
+up the river."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't seen anything of him," replied the Blue Prince hastily.
+"But go into my hut, thy supper must be getting quite cold." He
+hurried his verdant brother into the hut, and gave him some chestnuts
+out of the oven (it was the best he could do for him), and then rushed
+outside again, on the plea of seeing if the Serpent was coming. But he
+seemed to expect him to come from the sky, for, leaning against the
+trunk of the plane-tree by the river, he resumed his anxious scrutiny
+of the constellations. Presently there was a gentle whirring in the
+air, and a white bird became visible, flying rapidly downwards in his
+direction. Almost at the same instant he felt himself pinioned by a
+rope to the tree-trunk, and saw the legs of the alighting pigeon
+neatly prisoned in the Black Prince's fist.</p>
+
+<p>"Aha!" croaked the Black Prince triumphantly. "Now we shall see
+through thy little schemes."</p>
+
+<p>He detached the slip of papyrus which dangled from the pigeon's neck.</p>
+
+<p>"How darest thou read my letters?" gasped the Blue Prince.</p>
+
+<p>"If I dare to rob the mail, I shall certainly not hesitate to read the
+letters," answered the Black Prince coolly, and went on to enunciate
+slowly (for the light was bad) the following lines:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Heart-sick I watch the old moon's ling'ring death,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And long upon my face to feel thy breath;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I burn to see its final flicker die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And greet our moon of honey in the sky."<br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum">[354]</span></div></div>
+
+<p>"What is all this moonshine?" he concluded in bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>Now the Blue Prince was the soul of candour, and seeing that nothing
+could now be lost by telling the truth, he answered:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"This is a letter from a damsel who resideth in the Tower of
+Telifonia, on the outskirts of the capital; we are engaged. No doubt
+the language seemeth to thee a little overdone, but wait till thy turn
+cometh."</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="split" src="images/i093.jpg" width="206" height="304" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption split">THE DAMSEL OF THE TOWER.</p>
+
+<p>"And so thou hast employed this pigeon as a carrier between thee and
+this suburban young person?" cried the Black Prince, feeling vaguely
+boiling over with rage.</p>
+
+<p>"Even so," answered his brother, "but guard thy tongue. The lady of
+whom thou speakest so disrespectfully is none other than the Princess
+of Paphlagonia."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh? What?" gasped the Black Prince.</p>
+
+<p>"She hath resided there since the twelfth moon of last year. The King
+received her the first time he set out to meet her."</p>
+
+<p>"Dost thou dare say the King hath spoken untruth?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay. The King is a wise man. Wise men never mean what they say.
+The King said she was confined to her room. It is true, for he had
+confined her in the Tower with her maidens for fear she should fall in
+love with the<span class="pagenum">[355]</span> wrong Prince, or the reverse, before the rightful heir
+was discovered. The King said she would not arrive in the city till
+next year. This also is true. As thou didst rightly observe, the Tower
+of Telifonia is situated in the suburbs. The King did not bargain for
+my discovering that a beautiful woman lived in its topmost turret."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, how couldst thou discover that? The King did not lend thee the
+magic car, and thou certainly couldst not see her at that height
+without the magic glass!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not seen her. But through the embrasure I often saw the
+sunlight flashing and leaping like a thing of life, and I knew it was
+what the children call a 'Johnny Noddy.' Now a 'Johnny Noddy' argueth
+a mirror, and a mirror argueth a woman, and frequent use thereof
+argueth a beautiful woman. So, when in the Presence Chamber the King
+told us of his dilemma as to the hand of the Princess of Paphlagonia,
+it instantly dawned upon me who the beautiful woman was, and why the
+King was keeping her hidden away, and why he had hidden away his
+meaning also. Wherefore straightway I asked for a pigeon, knowing that
+the pigeons of the town roost on the Tower of Telifonia, so that I had
+but to fly my bird at the end of a long string like a kite to
+establish communication between me and the fair captive. In time my
+little messenger grew so used to the journey to and fro that I could
+dispense with the string. Our courtship has been most satisfactory. We
+love each other ardently, and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"But you have never seen each other!" interrupted the Black Prince.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou forgettest we are both royal personages," said the Blue Prince
+in astonished reproof.</p>
+
+<p>"But this is gross treachery&mdash;what right hadst thou to make these
+underhand advances in our absence?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[356]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Thou forgettest I had to scotch the Serpent," said the Blue Prince in
+astonished reproof. "Thou forgettest also that she can only marry the
+heir to the throne."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, true!" said the Black Prince, considerably relieved. "And as thou
+hast chosen to fritter away the time in making love to her, thou hast
+taken the best way to lose her."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou forgettest I shall have to marry her," said the Blue Prince in
+astonished reproof. "Not only because I have given my word to a lady,
+but because I have promised the King to do my best to scotch the
+Serpent of the Sea. Really thou seemest terribly dull to-day. Let me
+put the matter in a nutshell. If he who scotches the Sea Serpent is to
+marry the Princess, then would I scotch the Sea Serpent by marrying
+the Princess, and marry the Princess to scotch the Sea Serpent. Thou
+hast searched the face of the sea, and our brother has dragged its
+depths, and nowhere have ye seen the Sea Serpent. Yet in the ninth
+moon he will surely come, and the land will be covered with an inky
+vomit as in former years. But if I marry the Princess of Paphlagonia
+in the ninth moon, the Royal Wedding will ward off the Sea Serpent,
+and not a scribe will shed ink to tell of his advent. Therefore,
+instead of ranging through the earth, I stayed at home and paid my
+addresses to the&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, what a fool I was!" interrupted the Black Prince, smiting
+his brow with his palm, so that the pigeon escaped from between his
+fingers, and winged its way back to the Tower of Telifonia as if to
+carry his words to the Princess.</p>
+
+<p>"Thou forgettest thou art a fool still," said the Blue Prince in
+astonished reproof. "Prithee, unbind me forthwith."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, I am a fool no longer, for it is I that shall wed the Princess
+of Paphlagonia and scotch the Sea Serpent, it is I<span class="pagenum">[357]</span> that have sent the
+pigeon to and fro, and unless thou makest me thine oath to be silent
+on the matter I will slay thee and cast thy body into the river."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou forgettest our brother, the Green Prince," said the Blue Prince
+in astonished reproof.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah! he hath eyes for naught but the odd ortolans and oysters I
+sacrificed that he might gorge himself withal, while I spied out thy
+secret. He shall be told that I returned to exchange my car for thy
+pigeon even as I exchanged my boat for his car. Come, thine oath or
+thou diest." And a jewelled scimitar shimmered in the starlight.</p>
+
+<p>
+<img class="splitr" src="images/i094.jpg" width="231" height="353" alt="" />
+</p>
+
+<p class="caption splitr">&quot;A JEWELLED CIMITAR SHIMMERED<br />IN THE STARLIGHT.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Blue Prince reflected that though life without love was hardly
+worth living, death was quite useless. So he swore and went in to
+supper. When he found that the Green Prince had not spared even a
+baked chestnut before he fell asleep, he swore again. And on the
+morrow when the Princes approached the Tower of Telifonia, with its
+flashing "Johnny Noddy," they met a courier from the King, who, having
+informed himself of the Black Prince's success, ran ahead with the
+rumour thereof. And lo! when the<span class="pagenum">[358]</span> Princes passed through the city gate
+they found the whole population abroad clad in all their bravery, and
+flags flying and bells ringing and roses showering from the balconies,
+and merry music swelling in all the streets for joy of the prospect of
+the Sea Serpent's absence. And when the new moon rose, the three
+Princes, escorted by flute-players, hied them to the Presence Chamber,
+and the King embraced his sons, and the Black Prince stood forward and
+explained that if a Prince were married in the ninth moon it would
+prevent the monster's annual visit. Then the King fell upon the Black
+Prince's neck and wept and said, "My son! my son! my pet! my baby! my
+tootsicums! my popsy-wopsy!"</p>
+
+<p>And then, recovering himself, and addressing the courtiers, he said:
+"The gods have enabled me to discover my youngest son. If they will
+only now continue as propitious, so that I may discover the elder of
+the other two, I shall die not all unhappy."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i095.jpg" width="326" height="419" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;THE GODS HAVE ENABLED ME TO DISCOVER MY YOUNGEST SON.&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But the Black Prince could repress his astonishment no longer. "Am I
+dreaming, sire?" he cried. "Surely I have proved myself the eldest,
+not the youngest!"</p>
+
+<p>"Thou forgettest that thou hast come off successful," replied the King
+in astonished reproof. "Or art thou so ignorant of history or of the
+sacred narratives handed down to us by our ancestors that thou art
+unaware that when three brothers set out on the same quest, it is
+always the youngest brother that emerges triumphant? Such is the will
+of the gods. Cease, therefore, thy blasphemous talk, lest they
+overhear thee and be put out."</p>
+
+<p>A low, ominous murmur from the courtiers emphasised the King's
+warning.</p>
+
+<p>"But the Princess&mdash;she at least is mine," protested the unhappy
+Prince. "We love each other&mdash;we are engaged."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou forgettest she can only marry the heir," replied<span class="pagenum">[359]</span> the King in
+astonished reproof. "Wouldst thou have us repudiate our solemn
+treaty?"</p>
+
+<p>"But I wasn't really the first to hit on the idea at all!" cried the
+Black Prince desperately. "Ask the Blue Prince! he never telleth
+untruth."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou forgettest I have taken an oath of silence on the matter,"
+replied the Blue Prince in astonished reproof. "The Black Prince it
+was that first hit on the idea," volunteered<span class="pagenum">[360]</span> the Green Prince. "He
+exchanged his boat for the car and the car for the pigeon."</p>
+
+<p>So the three Princes were dismissed, while the King took counsel with
+the magicians and the wise men who never mean what they say. And the
+Court Chamberlain, wearing the orchid of office in his buttonhole, was
+sent to interview the Princess, and returned saying that she refused
+to marry any one but the proprietor of the pigeon, and that she still
+had his letters as evidence in case of his marrying anyone else.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" said the King, "she shall obey the treaty. Six feet of
+parchment are not to be put aside for the whim of a girl five foot
+eight. The only real difficulty remaining is to decide whether the
+Blue Prince or the Green Prince is the elder. Let me see&mdash;what was it
+the Oracle said? Perhaps it will be clearer now:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="h4">
+"'The eldest is he that the Princess shall wed.'
+</p>
+
+<p>"No, it still seems merely to avoid stating anything new."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, sire," replied the Chief Magician; "it seems perfectly
+plain now. Obviously, thou art to let the Princess choose her husband,
+and the Oracle guarantees that, other things being equal, she shall
+select the eldest. If thou hadst let her have the pick from among the
+three, she would have selected the one with whom she was in love&mdash;the
+Black Prince to wit, and that would have interfered with the Oracle's
+arrangements. But now that we know with whom she is in love, we can
+remove that one, and then, there being no reason why she should choose
+the Green Prince rather than the Blue Prince, the deities of the realm
+undertake to inspire her to go by age only."</p>
+
+<p>"Thou hast spoken well," said the King. "Let the<span class="pagenum">[361]</span> Princess of
+Paphlagonia be brought, and let the two Princes return."</p>
+
+<p>So after a space the beautiful Princess, preceded by trumpeters, was
+conducted to the Palace, blinking her eyes at the unaccustomed
+splendour of the lights. And the King and all the courtiers blinked
+their eyes, dazzled by her loveliness. She was clad in white samite,
+and on her shoulder was perched a pet pigeon. The King sat in his
+moir&eacute; robes on the old gold throne, and the Blue Prince stood on his
+right hand, and the Green Prince on his left, the Black Prince as the
+youngest having been sent to bed early. The Princess courtesied three
+times, the third time so low that the pigeon was flustered, and flew
+off her shoulder, and, after circling about, alighted on the head of
+the Blue Prince.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i096.jpg" width="436" height="688" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;THE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS, PRECEDED BY TRUMPETERS, WAS CONDUCTED TO THE PALACE.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>"It is the Crown," said the Chief Magician, in an awestruck voice.
+Then the Princess's eyes looked around in search of the pigeon, and
+when they lighted on the Prince's head they kindled as the grey sea
+kindles at sunrise.</p>
+
+<p>An answering radiance shone in the Blue Prince's eyes, as, taking the
+pigeon that nestled in his hair, he let it fly towards the Princess.
+But the Princess, her bosom heaving as if another pigeon fluttered
+beneath the white samite, caught it and set it free again, and again
+it made for the Blue Prince.</p>
+
+<p>Three times the bird sped to and fro. Then the Princess raised her
+humid eyes heavenward, and from her sweet lips rippled like music the
+verse:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="h4">
+"Last night I watched its final flicker die."
+</p>
+
+<p>And the Blue Prince answered:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="h4">
+"<i>Now</i> greet our moon of honey in the sky."
+<span class="pagenum">[362]</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[363]</span></p>
+
+<p>Half fainting with rapture the Princess fell into his arms, and from
+all sides of the great hall arose the cries, "The Heir! The Heir! Long
+live our future King! The eldest-born! The Oracle's fulfilled!"</p>
+
+<p>Such was the origin of lawn tennis, which began with people tossing
+pigeons to each other in imitation of the Prince and Princess in the
+Palace Hall. And this is why love plays so great a part in the game,
+and that is how the match was arranged between the Blue Prince and the
+Princess of Paphlagonia.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[364]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="A_Successful_Operation"><i>A Successful Operation.</i></h2>
+
+<p>Robert came home, anxious and perturbed. For the first time since his
+return from their honeymoon he crossed the threshold of the tiny house
+without a grateful sense of blessedness.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Robert?" panted Mary, her sweet lips cold from his
+perfunctory kiss.</p>
+
+<p>"He is going blind," he said in low tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Not your father!" she murmured, dazed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my father! I thought it was nothing, or rather I scarcely
+thought about it at all. The doctor at the Eye Hospital merely asked
+him to bring some one with him next time; naturally he came to me."
+There was a touch of bitterness about the final phrase.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how terrible!" said Mary. Her pretty face looked almost wan.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see that you're called upon to distress yourself so much,
+dear," said Robert, a little resentfully. "He hasn't even been a
+friend to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Robert! how can you think of all that now? If he did try to keep
+you from marrying a penniless, friendless girl, if he did force you to
+work long years for me, was it not all for the best? Now that his
+fortune has been swept away, where would you be without money or
+occupation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where would Providence be without its women-defenders?" murmured
+Robert. "You don't understand finance,<span class="pagenum">[365]</span> dear. He might easily have
+provided for me long before the crash came."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, Robert. Are we not all the happier for having waited for
+each other?" And in the spiritual ecstasy of her glance he forgot for
+a while his latest trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Robert's father lived in a little room on a small allowance made him
+by his outcast son. Broken by age and misfortune, he pottered about
+chess-rooms and debating forums, garrulous and dogmatic, and given to
+tippling. But now the consciousness of his coming infirmity crushed
+him, and he sat for days on his bed brooding, waiting in terror for
+the darkness, and glad when day after day ended only in the shadows of
+eve. Sometimes, instead of the dreaded darkness, sunlight came. That
+was when Mary dropped in to cheer him up, and to repeat to him that
+the hospital took a most hopeful view of his case, was only waiting
+for the darkness to be thickest to bring back the dawn. It took four
+months before the light faded utterly, and then another month before
+the film was opaque enough to allow the cataract to be couched. The
+old man was to go into the hospital for the operation. Robert hired a
+lad to be with him during the month of waiting, and sometimes sat with
+him in the evenings, after business, and now and then the landlady
+looked in and told him her troubles, and the attendant was faithful
+and went out frequently to buy him gin. But it was only Mary who could
+really soothe him now, for the poor old creature's soul groped blindly
+amid new apprehensions&mdash;a nervous dread of the chloroforming, the
+puncturing, the strange sounds of voices of the great blank hospital,
+where he felt confusedly he would be lost in an ocean of unfathomable
+night, incapable even of divining, from past experience, the walls
+about him or the ceiling over his head, and withal a paralysing
+foreboding that the operation would<span class="pagenum">[366]</span> be a failure, that he would live
+out the rest of his days with the earth prematurely over his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very glad to see you, my dear," he would say when Mary came, and
+then he fell a-maundering self-pitifully.</p>
+
+<p>Mary went home one day and said, "Robert, dear, I have been thinking."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my pet," he said encouragingly, for she looked timid and
+hesitant.</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't we have the operation performed here?"</p>
+
+<p>He was startled; protested, pointed out the impossibility. But she had
+answers for all his objections. They could give up their own bedroom
+for a fortnight&mdash;it would only be a fortnight or three weeks at
+most&mdash;turn their sitting-room into a bedroom for themselves. What if
+infinite care would be necessary in regulating the "dark room," surely
+they could be as careful as the indifferent hospital nurses if they
+were only told what to do, and as for the trouble, that wasn't worth
+considering.</p>
+
+<p>"But you forget, my foolish little girl," he said at last, "if he
+comes here we shall have to pay the expenses of the operation
+ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, would that be much?" she asked innocently.</p>
+
+<p>"Only fifty guineas or so, I should think," he replied crushingly.
+"What with the operating fee, and the nurse, and the subsequent
+medical attendance."</p>
+
+<p>But Mary was not altogether crushed. "It wouldn't be all our savings,"
+she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you forgetting what we shall be needing our savings for?" he said
+with gentle reproach, as he stroked her soft hair.</p>
+
+<p>She blushed angelically. "No, but surely there will be enough left
+and&mdash;and I shall be making all his things<span class="pagenum">[367]</span> myself&mdash;and by that time we
+shall have put by a little more."</p>
+
+<p>In the end she conquered. The old man, to whom no faintest glimmer now
+penetrated, was installed in the best bedroom, which was darkened by
+double blinds and strips of cloth over every chink and a screen before
+the door; and a nurse sat on guard lest any ray or twinkle should find
+its way into the pitchy gloom. The great specialist came with two
+assistants, and departed in an odour of chloroform, conscious of
+another dexterous deed, to return only when the critical moment of
+raising the bandage should have arrived. During the fortnight of
+suspense an assistant replaced him, and the old man lay quiet and
+hopeful, rousing himself to talk dogmatically to his visitors. Mary
+gave him such time as she could spare from household duties, and he
+always kissed her on the forehead (so that his bandage just grazed her
+hair), remarking he was very glad to see her. It was a strange
+experience, these conversations carried on in absolute darkness, and
+they gave her a feeling of kinship with the blind. She discovered that
+smiles were futile, and that laughter alone availed in this uncanny
+intercourse. For compensation, her face could wear an anxious
+expression without alarming the patient. But it rarely did, for her
+spirits mounted with his. Before the operation she had been terribly
+anxious, wondering at the last moment if it would not have been
+performed more safely at the hospital, and ready to take upon her
+shoulders the responsibility for a failure. But as day after day went
+by, and all seemed going well, her thoughts veered round. She felt
+sure they would not have been so careful at the hospital. It was owing
+to this new confidence that one fatal night, carrying her candle, she
+walked mechanically into her bedroom, forgetting it was not hers. The
+nurse sprang up instantly,<span class="pagenum">[368]</span> rushed forward, and blew out the light.
+Mary screamed, the screen fell with a clatter, the blind old man awoke
+and shrieked nervously&mdash;it was a terrible moment.</p>
+
+<p>After that Mary went through agonies of apprehension and remorse.
+Fortunately the end of the operation was very near now. In a day or
+two the great specialist came to remove the bandage, while the nurse
+carefully admitted a feeble illumination. If the patient could see
+now, the rest was a mere matter of time, of cautious gradation of
+light in the sick chamber, so that there might be no relapse. Mary
+dared not remain in the room at the instant of supreme crisis; she
+lingered outside, overwrought. Slowly, with infinite solicitude, the
+bandage was raised.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you see anything?" burst from Robert's lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but what makes the window look red?" grumbled the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"I congratulate you," said the great specialist in loud, hearty
+accents.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" sobbed Mary's voice outside.</p>
+
+<p>When her child was born it was blind.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[369]</span></p>
+
+<h2 id="Flutter-Duck"><i>Flutter-Duck.</i></h2>
+
+<p class="h3"><i>A GHETTO GROTESQUE.</i></p>
+
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">FLUTTER-DUCK IN FEATHER.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"So sitting, served by man and maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She felt her heart grow prouder."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>: <i>The Goose</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Although everybody calls her "Flutter-Duck" now, there was a time when
+the inventor had exclusive rights in the nickname, and used it only in
+the privacy of his own apartment. That time did not last long, for the
+inventor was Flutter-Duck's husband, and his apartment was a public
+work-room among other things. He gave her the name in
+Yiddish&mdash;<i>Flatterkatchki</i>&mdash;a descriptive music in syllables, full of
+the flutter and quack of the farm-yard. It expressed his
+dissatisfaction with her airy, flighty propensities, her love of
+gaiety and gadding. She was a butterfly, irresponsible, off to balls
+and parties almost once a month, and he, a self-conscious ant,
+resented her. From the point of view of piety she was also sadly to
+seek, rejecting wigs in favour of the fringe. In the weak moments of
+early love her husband had acquiesced in the profanity, but later all
+the gain to her soft prettiness did not compensate for the twinges of
+his conscience.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[370]</span></p>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck's husband was a furrier&mdash;a master-furrier, for did he not
+run a workshop? This workshop was also his living-room, and this
+living-room was also his bedroom. It was a large front room on the
+first floor, over a chandler's shop in an old-fashioned house in
+Montague Street, Whitechapel. Its shape was peculiar&mdash;an oblong
+stretching streetwards, interrupted in one of the longer walls by a
+square projection that might have been accounted a room in itself (by
+the landlord), and was, indeed, used as a kitchen. That the fireplace
+had been built in this corner was thus an advantage. Entering through
+the door on the grand staircase, you found yourself nearest the window
+with the bulk of the room on your left, and the square recess at the
+other end of your wall, so that you could not see it at first. At the
+window, which, of course, gave on Montague Street, was the bare wooden
+table at which the "hands"&mdash;man, woman, and boy&mdash;sat and stitched. The
+finished work&mdash;a confusion of fur caps, boas, tippets, and
+trimmings&mdash;hung over the dirty wainscot between the door and the
+recess. The middle of the room was quite bare, to give the workers
+freedom of movement, but the wall facing you was a background for
+luxurious furniture. First&mdash;nearest the window&mdash;came a sofa, on which
+even in the first years of marriage Flutter-Duck's husband sometimes
+lay prone, too unwell to do more than superintend the operations, for
+he was of a consumptive habit. Over the sofa hung a large gilt-framed
+mirror, the gilt protected by muslin drapings, in the corners of which
+flyblown paper flowers grew. Next to the sofa was a high chest of
+drawers crowned with dusty decanters, and after an interval filled up
+with the Sabbath clothes hanging on pegs and covered by a white sheet;
+the bed used up the rest of the space, its head and one side touching
+the walls, and its foot stretching towards the kitchen fire. On<span class="pagenum">[371]</span> the
+wall above this fire hung another mirror,&mdash;small and narrow, and full
+of wavering, watery reflections,&mdash;also framed in muslin, though this
+time the muslin served to conceal dirt, not to protect gilt. The
+kitchen-dresser, decorated with pink needle-work paper, was at right
+angles to the fireplace, and it faced the kitchen table, at which
+Flutter-Duck cleaned fish, peeled potatoes, and made meat <i>kosher</i> by
+salting and soaking it, as Rabbinic law demanded.</p>
+
+<p>By the foot of the bed, in the narrow wall opposite the window, was a
+door leading to a tiny inner room. For years this door remained
+locked; another family lived on the other side, and the furrier had
+neither the means nor the need for an extra bedroom. It was a room
+made for escapades and romances, connected with the back-yard by a
+steep ladder, up and down which the family might be seen going, and
+from which you could tumble into a broken-headed water-butt, or, by a
+dexterous back-fall, arrive in a dustbin. Jacob's ladder the
+neighbours called it, though the family name was Isaacs.</p>
+
+<p>And over everything was the trail of the fur. The air was full of a
+fine fluff&mdash;a million little hairs floated about the room covering
+everything, insinuating themselves everywhere, getting down the backs
+of the workers and tickling them, getting into their lungs and making
+them cough, getting into their food and drink and sickening them till
+they learnt callousness. They awoke with "furred" tongues, and they
+went to bed with them. The irritating filaments gathered on their
+clothes, on their faces, on the crockery, on the sofa, on the mirrors
+(big and little), on the bed, on the decanters, on the sheet that hid
+the Sabbath clothes&mdash;an impalpable down overlaying everything,
+penetrating even to the drinking-water in the board-covered zinc
+bucket, and<span class="pagenum">[372]</span> covering "Rebbitzin," the household cat, with foreign
+fur. And in this room, drawing such breath of life, they sat&mdash;man,
+woman, boy&mdash;bending over boas bewitching young ladies would skate in;
+stitch, stitch, from eight till two and from three to eight, with
+occasional overtime that ran on now and again far into the next day;
+till their eyelids would not keep open any longer, and they couched on
+the floor on a heap of finished work; stitch, stitch, winter and
+summer, all day long, swallowing hirsute bread and butter at nine in
+the morning, and pausing at tea-time for five o'clock fur. And when
+twilight fell the gas was lit in the crowded room, thickening still
+further the clogged atmosphere, charged with human breaths and street
+odours, and wafts from the kitchen corner and the leathery smell of
+the dyed skins; and at times the yellow fog would steal in to
+contribute its clammy vapours. And often of a winter's morning the fog
+arrived early, and the gas that had lighted the first hours of work
+would burn on all day in the thick air, flaring on the Oriental
+figures with that strange glamour of gas-light in fog, and throwing
+heavy shadows on the bare boards; glazing with satin sheen the pendent
+snakes of fur, illuming the bowed heads of the workers and the
+master's sickly face under the tasselled smoking-cap, and touching up
+the faded fineries of Flutter-Duck, as she flitted about, chattering
+and cooking.</p>
+
+<p>Into such an atmosphere Flutter-Duck one day introduced a daughter,
+the "hands" getting an afternoon off, in honour not of the occasion
+but of decency. After that the crying of an infant became a feature of
+existence in the furrier's workshop; gradually it got rarer, as little
+Rachel grew up and reconciled herself to life. But the fountain of
+tears never quite ran dry. Rachel was a passionate child, and did not
+enjoy the best of parents.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[373]</span></p>
+
+<p>Every morning Flutter-Duck, who felt very grateful to Heaven for this
+crowning boon,&mdash;at one time bitterly dubious,&mdash;made the child say her
+prayers. Flutter-Duck said them word by word, and Rachel repeated
+them. They were in Hebrew, and neither Flutter-Duck nor Rachel had the
+least idea what they meant. For years these prayers preluded stormy
+scenes.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni!</i>" Flutter-Duck would begin.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni!</i>" little Rachel would lisp in her piping voice. It was two
+words, but Flutter-Duck imagined it was one. She gave the syllables in
+recitative, the <i>&acirc;ni</i> just two notes higher than the <i>m&eacute;di</i>, and she
+accented them quite wrongly. When Rachel first grew articulate,
+Flutter-Duck was so overjoyed to hear the little girl echoing her,
+that she would often turn to her husband with an exclamation of "Thou
+hearest, Lewis, love?"</p>
+
+<p>And he, impatiently: "Nee, nee, I hear."</p>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck, thus recalled from the pleasures of maternity to its
+duties, would recommence the prayer. "<i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Which little Rachel would silently ignore.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni!</i>" Flutter-Duck's tone would now be imperative and
+ill-tempered.</p>
+
+<p>Then little Rachel would turn to her father querulously. "She thayth
+it again, <i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni</i>, father!"</p>
+
+<p>And Flutter-Duck, outraged by this childish insolence, would exclaim,
+"Thou hearest, Lewis, love?" and incontinently fall to clouting the
+child. And the father, annoyed by the shrill ululation consequent upon
+the clouting: "Nee, nee, I hear too much." Rachel's refusal to be
+coerced into giving devotional over-measure was not merely due to her
+sense of equity. Her appetite counted for more. Prayers were the
+avenue to breakfast, and to pamper her featherheaded<span class="pagenum">[374]</span> mother in
+repetitions was to put back the meal. Flutter-Duck was quite capable
+of breaking down, even in the middle, if her attention was distracted
+for a moment, and of trying back from the very beginning. She would,
+for example, get as far as "Hear&mdash;my daughter&mdash;the instruction&mdash;of thy
+mother," giving out the words one by one in the sacred language which
+was to her abracadabra.</p>
+
+<p>And little Rachel, equally in the dark, would repeat obediently,
+"Hear&mdash;my daughter&mdash;the instruction of&mdash;thy mother." Then the kettle
+would boil, or Flutter-Duck would overhear a remark made by one of the
+"hands," and interject: "Yes, I'd <i>give</i> him!" or, "A fat lot <i>she</i>
+knows about it," or some phrase of that sort; after which she would
+grope for the lost thread of prayer, and end by ejaculating
+desperately:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>And the child sternly setting her face against this flippancy, there
+would be slapping and screaming, and if the father protested,
+Flutter-Duck would toss her head, and rejoin in her most dignified
+English: "If I bin a mother, I bin a mother!"</p>
+
+<p>To the logical adult it will be obvious that the little girl's
+obstinacy put the breakfast still further back; but then, obstinate
+little girls are not logical, and when Rachel had been beaten she
+would eat no breakfast at all. She sat sullenly in the corner, her
+pretty face swollen by weeping, and her great black eyes suffused with
+tears. Only her father could coax her then. He would go so far as to
+allow her to nurse "Rebbitzin," without reminding her that the
+creature's touch would make her forget all she knew, and convert her
+into a "cat's-head." And certainly Rachel always forgot not to touch
+the cat. Possibly the basis of her father's psychological superstition
+was the fact that the cat is an<span class="pagenum">[375]</span> unclean animal, not to be handled,
+for he would not touch puss himself, though her pious title of
+"Rebbitzin," or Rabbi's wife, was the invention of this master of
+nicknames. But for such flashes no one would have suspected the stern
+little man of humour. But he had it&mdash;dry. He called the cat
+"Rebbitzin" ever since the day she refused to drink milk after meat.
+Perhaps she was gorged with the meat. But he insisted that the cat had
+caught religion through living in a Jewish family, and he developed a
+theory that she would not eat meat till it was <i>kosher</i>, so that in
+its earlier stages it might be exposed without risk of feline larceny.</p>
+
+<p>Cats are soothing to infants, but they ceased to satisfy Rachel when
+she grew up. Her education, while it gratified Her Majesty's
+Inspectors, was not calculated to eradicate the domestic rebel in her.
+At school she learnt of the existence of two Hebrew words, called
+<i>Moudeh an&icirc;</i>, but it was not till some time after that it flashed upon
+her that they were closely related to <i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni</i>, and the discovery did
+not improve her opinion of her mother. She was a bonny child, who
+promised to be a beautiful girl, and her teachers petted her. They
+dressed well, these teachers, and Rachel ceased to consider
+Flutter-Duck's Sabbath shawl the standard of taste and splendour. Ere
+she was in her teens she grumbled at her home surroundings, and even
+fell foul of the all-pervading fur, thereby quarrelling with her bread
+and butter in more senses than one. She would open the
+window&mdash;strangely fastidious&mdash;to eat her bread and butter off the
+broad ledge outside the room, but often the fur only came flying the
+faster to the spot, as if in search of air; and in the winter her
+pretentious queasiness set everybody remonstrating and shivering in
+the sudden draught.</p>
+
+<p>Her objection to fur did not, however, embrace the preparation<span class="pagenum">[376]</span> of it,
+for after school hours the little girl sat patiently stitching till
+late at night, by way of apprenticeship to her future, buoyed up by
+her earnings, and adding strip to strip, with the hair going all the
+same way, till she had made a great black snake. Of course she did not
+get anything near three-halfpence for twelve yards, like the real
+"hands," but whatever she earnt went towards her Festival frocks,
+which she would have got in any case. Not knowing this, she was happy
+to deserve the pretty dresses she loved, and was least impatient of
+her mother's chatter when Flutter-Duck dinned into her ears how pretty
+she looked in them. Alas! it is to be feared Lewis was right, that
+Flutter-Duck was a rattle-brain indeed. And the years which brought
+Flutter-Duck prosperity, which emancipated her from personal
+participation in the sewing, and gave Rachel the little bedroom to
+herself, did not bring wisdom. When Flutter-Duck's felicity culminated
+in a maid-servant (if only one who slept out), she was like a child
+with a monkey-on-a-stick. She gave the servant orders merely to see
+her arms and legs moving. She also lay late in bed to enjoy the
+spectacle of the factotum making the nine o'clock coffee it had been
+for so many years her own duty to prepare for the "hands." How sweetly
+the waft of chicory came to her nostrils! At first her husband
+remonstrated.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not beautiful," he said. "You ought to get up before the
+'hands' come."</p>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck flushed resentfully. "If I bin a missis, I bin a missis,"
+she said with dignity. It became one of her formul&aelig;. When the servant
+developed insolence, as under Flutter-Duck's fostering familiarity she
+did, Flutter-Duck would resume her dignity with a jerk.</p>
+
+<p>"If I bin a missis," she would say, tossing her flighty head
+haughtily, "I bin a missis."</p><p><span class="pagenum">[377]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">A MIGRATORY BIRD.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There strode a stranger to the door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And it was windy weather."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>: <i>The Goose</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>One day, when Rachel was nineteen, there came to the workshop a
+handsome young man. He had been brought by a placard in the window of
+the chandler's shop, and was found to answer perfectly to its wants.
+He took his place at the work-table, and soon came to the front as a
+wage-earner, wielding a dexterous needle that rarely snapped, even in
+white fur. His name was Emanuel Lefkovitch, and his seat was next to
+Rachel's. For Rachel had long since entered into her career, and the
+beauty of her early-blossoming womanhood was bent day after day over
+strips of rabbit-skin, which she made into sealskin jackets. For
+compensation to her youth Rachel walked out on the Sabbath elegantly
+attired in the latest fashion. She ordered her own frocks now, having
+a banking account of her own, in a tin box that was hidden away in her
+little bedroom. Her father honourably paid her a wage as large as she
+would have got elsewhere&mdash;otherwise she would have gone there. Her
+Sabbath walks extended as far as Hyde Park, and she loved to watch the
+fine ladies cantering in the Row, or lolling in luxurious carriages.
+Sometimes she even peeped into fashionable restaurants. She became the
+admiring disciple of a girl who worked at a Jewish furrier's in Regent
+Street, and whose occidental habitat gave her a halo of aristocracy.
+Even on Friday nights Rachel would disappear from the sacred
+domesticity of the Sabbath hearth, and<span class="pagenum">[378]</span> Flutter-Duck suspected that
+she went to the Cambridge Music Hall in Spitalfields. This led to
+dramatic scenes, for Rachel's frowardness had not decreased with age.
+If she had only gone out with some accredited young man, Flutter-Duck
+could have borne the scandal in view of the joyous prospect of
+becoming a grandmother. But no! Rachel tolerated no matrimonial
+advances, not even from the most seductive of <i>Shadchanim</i>, though her
+voluptuous figure and rosy lips marked her out for the
+marriage-broker's eye. Her father had grown sterner with the growth of
+his malady, and though at the bottom of his heart he loved and was
+proud of his beautiful Rachel, the words that rose to his lips were
+often as harsh and bitter as Flutter-Duck's own, so that the girl
+would withdraw sullenly into herself and hold no converse with her
+parents for days.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, there were plenty of halcyon intervals, especially in
+the busy season, when the extra shillings made the whole work-room
+brisk and happy, and the furriers gossiped of this and that, and told
+stories more droll than decorous. And then, too, every day was a
+delightfully inevitable sweep towards the Sabbath, and every Sabbath
+was a spoke in the great revolving wheel that brought round to them
+picturesque Festivals, or solemn Fasts, scarcely less enjoyable. And
+so there was an undercurrent of poetry below the sordid prose of daily
+life, and rifts in the grey fog, through which they caught glimpses of
+the azure vastness overarching the world. And the advent of Emanuel
+Lefkovitch distinctly lightened the atmosphere. His handsome face, his
+gay spirits, were like an influx of ozone. Rachel was perceptibly the
+brighter for his presence. She was gentler to everybody, even to her
+parents, and chatted vivaciously, and walked with an airier step! The
+sickly master-furrier's face lit up with pleasure as from his sofa he<span class="pagenum">[379]</span>
+watched Emanuel's assiduous attentions to his girl in the way of
+picking up scissors and threading needles, and he frowned when
+Flutter-Duck hovered about the young man, chattering and monopolising
+his conversation.</p>
+
+<p>But one fine morning, some months after Emanuel's arrival, a change
+came over the spirit of the scene. There was a knock at the door, and
+an ugly, shabby woman, in a green tartan shawl, entered. She
+scrutinised the room sharply, then uttered a joyful cry of "Emanuel,
+my love!" and threw herself upon the handsome young man with an
+affectionate embrace. Emanuel, flushed and paralysed, was a ludicrous
+figure, and the workers tittered, not unfamiliar with marital
+<i>contretemps</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me be," he said sullenly at last, as he untwined her dogged arms.
+"I tell you I won't have anything to do with you. It's no use."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, Emanuel, love, don't say that; not after all these months?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go away!" cried Emanuel hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>"Be not so obstinate," she persisted, in wheedling accents, stroking
+his flaming cheeks. "Kiss little Joshua and little Miriam."</p>
+
+<p>Here the spectators became aware of two woebegone infants dragging at
+her skirts.</p>
+
+<p>"Go away!" repeated Emanuel passionately, and pushed her from him with
+violence.</p>
+
+<p>The ugly, shabby woman burst into hysterical tears.</p>
+
+<p>"My own husband, dear people," she sobbed, addressing the room. "My
+own husband&mdash;married to me in Poland five years ago. See, I have the
+<i>Cesubah</i>!" She half drew the marriage parchment from her bosom. "And
+he won't live with me! Every time he runs away from me. Last time I
+saw him was in Liverpool, on the eve of Tabernacles.<span class="pagenum">[380]</span> And before that
+I had to go and find him in Newcastle, and he promised me never to go
+away again&mdash;yes, you did, you know you did, Emanuel, love. And here
+have I been looking weeks for you at all the furriers and tailors,
+without bread and salt for the children, and the Board of Guardians
+won't believe me, and blame me for coming to London. Oh, Emanuel,
+love, God shall forgive you."</p>
+
+<p>Her dress was dishevelled, her wig awry; big tears streamed down her
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"How can I live with an old witch like that?" asked Emanuel, in brutal
+self-defence.</p>
+
+<p>"There are worse than me in the world," rejoined the woman meekly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nee, nee," roughly interposed the master-furrier, who had risen from
+his sofa in the excitement of the scene. "It is not beautiful not to
+live with one's wife." He paused to cough. "You must not put her to
+shame."</p>
+
+<p>"It's she who puts me to shame." Emanuel turned to Rachel, who had let
+her work slip to the floor, and whose face had grown white and stern,
+and continued deprecatingly, "I never wanted her. They caught me by a
+trick."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk to me," snapped Rachel, turning her back on him.</p>
+
+<p>The woman looked at her suspiciously&mdash;the girl's beauty seemed to
+burst upon her for the first time. "He is my husband," she repeated,
+and made as if she would draw out the <i>Cesubah</i> again.</p>
+
+<p>"Nee, nee, enough!" said the master-furrier curtly. "You are wasting
+our time. Your husband shall live with you, or he shall not work with
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"You have deceived us, you rogue!" put in Flutter-Duck shrilly.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[381]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Did I ever say I was a single man?" retorted Emanuel, shrugging his
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"There! He confesses it!" cried his wife in glee. "Come, Emanuel,
+love," and she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him
+passionately. "Do not be obstinate."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't come now," he said, with sulky facetiousness. "Where are you
+living?"</p>
+
+<p>She told him, and he said he would come when work was over.</p>
+
+<p>"On your faith?" she asked, with another uneasy glance at Rachel.</p>
+
+<p>"On my faith," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>She moved towards the door, with her draggle-tail of infants. As she
+was vanishing, he called shame-facedly to the departing children,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Joshua! Well, Miriam! Is this the way one treats a father? A
+nice way your mother has brought you up!"</p>
+
+<p>They came back to him dubiously, with unwashed, pathetic faces, and he
+kissed them. Rachel bent down to pick up her rabbit-skin. Work was
+resumed in dead silence.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">FLIGHT.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The goose flew this way and flew that,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And filled the house with clamour."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>: <i>The Goose</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck could not resist rushing in to show the gorgeous goose
+she had bought from a man in the street&mdash;a most wonderful bargain.
+Although it was only a Wednesday,<span class="pagenum">[382]</span> why should they not have a goose?
+They were at the thick of the busy season, and the winter promised to
+be bitter, so they could afford it.</p>
+
+<p>"Nee, nee; there are enough Festivals in our religion already,"
+grumbled her husband, who, despite his hacking cough, had been driven
+to the work-table by the plentifulness of work and the scarcity of
+"hands."</p>
+
+<p>"Almost as big a goose as herself!" whispered Emanuel Lefkovitch to
+his circle. He had made his peace with his wife, and was again become
+the centre of the work-room's gaiety. "What a bargain!" he said aloud,
+clucking his tongue with admiration. And Flutter-Duck, consoled for
+her husband's criticism, scurried out again to have her bargain killed
+by the official slaughterer.</p>
+
+<p>When she returned, doleful and indignant, with the goose still in her
+basket, and the news that the functionary had refused it Jewish
+execution, and pronounced it <i>tripha</i> (unclean) for some minute ritual
+reason, she broke off her denunciation of the vendor from a sudden
+perception that some graver misfortune had happened in her absence.</p>
+
+<p>"Nee, nee," said Lewis, when she stopped her chatter. "Decidedly God
+will not have us make Festival to-day. Even you must work."</p>
+
+<p>"Me?" gasped Flutter-Duck.</p>
+
+<p>Then she learnt that Emanuel Lefkovitch, whom she had left so gay, had
+been taken with acute pains&mdash;and had had to go home. And work pressed,
+and Flutter-Duck must under-study him in all her spare moments. She
+was terribly vexed&mdash;she had arranged to go and see an old crony's
+daughter married in the Synagogue that afternoon, and she would have
+to give that up, if indeed her husband did not even expect her to give
+up the ball in the evening. She temporarily tethered the goose's leg
+to a bed-post by a long<span class="pagenum">[383]</span> string, so that for the rest of the day the
+big bird waddled pompously about the floor and under the bed,
+unconscious to what or whom it owed its life, and blissfully unaware
+that it was <i>tripha</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Nee, nee," sniggered Lewis, as Flutter-Duck savagely kicked the cat
+out of her way. "Don't be alarmed, Rebbitzin won't attack it.
+Rebbitzin is a better judge of <i>triphas</i> than you."</p>
+
+<p>It was another cat, but it was the same joke.</p>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck began to clean the fish with intensified viciousness. She
+had bought them as a substitute for the goose, and they were a
+constant reminder of her complex illhap. Very soon she cut her finger,
+and scoured the walls vainly in search of cobweb ligature. Bitter was
+her plaint of the servant's mismanagement; when she herself had looked
+after the house there had been no lack of cobwebs in the corners. Nor
+was this the end of Flutter-Duck's misfortunes. When, in the course of
+the afternoon, she sent up to Mrs. Levy on the second floor to remind
+her that she would be wanting her embroidered petticoat for the
+evening, answer came back that it was the anniversary of Mrs. Levy's
+mother's death, and she could not permit even her petticoat to go to a
+wedding. Finally, the gloves that Flutter-Duck borrowed from the
+chandler's wife were split at the thumbs. And so the servant was kept
+running to and fro, spoiling the neighbours for the greater glory of
+Flutter-Duck. It was only at the eleventh hour that an embroidered
+petticoat was obtained.</p>
+
+<p>Altogether there was electricity in the air, and Emanuel was not
+present to divert it down the road of jocularity. The furriers stitched
+sullenly, with a presentiment of storm. But it held over all day, and
+there was hope the currents would pass harmlessly away.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[384]</span></p>
+
+<p>With the rising of Flutter-Duck from the work-table, however, the
+first rumblings began. Lewis did not attempt to restrain her from her
+society dissipation, but he fumed inwardly throughout her toilette.
+More than ever he realised, as he sat coughing and bending over the
+ermine he was tufting with black spots, the incompatibility of this
+union between ant and butterfly, and occasionally his thought would
+shoot out in dry sarcasm. But Flutter-Duck had passed beyond the plane
+in which Lewis existed as her husband. All day she had talked freely,
+if a whit condescendingly, to her fellow-furriers, lamenting the
+mischances of the day; but in proportion as she began to get clean and
+beautiful, as the muslins of the great mirror became a frame for a
+gorgeous picture of a lady, Flutter-Duck grew more and more aloof from
+workaday interests, felt herself borne into a higher world of radiance
+and elegance, into a rarefied atmosphere of gentility, that froze her
+to statue-like frigidity.</p>
+
+<p>She was not Flutter-Duck then.</p>
+
+<p>And when she was quite dressed for the wedding, and had put on the
+earrings with the coloured stones and the crowning glory of the
+chignon of false plaits, stuck over with little artificial white
+flowers, the female neighbours came crowding into the work-room
+boudoir to see how she looked, and she revolved silently for their
+inspection like a dressmaker's figure, at most acknowledging their
+compliments with monosyllables. She had invited them to come and
+admire her appearance, but by the time they came she had grown too
+proud to speak to them. Even the women of whose finery she wore
+fragments, and who had contributed to her splendour, seemed to her
+poor dingy creatures, whose contact would sully her embroidered
+petticoat. In grotesque contrast with her peacock-like stateliness,
+the big <i>tripha</i> goose began to get lively, cackling and flapping
+about within<span class="pagenum">[385]</span> its radius, as if the soul of Flutter-Duck had passed
+into its body.</p>
+
+<p>The moment of departure had come. The cab stood at the street-door,
+and a composite crowd stood round the cab. In the Ghetto a cab has
+special significance, and Flutter-Duck would have to pass to hers
+through an avenue of polyglot commentators. At the last moment,
+adjusting her fleecy wrap over her head like any <i>grande dame</i> (from
+whom she differed only in the modesty of her high bodice and her full
+sleeves), Flutter-Duck discovered that there was a great rent in one
+part of the wrap and a great stain in another. She uttered an
+exclamation of dismay&mdash;this seemed to her the climax of the day's
+misfortunes.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I do? What shall I do?" she cried, her dignity almost
+melting in tears.</p>
+
+<p>The by-standers made sympathetic but profitless noises.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, double it another way," jerked Rachel from the work-table. "Come
+here, I'll do it for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you too lazy to come here?" replied Flutter-Duck irritably.
+Rachel rose and went towards her, and rearranged the wrap.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no, that won't do," complained Flutter-Duck, attitudinising before
+the glass. "It shows as bad as ever. Oh, what shall I do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know what I'll tell you?" said her husband meditatively:
+"Don't go!"</p>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck threw him a fiery look.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh well," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders and thrusting forward
+her lip contemptuously, "it'll have to do."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it won't&mdash;lend me your pink one."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not going to have my pink one dirtied, too," grumbled Rachel.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[386]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you hear what I say?" exclaimed Flutter-Duck, with increasing
+wrath. "Give me the pink wrap! When the mother says is said!" And she
+looked around the group of spectators, in search of sympathy with her
+trials and admiration for her maternal dignity.</p>
+
+<p>"I can never keep anything for myself," said Rachel sullenly. "You
+never take care of anything."</p>
+
+<p>"I took care of you," screamed Flutter-Duck, goaded beyond endurance
+by the thought that her neighbours were witnessing this filial
+disrespect. "And a fat lot of good it's done me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, much care you take of me. You only think of enjoying yourself.
+It's young girls who ought to go out, not old women."</p>
+
+<p>"You impudent face!" And with an irresistible impulse of savagery, a
+reversion to the days of <i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni</i>, Flutter-Duck swung round her arm,
+and struck Rachel violently on the cheek with her white-gloved hand.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i097.jpg" width="620" height="414" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">&quot;&#39;YOU IMPUDENT FACE!&#39;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sound of the slap rang hollow and awful through the room.</p>
+
+<p>The workers looked up and paused, the neighbours held their breath;
+there was a dread silence, broken only by the hissings of the excited
+goose, and the half involuntary apologetic murmurings of
+Flutter-Duck's lips: "If I bin a mother, I bin a mother."</p>
+
+<p>For an instant Rachel's face was a white mask, on which five fingers
+stood out in fire; the next it was one burning mass of angry blood.
+She clenched her fist, as if about to strike her mother, then let the
+fingers relax; half from a relic of filial awe, half from respect for
+the finery. There was a peculiar light in her eyes. Without a word she
+turned slowly on her heel and walked into her little room, emerging,
+after an instant of general suspense, with the pink wrap in<span class="pagenum">[387]</span> <span class="pagenum">[388]</span>her
+hand. She gave it to her mother, without looking at her, and walked
+back to her work, and poor foolish Flutter-Duck, relieved, triumphant,
+and with an irreproachable head-wrap, passed majestically from the
+room, amid the buzz of the neighbours (who accompanied her downstairs
+with valedictory brushings of fur-fluff from her shoulders), through
+the avenue of polyglot commentators, into the waiting cab.</p>
+
+<p>All this time Flutter-Duck's husband had sat petrified, but now a
+great burst of coughing shook him. He did not know what to say or do,
+and prolonged the cough artificially to cover his embarrassment. Then
+he opened his mouth several times, but shut it indecisively. At last
+he said soothingly, with kindly clumsiness: "Nee, nee; you shouldn't
+irritate the mother, Rachel. You know what she is."</p>
+
+<p>Rachel's needle plodded on, and the uneasy silence resumed its sway.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Rachel rose, put down her piece of work finished, and
+without a word passed back to her bedroom, her beautiful figure erect
+and haughty. Lewis heard her key turn in the lock. The hours passed,
+and she did not return. Her father did not like to appear anxious
+before the "hands," but he had a discomforting vision of her lying on
+her bed, in a dumb agony of shame and rage. At last eight o'clock
+struck, and, backward as the work was, Lewis did not suggest overtime.
+He even dismissed the servant an hour before her time. He was in a
+fever of impatience, but delicacy had kept him from intruding on his
+daughter's grief before strangers. Now he hastened to her door, and
+knocked timidly, then loudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Nee, nee, Rachel," he cried, with sympathetic sternness, "Enough!"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[389]</span></p>
+
+<p>But a chill silence alone answered him.</p>
+
+<p>He burst open the rickety door, and saw a dark mass huddled up in the
+shadow on the bed. A nearer glance showed him it was only clothes. He
+opened the door that led on to Jacob's ladder, and called her name.
+Then by the light streaming in from the other apartment he hastily
+examined the room. It was obvious that she had put on her best
+clothes, and gone out.</p>
+
+<p>Half relieved, he returned to the sitting-room, leaving the door ajar,
+and recited his evening prayer. Then he began to prepare a little meal
+for himself, telling himself that she had gone for a walk, after her
+manner; perhaps was shaking off her depression at the Cambridge Music
+Hall. Supper over and grace said, he started doing the overwork, and
+then, when sheer weariness forced him to stop, he drew his comfortless
+wooden chair to the kitchen fire, and studied Rabbinical lore from a
+minutely printed folio.</p>
+
+<p>The Whitechapel Church clock, suddenly booming midnight, awoke him
+from these sacred subtleties with a start of alarm. Rachel had not
+returned.</p>
+
+<p>The fire burnt low. He shivered, and threw on some coal. Half an hour
+more he waited, listening for her footstep. Surely the music-hall must
+be closed by now. He crept down the stairs, and wandered vaguely into
+the cold, starless night, jostled by leering females, and returned
+forlorn and coughing. Then the thought flashed upon him that his girl
+had gone to her mother, had gone to fetch her from the wedding ball,
+and to make it up with her. Yes; that would be it. Hence the best
+clothes. It could be nothing else. He must not let any other thought
+get a hold on his mind. He would have run round to the festive scene,
+only he did not know precisely where it was, and it was too late to
+ask the neighbours.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[390]</span></p>
+
+<p>One o'clock!</p>
+
+<p>A mournful monotone, stern in its absoluteness, like the clang of a
+gate shutting out a lost soul.</p>
+
+<p>One more hour of aching suspense, scarcely dulled by the task of
+making hot coffee, and cutting bread and butter for his returning
+womankind; then Flutter-Duck came back. Alone!</p>
+
+<p>Came back in her cab, her fading features flushed with the joy of
+life, with the artificial flowers in her false chignon, and the pink
+wrap over her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Rachel?" gasped poor Lewis, meeting her at the street-door.</p>
+
+<p>"Rachel! isn't she here? I left her with you," answered Flutter-Duck,
+half sobered.</p>
+
+<p>"Merciful God!" ejaculated her husband, and put his hand to his
+breast, pierced by a shooting pain.</p>
+
+<p>"I left her with you," repeated Flutter-Duck with white lips. "Why did
+you let her go out? Why didn't you look after her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Silence, you sinful mother!" cried Lewis. "You shamed her before
+strangers, and she has gone out&mdash;to drown herself&mdash;what do I know?"</p>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck burst into hysterical sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, take her part against me! You always make me out wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Restrain yourself!" he whispered imperiously. "Do you wish to have
+the neighbours hear you again?"</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay she's only hiding somewhere, sulking, as she did when a
+child," said Flutter-Duck. "Have you looked under the bed?"</p>
+
+<p>Foolish as he knew her words were, they gave him a gleam of hope. He
+led the way upstairs without answering, and taking a candle, examined
+her bedroom again with ludicrous minuteness. This time the sight of
+her old clothes was<span class="pagenum">[391]</span> comforting; if she had wanted to drown herself,
+she would not&mdash;he reasoned with perhaps too masculine a logic&mdash;have
+taken her best clothes to spoil. With a sudden thought he displaced
+the hearthstone. He had early discovered where she kept her savings,
+though he had neither tampered with them nor betrayed his knowledge.
+The tin box was broken open, empty! In the drawers there was not a
+single article of her jewellery. Rachel had evidently left home! She
+had gone by way of Jacob's ladder&mdash;secretly.</p>
+
+<p>Prostrated by the discovery, the parents sat down in helpless silence.
+Then Flutter-Duck began to wring her white-gloved hands, and to babble
+incoherent suggestions and reproaches, and protestations that she was
+not to blame. The hot coffee cooled untasted, the pink wrap lay
+crumpled on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Lewis revolved the situation rapidly. What could be done? Evidently
+nothing&mdash;for that night at least. Even the police could do nothing
+till the morning, and to call them in at all would be to publish the
+scandal to the whole world. Rachel had gone to some lodging&mdash;there
+could be no doubt about that. And yet he could not go to bed, his
+heart still expected her, though his brain had given up hope. He
+walked about restlessly, racked by fits of coughing, then he dropped
+back into his seat before the decaying fire. And Flutter-Duck,
+frightened into silence at last, sat on the sofa, dazed, in her
+trappings and gewgaws, with the white flowers glistening in her false
+hair, and her pallid cheeks stained with tears.</p>
+
+<p>And so they waited in the uncouth room in the solemn watches of the
+night, pricking up their ears at a rare footstep in the street, and
+hastening to peep out of the window; waiting for the knock that came
+not, and the dawn that was distant. The silence lay upon them like a
+pall.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[392]</span></p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, in the weird stillness, they heard a fluttering and a
+skurrying, and, looking up, they saw a great white thing floating
+through the room. Flutter-Duck uttered a terrible cry. "Hear, O
+Israel!" she shrieked.</p>
+
+<p>"Nee, nee," said Lewis reassuringly, though scarcely less startled.
+"It is only the <i>tripha</i> goose got loose."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay, it is the Devil!" hoarsely whispered Flutter-Duck, who had
+covered her face with her hands, and was shaking as with palsy.</p>
+
+<p>Her terror communicated itself to her husband. "Hush, hush! Talk not
+so," he said, shivering with indefinable awe.</p>
+
+<p>"Say psalms, say psalms!" panted Flutter-Duck. "Drive him out."</p>
+
+<p>Lewis opened the window, but the unclean bird showed no desire to
+flit. It was evidently the Not-Good-One himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Hear, O Israel!" wailed Flutter-Duck. "Since he came in this morning
+everything has been upside down."</p>
+
+<p>The goose chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>Lewis was seized with a fell terror that gave him a mad courage.
+Murmuring a holy phrase, he grabbed at the goose, which eluded him,
+and fluttered flappingly hither and thither. Lewis gave chase, his
+lips praying mechanically. At last he caught it by a wing, haled it,
+hissing and struggling and uttering rasping cries, to the window,
+flung it without, and closed the sash with a bang. Then he fell
+impotent against the work-table, and spat out a mouthful of blood.</p>
+
+<p>"God be praised!" said Flutter-Duck, slowly uncovering her eyes. "Now
+Rachel will come back."</p>
+
+<p>And with renewed hope they waited on, and the deathly silence again
+possessed the room.</p>
+
+<p>All at once they heard a light step under the window; the father threw
+it open and saw a female form outlined in the darkness. There was a
+rat-tat-tat at the door.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[393]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah, there she is!" hysterically ejaculated Flutter-Duck, starting up.</p>
+
+<p>"The Holy One be blessed!" cried Lewis, rushing down the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>A strange figure, the head covered by a green tartan shawl, greeted
+him. A cold ague passed over his limbs.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God, it's all right," said Mrs. Lefkovitch. "I see from your
+light you are still working; but isn't it time my Emanuel left off?"</p>
+
+<p>"Your Emanuel?" gasped Lewis, with a terrible suspicion. "He went home
+early in the day; he was taken ill."</p>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck, who had crept at his heels bearing a candle, cried out,
+"God in Israel! She has flown away with Emanuel."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, you piece of folly!" whispered Lewis furiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was already arranged, and you blamed me!" gasped
+Flutter-Duck, with a last instinct of self-defence ere consciousness
+left her, and she fell forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence," Lewis began, but there was an awful desolation at his heart
+and the salt of blood was in his mouth as he caught the falling form.
+The candlestick rolled to the ground, and the group was left in the
+heavy shadows of the staircase and the cold blast from the open door.</p>
+
+<p>"God have mercy on me and the poor children! I knew all along it would
+come to that!" wailed Emanuel's wife.</p>
+
+<p>"And I advanced him his week's money on Monday," Lewis remembered in
+the agony of the moment.</p><p><span class="pagenum">[394]</span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+<p class="h3">POOR FLUTTER-DUCK.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Her cap blew off, her gown blew up,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a whirlwind cleared the larder."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i4">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>: <i>The Goose</i>.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It was New Year's Eve.</p>
+
+<p>In the Ghetto, where "the evening and the morning are one day," New
+Year's Eve is at its height at noon. The muddy market-places roar, and
+the joyous medley of squeezing humanity moves slowly through the crush
+of mongers, pickpockets, and beggars. It is one of those festival
+occasions on which even those who have migrated from the Ghetto
+gravitate back to purchase those dainties whereof the heathen have not
+the secret, and to look again upon the old familiar scene. There is a
+stir of goodwill and gaiety, a reconciliation of old feuds in view of
+the solemn season of repentance, and a washing-down of enmities in
+rum.</p>
+
+<p>At the point where the two main market-streets met, a grey-haired
+elderly woman stood and begged.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Flutter-Duck!</p>
+
+<p>Her husband dead, after a protracted illness that frittered away his
+savings; her daughter lost; her home a mattress in the corner of a
+strange family's garret; her faded prettiness turned to ugliness: her
+figure thin and wasted; her yellow-wrinkled face framed in a frowsy
+shawl; her clothes tattered and flimsy; Flutter-Duck stood and
+<i>schnorred</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But Flutter-Duck did not do well. Her feather-head was not equal to
+the demands of her profession. She had selected what was ostensibly
+the coign of most vantage,<span class="pagenum">[395]</span> <span class="pagenum">[396]</span>forgetting that though everybody in the
+market must pass her station, they would already have been mulcted in
+the one street or the other.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img class="border2" src="images/i098.jpg" width="401" height="595" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="caption">MARKET-DAY IN THE GHETTO.</p>
+
+<p>But she held out her hand pertinaciously, appealing to every passer-by
+of importance, and throwing audible curses after those that ignored
+her. The cold of the bleak autumn day and the apathy of the public
+chilled her to the bone; the tears came into her eyes as she thought
+of all her misery and of the happy time&mdash;only a couple of years
+ago&mdash;when New Year meant new dresses. Only a grey fringe&mdash;the last
+vanity of pauperdom&mdash;remained of all her fashionableness. No more the
+plaited chignon, the silk gown, the triple necklace,&mdash;the dazzling
+exterior that made her too proud to speak to admiring
+neighbours,&mdash;only hunger and cold and mockery and loneliness. No
+plumes could she borrow, now that she really needed them to cover her
+nakedness. She who had reigned over a work-room, who had owned a
+husband and a marriageable daughter, who had commanded a maid-servant,
+who had driven in shilling cabs!</p>
+
+<p>Oh, if she could only find her daughter&mdash;that lost creature by whose
+wedding-canopy she should have stood, radiant, the envy of Montague
+Street! But this was not a thought of to-day. It was at the bottom of
+all her thoughts always, ever since that fatal night. During the first
+year she was always on the lookout, peering into every woman's face,
+running after every young couple that looked like Emanuel and Rachel.
+But repeated disappointment dulled her. She had no energy for anything
+except begging. Yet the hope of finding Rachel was the gleam of
+idealism that kept her soul alive.</p>
+
+<p>The hours went by, but the streams of motley pedestrians and the babel
+of vociferous vendors and chattering buyers did not slacken. Females
+were in the great majority, housewives from far and near foraging for
+Festival supplies.<span class="pagenum">[397]</span> In vain Flutter-Duck wished them "A Good Sealing."
+It seemed as if her own Festival would be black and bitter as the
+Feast of Ab.</p>
+
+<p>But she continued to hold out her bloodless hand. Towards three
+o'clock a fine English lady, in a bonnet, passed by, carrying a
+leather bag.</p>
+
+<p>"Grant me a halfpenny, lady, dear! May you be written down for a good
+year!"</p>
+
+<p>The beautiful lady paused, startled. Then Flutter-Duck's heart gave a
+great leap of joy. The impossible had happened at last. Behind the
+veil shone the face of Rachel&mdash;a face of astonishment and horror.</p>
+
+<p>"Rachel!" she shrieked, tottering.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother!" cried Rachel, catching her by the arm. "What are you doing
+here? What has happened?"</p>
+
+<p>"Do not touch me, sinful girl!" answered Flutter-Duck, shaking her off
+with a tragic passion that gave dignity to the grotesque figure. Now
+that Rachel was there in the flesh, the remembrance of her shame
+surged up, drowning everything. "You have disgraced the mother who
+bore you and the father who gave you life."</p>
+
+<p>The fine English lady&mdash;her whole soul full of sudden remorse at the
+sight of her mother's incredible poverty, shrank before the blazing
+eyes. The passers-by imagined Rachel had refused the beggar-woman
+alms.</p>
+
+<p>"What have I done?" she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Emanuel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Emanuel!" repeated Rachel, puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Emanuel Lefkovitch that you ran away with."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, are you mad? I have never seen him. I am married."</p>
+
+<p>"Married!" gasped Flutter-Duck ecstatically. Then a new dread rose to
+her mind. "To a Christian?"</p><p><span class="pagenum">[398]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Me marry a Christian! The idea!"</p>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck fell a-sobbing on the fine lady's fur jacket. "And you
+never ran away with Lefkovitch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me take another woman's leavings? Well, upon my word!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," sobbed Flutter-Duck. "Oh, if your father could only have lived
+to know the truth!"</p>
+
+<p>Rachel's remorse became heartrending. "Is father dead?" she murmured
+with white lips. After awhile she drew her mother out of the babel,
+and giving her the bag to carry to save appearances, she walked slowly
+towards Liverpool Street, and took train with her for her pretty
+little cottage near Epping Forest.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel's story was as simple as her mother's. After the showing up of
+Emanuel's duplicity, home had no longer the least attraction for her.
+Her nascent love for the migratory husband changed to a loathing that
+embraced the whole Ghetto in which such things were possible. Weary of
+Flutter-Duck's follies, indifferent to her father, she had long
+meditated joining her West-end girl-friend in the fur establishment in
+Regent Street, but the blow precipitated matters. She felt she could
+not remain a night more under her mother's roof, and her father's
+clumsy comment was but salt on her wound. Her heart was hard against
+both; month after month passed before her passionate, sullen nature
+would let her dwell on the thought of their trouble, and even then she
+felt that the motive of her flight was so plain that they would feel
+only remorse, not anxiety. They knew she could always earn her living,
+just as she knew they could always earn theirs. Living "in," and going
+out but rarely, and then in the fashionable districts, she never met
+any drift from the Ghetto, and the busy life of the populous
+establishment soon effaced the old, which faded to a forgotten dream.<span class="pagenum">[399]</span>
+One day the chief provincial traveller of the house saw her, fell in
+love, married her, and took her about the country for six months. He
+was coming back to her that very evening for the New Year. She had
+gone back to the Ghetto that day to buy New Year honey, and, softened
+by time and happiness, rather hoped to stumble across her mother in
+the market-place, and so save the submission of a call. She never
+dreamed of death and poverty. She would not blame herself for her
+father's death&mdash;he had always been consumptive&mdash;but since death was
+come at last, it was lucky she could offer her mother a home. Her
+husband would be delighted to find a companion for his wife during his
+country rounds.</p>
+
+<p>"So you see, mother, everything is for the best."</p>
+
+<p>Flutter-Duck listened in a delicious daze.</p>
+
+<p>What! Was everything then to end happily after all? Was she&mdash;the
+shabby old starveling&mdash;to be restored to comfort and fine clothes? Her
+brain seemed bursting with the thought of so much happiness; as the
+train flew along past green grass and autumn-tinted foliage, she
+strove to articulate a prayer of gratitude to Heaven, but she only
+mumbled "<i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni</i>," and lapsed into silence. And then, suddenly
+remembering she had started a prayer and must finish it, she murmured
+again "<i>M&eacute;di&acirc;ni</i>."</p>
+
+<p>When they came to the grand house with the front garden, and were
+admitted by a surprised maid-servant, infinitely nattier than any
+Flutter-Duck had ever ruled over, the poor creature was palsied with
+excess of bliss. The fire was blazing merrily in the luxurious
+parlour: could this haven of peace and pomp&mdash;these arm-chairs, those
+vases, that side-board&mdash;be really for her? Was she to spend her New
+Year's night surrounded by love and luxury, instead of huddling in the
+corner of a cold garret?</p><p><span class="pagenum">[400]</span></p>
+
+<p>And as soon as Rachel had got her mother installed in a wonderful
+easy-chair, she hastened with all the eagerness of maternal pride,
+with all the enthusiasm of remorse, to throw open the folding-doors
+that led to her bedroom, so as to give Flutter-Duck the crowning
+surprise&mdash;the secret titbit she had reserved for the grand climax.</p>
+
+<p>"There's a fine boy!" she cried.</p>
+
+<p>And as Flutter-Duck caught sight of the little red face peeping out
+from the snowy draperies of the cradle, a rapture too great to bear
+seemed almost to snap something within her foolish, overwrought brain.</p>
+
+<p>"I have already a grandchild!" she shrieked, with a great sob of
+ecstasy; and, running to the cradle-side, she fell on her knees, and
+covered the little red face with frantic kisses, repeating "Lewis
+love, Lewis love, Lewis love," till the babe screamed, and Rachel had
+to tear the babbling creature away.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>You may see her almost any day walking in the Ghetto market-place&mdash;a
+meagre, old figure, with a sharp-featured face and a plaited chignon.
+She dresses richly in silk, and her golden earrings are set with
+coloured stones, and her bonnet is of the latest fashion. She lives
+near Epping Forest, and almost always goes home to tea. Sometimes she
+stands still at the point where the two market streets meet, extending
+vacantly a gloved hand, but for the most part she wanders about the
+by-streets and alleys of Whitechapel with an anxious countenance,
+peering at every woman she meets, and following every young couple.
+"If I could only find her!" she thinks yearningly.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody knows whom she is looking for, but everybody knows she is only
+"Flutter-Duck."</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p class="h3">MACMILLAN'S DOLLAR SERIES</p>
+
+<p class="h4">OF</p>
+
+<p class="h3">WORKS BY POPULAR AUTHORS.</p>
+
+<p class="h5"><i>Crown 8vo.</i> <i>Cloth extra.</i> <i>$1.00 each.</i></p>
+
+<p class="h3"><span class="smcap">By</span> F. MARION CRAWFORD.</p>
+
+<p>With the solitary exception of Mrs. Oliphant, we have no living novelist more distinguished
+for variety of theme and range of imaginative outlook than Mr. Marion Crawford.&mdash;<i>Spectator.</i></p>
+
+<p class="bold">THE CHILDREN OF THE KING.<br />
+DON ORSINO.<br />
+MR. ISAACS: A Tale of Modern India.<br />
+DR. CLAUDIUS: A True Story.<br />
+ZOROASTER.<br />
+A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH.<br />
+SARACINESCA. A New Novel.<br />
+MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX.<br />
+WITH THE IMMORTALS.<br />
+GREIFENSTEIN.<br />
+SANT' ILARIO.<br />
+A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.<br />
+KHALED: A Tale of Arabia.<br />
+THE WITCH OF PRAGUE. With numerous Illustrations by W. J. <span class="smcap">Hennessy</span>.
+THE THREE FATES.</p>
+
+<p class="h3"><span class="smcap">By</span> CHARLES DICKENS.</p>
+
+<p>It would be difficult to imagine a better edition of Dickens at the price than that which
+is now appearing in Macmillan's Series of Dollar Novels.&mdash;<i>Boston Beacon.</i></p>
+
+<p class="bold">
+THE PICKWICK PAPERS. 50 Illustrations.
+(<i>Ready.</i>)<br />
+
+OLIVER TWIST. 27 Illustrations.
+(<i>Ready.</i>)<br />
+
+NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 44 Illustrations.
+(<i>Ready.</i>)<br />
+
+MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 41 Illustrations.
+(<i>Ready.</i>)<br />
+
+THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. 97 Illustrations.
+(<i>Ready.</i>)<br />
+
+BARNABY RUDGE. 76 Illustrations.
+(<i>Ready.</i>)<br />
+
+SKETCHES BY BOZ. 44 Illustrations.
+(<i>Ready.</i>)<br />
+
+DOMBEY AND SON. 40 Illustrations.
+(<i>Ready.</i>)<br />
+
+CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 65 Illustrations.
+(<i>December.</i>)<br />
+
+DAVID COPPERFIELD. 41 Illustrations.
+(<i>January.</i>)<br />
+
+AMERICAN NOTES, AND PICTURES FROM ITALY. 4 Illustrations. (<i>Feb.</i>)
+</p>
+
+<p class="h3"><span class="smcap">By</span> CHARLES KINGSLEY.</p>
+
+<p class="bold">
+ALTON LOCKE.<br />
+HEREWARD.<br />
+HEROES.<br />
+WESTWARD HO!<br />
+HYPATIA.<br />
+TWO YEARS AGO.<br />
+WATER BABIES. Illustrated.<br />
+YEAST.
+</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> HENRY JAMES.
+</p>
+
+<p>He has the power of seeing with the artistic perception of the few, and of writing
+about what he has seen, so that the many can understand and feel with him.&mdash;<i>Saturday
+Review.</i></p>
+
+<p class="bold">
+THE LESSON OF THE MASTER AND OTHER STORIES.<br />
+
+THE REVERBERATOR.<br />
+
+THE ASPEN PAPERS AND OTHER
+STORIES.<br />
+
+A LONDON LIFE.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> ANNIE KEARY.
+</p><p>
+In our opinion there have not been many novels published better worth reading. The
+literary workmanship is excellent, and all the windings of the stories are worked with
+patient fulness and a skill not often found.&mdash;<i>Spectator.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+JANET'S HOME.<br />
+CLEMENCY FRANKLYN.<br />
+A DOUBTING HEART.<br />
+THE HEROES OF ASGARD.<br />
+A YORK AND LANCASTER ROSE.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.
+</p><p>
+Few modern novelists can tell a story of English country life better than Mr. D.
+Christie Murray.&mdash;<i>Spectator.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+AUNT RACHEL.<br />
+THE WEAKER VESSEL.<br />
+SCHWARZ.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> MRS. OLIPHANT.
+</p><p>
+Has the charm of style, the literary quality and flavour that never fails to please.&mdash;<i>Saturday
+Review.</i>
+</p><p>
+At her best she is, with one or two exceptions, the best of living English novelists.&mdash;<i>Academy.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+A SON OF THE SOIL. New Edition.<br />
+
+THE CURATE IN CHARGE. New
+Edition.<br />
+
+YOUNG MUSGRAVE. New Edition.<br />
+
+HE THAT WILL NOT WHEN HE
+MAY. New and Cheaper Edition.<br />
+
+SIR TOM. New Edition.<br />
+
+HESTER. A Story of Contemporary Life.<br />
+
+THE WIZARD'S SON. New Edition.<br />
+
+A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN AND
+HIS FAMILY. New Edition.<br />
+
+NEIGHBOURS ON THE GREEN.
+New Edition.<br />
+
+AGNES HOPETOUN'S SCHOOLS AND
+HOLIDAYS. With Illustrations.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> J. H. SHORTHOUSE.
+</p><p>
+Powerful, striking, and fascinating romances.&mdash;<i>Anti-Jacobin.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+BLANCHE, LADY FALAISE.br />
+JOHN INGLESANT.<br />
+SIR PERCIVAL.<br />
+THE COUNTESS EVE.<br />
+A TEACHER OF THE VIOLIN.<br />
+THE LITTLE SCHOOLMASTER MARK.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> MRS. CRAIK.
+</p><p>
+(The Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman.")
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.<br />
+ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE.<br />
+ALICE LEARMONT.<br />
+OUR YEAR.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> MRS. HUMPHRY WARD.
+</p><p>
+Mrs. Ward, with her "Robert Elsmere" and "David Grieve," has established with
+extraordinary rapidity an enduring reputation as one who has expressed what is deepest
+and most real in the thought of the time.... They are dramas of the time vitalized
+by the hopes, fears, doubts, and despairing struggles after higher ideals which are swaying
+the minds of men and women of this generation.&mdash;<i>New York Tribune.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+ROBERT ELSMERE.<br />
+THE HISTORY OF DAVID GRIEVE.<br />
+MILLY AND OLLY.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> RUDYARD KIPLING.
+</p><p>
+Every one knows that it is not easy to write good short stories. Mr. Kipling has
+changed all that. Here are forty of them, averaging less than eight pages apiece; there
+is not a dull one in the lot. Some are tragedy, some broad comedy, some tolerably sharp
+satire. The time has passed to ignore or undervalue Mr. Kipling. He has won his spurs
+and taken his prominent place in the arena. This, as the legitimate edition, should be
+preferred to the pirated ones by all such as care for honesty in letters.&mdash;<i>Churchman</i>,
+New York.
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS.<br />
+LIFE'S HANDICAP.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> AMY LEVY.
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+REUBEN SACHS.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> M. McLENNAN.
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+MUCKLE JOCK, AND OTHER STORIES.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> THOMAS HUGHES.
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+TOM BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS.
+Illustrated.<br />
+
+RUGBY, TENNESSEE.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> ROLF BOLDREWOOD.
+</p><p>
+Mr. Boldrewood can tell what he knows with great point and vigour, and there is no
+better reading than the adventurous parts of his books.&mdash;<i>Saturday Review.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+ROBBERY UNDER ARMS.<br />
+NEVERMORE.<br />
+SYDNEY-SIDE SAXON.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> SIR HENRY CUNNINGHAM, K.C.I.E.
+</p><p>
+Interesting as specimens of romance, the style of writing is so excellent&mdash;scholarly
+and at the same time easy and natural&mdash;that the volumes are worth reading on that
+account alone. But there is also masterly description of persons, places, and things;
+skilful analysis of character; a constant play of wit and humour; and a happy gift of
+instantaneous portraiture.&mdash;<i>St. James's Gazette.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+THE C&OElig;RULEANS: <span class="smcap">A Vacation Idyll</span>.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> GEORGE GISSING.
+</p><p>
+We earnestly commend the book for its high literary merit, its deep bright interest,
+and for the important and healthful lessons that it teaches.&mdash;<i>Boston Home Journal.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+DENZIL QUARRIER.<br />
+THE ODD WOMEN.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> W. CLARK RUSSELL.
+</p><p>
+The descriptions are wonderfully realistic ... and the breath of the ocean is over
+and through every page. The plot is very novel indeed, and is developed with skill and
+tact. Altogether one of the cleverest and most entertaining of Mr. Russell's many
+works.&mdash;<i>Boston Times.</i>
+</p>
+<p class="bold">
+A STRANGE ELOPEMENT.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By the Hon.</span> EMILY LAWLESS.
+</p><p>
+It is a charming story, full of natural life, fresh in style and thought, pure in tone, and
+refined in feeling.&mdash;<i>Nineteenth Century.</i>
+</p><p>
+A strong and original story. It is marked by originality, freshness, insight, a rare
+graphic power, and as rare a psychological perception. It is in fact a better story than
+"Hurrish," and that is saying a good deal.&mdash;<i>New York Tribune.</i>
+</p><p class="bold">
+GRANIA: <span class="smcap">The Story of an Island.</span></p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> A NEW AUTHOR.
+</p><p>
+We should not be surprised if this should prove to be the most popular book of the
+present season; it cannot fail to be one of the most remarkable.&mdash;<i>Literary World.</i>
+</p><p class="bold">
+TIM: <span class="smcap">A Story of School Life.</span></p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> LANOE FALCONER.
+</p><p class="h4">
+(Author of "Mademoiselle Ixe.")
+</p><p>
+It is written with cleverness and brightness, and there is so much human nature in it
+that the attention of the reader is held to the end.... The book shows far greater
+powers than were evident in "Mademoiselle Ixe," and if the writer who is hidden behind
+the <i>nom de guerre</i> Lanoe Falconer goes on, she is likely to make for herself no inconsiderable
+name in fiction.&mdash;<i>Boston Courier.</i>
+</p><p class="bold">
+CECILIA DE NO&Euml;L.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By the Rev. Prof.</span> ALFRED J. CHURCH.
+</p><p>
+Rev. Alfred J. Church, M.A., has long been doing valiant service in literature in
+presenting his stories of the early centuries, so clear is his style and so remarkable his
+gift of enfolding historical events and personages with the fabric of a romance, entertaining
+and oftentimes fascinating.... One has the feeling that he is reading an accurate
+description of real scenes, that the characters are living&mdash;so masterly is Professor
+Church's ability to reclothe history and make it as interesting as a romance.&mdash;<i>Boston
+Times.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p class="h3">STORIES FROM THE<br />
+GREEK COMEDIANS.<br />
+<br />
+      ARISTOPHANES. PHILEMON.<br />
+DIPHILUS. MENANDER. APOLLODORUS.</p>
+<p class="h4">
+<i>With Sixteen Illustrations after the Antique.</i>
+</p><p class="bold">
+
+THE STORY OF THE ILIAD.
+With Coloured Illustrations.<br />
+
+THE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY.
+With Coloured Illustrations.<br />
+
+THE BURNING OF ROME.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> MRS. F. A. STEEL.
+</p><p>
+The story is a delightful one, with a good plot, an abundance of action and incident,
+well and naturally drawn characters, excellent in sentiment, and with a good ending.
+Its interest begins with the opening paragraph, and is well sustained to the end.
+Mrs. Steel touches all her stories with the hand of a master, and she is yet to write one
+that is any way dull or uninteresting.&mdash;<i>The Christian at Work.</i>
+</p><p class="bold">
+
+MISS STUART'S LEGACY.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> PAUL CUSHING.
+</p><p>
+... A first-class detective story. Not a detective story of the ordinary blood-and-thunder
+kind, but a really good story, that is told in a vigorous and attractive way....
+It is full of incident and especially good dialogue. The people in it really talk. The
+story is well worth reading.&mdash;<i>Commercial Gazette.</i>
+</p><p class="bold">
+THE GREAT CHIN EPISODE.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> MARY A. DICKENS.
+</p><p>
+Felicitous in style and simple enough in plot, it is powerfully vivid and dramatic, and
+well sustains the interest throughout.... There is a vein of grave pleasantry in the
+earlier portion of the work, which has to be abandoned as the tragic portion of it
+develops; but it is sufficient to show that the writer possesses the charm of pleasant
+recital when she wishes to exert it, as becomes her father's daughter.&mdash;<i>The Catholic
+World.</i>
+</p><p class="bold">
+A MERE CYPHER.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By</span> MARY WEST.
+</p><p>
+The novel is admirably written. It has not only distinction of style, but intellectual
+quality of an exceptionable order; and while the treatment is never didactic, questions
+of ethical import come naturally into evidence, and are dealt with in a decisive way....
+A remarkably well-executed piece of fiction.&mdash;<i>Utica News.</i>
+</p><p class="bold">
+A BORN PLAYER.</p>
+
+<p class="h3">
+<span class="smcap">By the</span> MARCHESA THEODOLI.
+</p><p>
+A thoroughly pleasing and unpretentious story of modern Rome. The pictures of
+home life in the princely Astalli family are most curious and interesting; while the
+reader's sympathy with the charming and delicate romance of the book, ending happily
+at last, in the face of apparently insurmountable obstacles, will be readily enlisted from
+its inception.&mdash;<i>The Art Amateur.</i>
+</p><p class="bold">
+UNDER PRESSURE.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The King of Schnorrers, by Israel Zangwill
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING OF SCHNORRERS ***
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The King of Schnorrers, 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: The King of Schnorrers
+       Grotesques and Fantasies
+
+Author: Israel Zangwill
+
+Release Date: December 26, 2011 [EBook #38413]
+[Last updated: January 23, 2012]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING OF SCHNORRERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    _The King of Schnorrers_
+
+    _I. Zangwill_
+
+
+
+
+    _The King of Schnorrers_
+
+    _GROTESQUES AND FANTASIES_
+
+    BY I. ZANGWILL
+
+
+          AUTHOR OF
+    "CHILDREN OF THE GHETTO,"
+    "THE OLD MAIDS' CLUB,"
+    "MERELY MARY ANN," ETC.
+
+
+    New York
+    THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
+    LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LTD.
+    1909
+
+    _All rights reserved_
+
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1893,
+    BY MACMILLAN AND CO.
+
+
+    Set up and electrotyped January, 1894. Reprinted April,
+    1894; September, 1895; January, 1897; October, 1898; August,
+    1899; June, 1909.
+
+    Norwood Press
+    J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith
+    Norwood Mass. U.S.A.
+
+
+
+
+_Foreword to "The King of Schnorrers."_
+
+
+_These episodes make no claim to veracity, while the personages are
+not even sun-myths. I have merely amused myself and attempted to amuse
+idlers by incarnating the floating tradition of the Jewish_ SCHNORRER,
+_who is as unique among beggars as Israel among nations. The close of
+the eighteenth century was chosen for a background, because, while the
+most picturesque period of Anglo-Jewish history, it has never before
+been exploited in fiction, whether by novelists or historians. To my
+friend, Mr. Asher I. Myers, I am indebted for access to his unique
+collection of Jewish prints and caricatures of the period, and I have
+not been backward in_ SCHNORRING _suggestions from him and other
+private humourists. My indebtedness to my artists is more obvious,
+from my old friend George Hutchinson to my newer friend Phil May, who
+has been good enough to allow me to reproduce from his Annuals the
+brilliant sketches illustrating two of the shorter stories. Of these
+shorter stories it only remains to be said there are both tragic and
+comic, and I will not usurp the critic's prerogative by determining
+which is which._
+
+_I. Z._
+
+    _That all men are beggars, 'tis very plain to see,
+    Though some they are of lowly, and some of high degree:
+    Your ministers of State will say they never will allow
+    That kings from subjects beg; but that you know is all bow-wow.
+        Bow-wow-wow! Fol lol, etc._
+
+            OLD PLAY.
+
+
+
+
+    _Contents._
+
+
+    THE KING OF SCHNORRERS
+        _Illustrated by_ GEORGE HUTCHINSON.
+    THE SEMI-SENTIMENTAL DRAGON
+        _Illustrated by_ PHIL MAY.
+    AN HONEST LOG-ROLLER
+        _Illustrated by_ F. H. TOWNSEND.
+    A TRAGI-COMEDY OF CREEDS
+    THE MEMORY CLEARING HOUSE
+        _Illustrated by_ A. J. FINBERG.
+    MATED BY A WAITER
+        _Illustrated by_ MARK ZANGWILL.
+    THE PRINCIPAL BOY
+        _Illustrated by_ F. H. TOWNSEND _and_ MARK ZANGWILL.
+    AN ODD LIFE
+        _Illustrated by_ F. H. TOWNSEND.
+    CHEATING THE GALLOWS
+        _Illustrated by_ GEORGE HUTCHINSON.
+    SANTA CLAUS
+        _Illustrated by_ MARK ZANGWILL.
+    A ROSE OF THE GHETTO
+        _Illustrated by_ A. J. FINBERG.
+    A DOUBLE-BARRELLED GHOST
+        _Illustrated by_ PHIL MAY.
+    VAGARIES OF A VISCOUNT
+        _Illustrated by_ F. H. TOWNSEND.
+    THE QUEEN'S TRIPLETS
+        _Illustrated by_ IRVING MONTAGU.
+    A SUCCESSFUL OPERATION
+    FLUTTER-DUCK: A GHETTO GROTESQUE
+        _Illustrated by_ MARK ZANGWILL.
+
+
+
+
+THE KING OF SCHNORRERS.
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE WICKED PHILANTHROPIST WAS TURNED INTO A FISH-PORTER.
+
+In the days when Lord George Gordon became a Jew, and was suspected of
+insanity; when, out of respect for the prophecies, England denied her
+Jews every civic right except that of paying taxes; when the
+_Gentleman's Magazine_ had ill words for the infidel alien; when
+Jewish marriages were invalid and bequests for Hebrew colleges void;
+when a prophet prophesying Primrose Day would have been set in the
+stocks, though Pitt inclined his private ear to Benjamin Goldsmid's
+views on the foreign loans--in those days, when Tevele Schiff was
+Rabbi in Israel, and Dr. de Falk, the Master of the Tetragrammaton,
+saint and Cabbalistic conjuror, flourished in Wellclose Square, and
+the composer of "The Death of Nelson" was a choir-boy in the Great
+Synagogue; Joseph Grobstock, pillar of the same, emerged one afternoon
+into the spring sunshine at the fag-end of the departing stream of
+worshippers. In his hand was a large canvas bag, and in his eye a
+twinkle.
+
+There had been a special service of prayer and thanksgiving for the
+happy restoration of his Majesty's health, and the cantor had
+interceded tunefully with Providence on behalf of Royal George and
+"our most amiable Queen, Charlotte." The congregation was large and
+fashionable--far more so than when only a heavenly sovereign was
+concerned--and so the courtyard was thronged with a string of
+_Schnorrers_ (beggars), awaiting the exit of the audience, much as the
+vestibule of the opera-house is lined by footmen.
+
+They were a motley crew, with tangled beards and long hair that fell
+in curls, if not the curls of the period; but the gaberdines of the
+German Ghettoes had been in most cases exchanged for the knee-breeches
+and many-buttoned jacket of the Londoner. When the clothes one has
+brought from the Continent wear out, one must needs adopt the attire
+of one's superiors, or be reduced to buying. Many bore staves, and had
+their loins girded up with coloured handkerchiefs, as though ready at
+any moment to return from the Captivity. Their woebegone air was
+achieved almost entirely by not washing--it owed little to nature, to
+adventitious aids in the shape of deformities. The merest sprinkling
+boasted of physical afflictions, and none exposed sores like the
+lazars of Italy or contortions like the cripples of Constantinople.
+Such crude methods are eschewed in the fine art of _schnorring_. A
+green shade might denote weakness of sight, but the stone-blind man
+bore no braggart placard--his infirmity was an old established concern
+well known to the public, and conferring upon the proprietor a
+definite status in the community. He was no anonymous atom, such as
+drifts blindly through Christendom, vagrant and apologetic. Rarest of
+all sights in this pageantry of Jewish pauperdom was the hollow
+trouser-leg or the empty sleeve, or the wooden limb fulfilling either
+and pushing out a proclamatory peg.
+
+When the pack of _Schnorrers_ caught sight of Joseph Grobstock, they
+fell upon him full-cry, blessing him. He, nothing surprised, brushed
+pompously through the benedictions, though the twinkle in his eye
+became a roguish gleam. Outside the iron gates, where the throng was
+thickest, and where some elegant chariots that had brought worshippers
+from distant Hackney were preparing to start, he came to a standstill,
+surrounded by clamouring _Schnorrers_, and dipped his hand slowly and
+ceremoniously into the bag. There was a moment of breathless
+expectation among the beggars, and Joseph Grobstock had a moment of
+exquisite consciousness of importance, as he stood there swelling in
+the sunshine. There was no middle class to speak of in the
+eighteenth-century Jewry; the world was divided into rich and poor,
+and the rich were very, very rich, and the poor very, very poor, so
+that everyone knew his station. Joseph Grobstock was satisfied with
+that in which it had pleased God to place him. He was a jovial,
+heavy-jowled creature, whose clean-shaven chin was doubling, and he
+was habited like a person of the first respectability in a beautiful
+blue body-coat with a row of big yellow buttons. The frilled shirt
+front, high collar of the very newest fashion, and copious white
+neckerchief showed off the massive fleshiness of the red throat. His
+hat was of the Quaker pattern, and his head did not fail of the
+periwig and the pigtail, the latter being heretical in name only.
+
+[Illustration: "DIPPED HIS HAND INTO THE BAG."]
+
+What Joseph Grobstock drew from the bag was a small white-paper
+packet, and his sense of humour led him to place it in the hand
+furthest from his nose; for it was a broad humour, not a subtle. It
+enabled him to extract pleasure from seeing a fellow-mortal's hat
+rollick in the wind, but did little to alleviate the chase for his
+own. His jokes clapped you on the back, they did not tickle
+delicately.
+
+Such was the man who now became the complacent cynosure of all eyes,
+even of those that had no appeal in them, as soon as the principle of
+his eleemosynary operations had broken on the crowd. The first
+_Schnorrer_, feverishly tearing open his package, had found a florin,
+and, as by electricity, all except the blind beggar were aware that
+Joseph Grobstock was distributing florins. The distributor partook of
+the general consciousness, and his lips twitched. Silently he dipped
+again into the bag, and, selecting the hand nearest, put a second
+white package into it. A wave of joy brightened the grimy face, to
+change instantly to one of horror.
+
+"You have made a mistake--you have given me a penny!" cried the
+beggar.
+
+"Keep it for your honesty," replied Joseph Grobstock imperturbably,
+and affected not to enjoy the laughter of the rest. The third
+mendicant ceased laughing when he discovered that fold on fold of
+paper sheltered a tiny sixpence. It was now obvious that the great man
+was distributing prize-packets, and the excitement of the piebald
+crowd grew momently. Grobstock went on dipping, lynx-eyed against
+second applications. One of the few pieces of gold in the lucky-bag
+fell to the solitary lame man, who danced in his joy on his sound leg,
+while the poor blind man pocketed his halfpenny, unconscious of
+ill-fortune, and merely wondering why the coin came swathed in paper.
+
+[Illustration: "DANCED ON HIS SOUND LEG."]
+
+By this time Grobstock could control his face no longer, and the last
+episodes of the lottery were played to the accompaniment of a broad
+grin. Keen and complex was his enjoyment. There was not only the
+general surprise at this novel feat of alms; there were the special
+surprises of detail written on face after face, as it flashed or fell
+or frowned in congruity with the contents of the envelope, and for
+undercurrent a delicious hubbub of interjections and benedictions, a
+stretching and withdrawing of palms, and a swift shifting of figures,
+that made the scene a farrago of excitements. So that the broad grin
+was one of gratification as well as of amusement, and part of the
+gratification sprang from a real kindliness of heart--for Grobstock
+was an easy-going man with whom the world had gone easy. The
+_Schnorrers_ were exhausted before the packets, but the philanthropist
+was in no anxiety to be rid of the remnant. Closing the mouth of the
+considerably lightened bag and clutching it tightly by the throat, and
+recomposing his face to gravity, he moved slowly down the street like
+a stately treasure-ship flecked by the sunlight. His way led towards
+Goodman's Fields, where his mansion was situate, and he knew that the
+fine weather would bring out _Schnorrers_ enough. And, indeed, he had
+not gone many paces before he met a figure he did not remember having
+seen before.
+
+Leaning against a post at the head of the narrow passage which led to
+Bevis Marks was a tall, black-bearded, turbaned personage, a first
+glance at whom showed him of the true tribe. Mechanically Joseph
+Grobstock's hand went to the lucky-bag, and he drew out a
+neatly-folded packet and tendered it to the stranger.
+
+The stranger received the gift graciously, and opened it gravely, the
+philanthropist loitering awkwardly to mark the issue. Suddenly the
+dark face became a thunder-cloud, the eyes flashed lightning.
+
+"An evil spirit in your ancestors' bones!" hissed the stranger, from
+between his flashing teeth. "Did you come here to insult me?"
+
+"Pardon, a thousand pardons!" stammered the magnate, wholly taken
+aback. "I fancied you were a--a--a--poor man."
+
+"And, therefore, you came to insult me!"
+
+"No, no, I thought to help you," murmured Grobstock, turning from red
+to scarlet. Was it possible he had foisted his charity upon an
+undeserving millionaire? No! Through all the clouds of his own
+confusion and the recipient's anger, the figure of a _Schnorrer_
+loomed too plain for mistake. None but a _Schnorrer_ would wear a
+home-made turban, issue of a black cap crossed with a white kerchief;
+none but a _Schnorrer_ would unbutton the first nine buttons of his
+waistcoat, or, if this relaxation were due to the warmth of the
+weather, counteract it by wearing an over-garment, especially one as
+heavy as a blanket, with buttons the size of compasses and flaps
+reaching nearly to his shoe-buckles, even though its length were only
+congruous with that of his undercoat, which already reached the
+bottoms of his knee-breeches. Finally, who but a _Schnorrer_ would
+wear this overcoat cloak-wise, with dangling sleeves, full of armless
+suggestion from a side view? Quite apart from the shabbiness of the
+snuff-coloured fabric, it was amply evident that the wearer did not
+dress by rule or measure. Yet the disproportions of his attire did but
+enhance the picturesqueness of a personality that would be striking
+even in a bath, though it was not likely to be seen there. The beard
+was jet black, sweeping and unkempt, and ran up his cheeks to meet the
+raven hair, so that the vivid face was framed in black; it was a long,
+tapering face with sanguine lips gleaming at the heart of a black
+bush; the eyes were large and lambent, set in deep sockets under black
+arching eyebrows; the nose was long and Coptic; the brow low but
+broad, with straggling wisps of hair protruding from beneath the
+turban. His right hand grasped a plain ashen staff.
+
+Worthy Joseph Grobstock found the figure of the mendicant only too
+impressive; he shrank uneasily before the indignant eyes.
+
+"I meant to help you," he repeated.
+
+"And this is how one helps a brother in Israel?" said the
+_Schnorrer_, throwing the paper contemptuously into the
+philanthropist's face. It struck him on the bridge of the nose, but
+impinged so mildly that he felt at once what was the matter. The
+packet was empty--the _Schnorrer_ had drawn a blank; the only one the
+good-natured man had put into the bag.
+
+[Illustration: "IT STRUCK HIM ON THE BRIDGE OF THE NOSE."]
+
+The _Schnorrer's_ audacity sobered Joseph Grobstock completely; it
+might have angered him to chastise the fellow, but it did not. His
+better nature prevailed; he began to feel shamefaced, fumbled
+sheepishly in his pocket for a crown; then hesitated, as fearing this
+peace-offering would not altogether suffice with so rare a spirit, and
+that he owed the stranger more than silver--an apology to wit. He
+proceeded honestly to pay it, but with a maladroit manner, as one
+unaccustomed to the currency.
+
+"You are an impertinent rascal," he said, "but I daresay you feel
+hurt. Let me assure you I did not know there was nothing in the
+packet. I did not, indeed."
+
+"Then your steward has robbed me!" exclaimed the _Schnorrer_
+excitedly. "You let him make up the packets, and he has stolen my
+money--the thief, the transgressor, thrice-cursed who robs the poor."
+
+"You don't understand," interrupted the magnate meekly. "I made up the
+packets myself."
+
+"Then, why do you say you did not know what was in them? Go, you mock
+my misery!"
+
+"Nay, hear me out!" urged Grobstock desperately. "In some I placed
+gold, in the greater number silver, in a few copper, in one
+alone--nothing. That is the one you have drawn. It is your
+misfortune."
+
+"_My_ misfortune!" echoed the _Schnorrer_ scornfully. "It is _your_
+misfortune--I did not even draw it. The Holy One, blessed be He, has
+punished you for your heartless jesting with the poor--making a
+sport for yourself of their misfortunes, even as the Philistines
+sported with Samson. The good deed you might have put to your account
+by a gratuity to me, God has taken from you. He has declared you
+unworthy of achieving righteousness through me. Go your way,
+murderer!"
+
+"Murderer!" repeated the philanthropist, bewildered by this harsh view
+of his action.
+
+"Yes, murderer! Stands it not in the Talmud that he who shames another
+is as one who spills his blood? And have you not put me to shame--if
+anyone had witnessed your almsgiving, would he not have laughed in my
+beard?"
+
+The pillar of the Synagogue felt as if his paunch were shrinking.
+
+"But the others--" he murmured deprecatingly. "I have not shed their
+blood--have I not given freely of my hard-earned gold?"
+
+"For your own diversion," retorted the _Schnorrer_ implacably. "But
+what says the Midrash? There is a wheel rolling in the world--not he
+who is rich to-day is rich to-morrow, but this one He brings up, and
+this one He brings down, as is said in the seventy-fifth Psalm.
+Therefore, lift not up your horn on high, nor speak with a stiff
+neck."
+
+He towered above the unhappy capitalist, like an ancient prophet
+denouncing a swollen monarch. The poor man put his hand involuntarily
+to his high collar as if to explain away his apparent arrogance, but
+in reality because he was not breathing easily under the _Schnorrer's_
+attack.
+
+"You are an uncharitable man," he panted hotly, driven to a line of
+defence he had not anticipated. "I did it not from wantonness, but
+from faith in Heaven. I know well that God sits turning a
+wheel--therefore I did not presume to turn it myself. Did I not let
+Providence select who should have the silver and who the gold, who the
+copper and who the emptiness? Besides, God alone knows who really
+needs my assistance--I have made Him my almoner; I have cast my burden
+on the Lord."
+
+"Epicurean!" shrieked the _Schnorrer_. "Blasphemer! Is it thus you
+would palter with the sacred texts? Do you forget what the next verse
+says: 'Bloodthirsty and deceitful men shall not live out half their
+days'? Shame on you--you a _Gabbai_ (treasurer) of the Great
+Synagogue. You see I know you, Joseph Grobstock. Has not the beadle of
+your Synagogue boasted to me that you have given him a guinea for
+brushing your spatterdashes? Would you think of offering _him_ a
+packet? Nay, it is the poor that are trodden on--they whose merits are
+in excess of those of beadles. But the Lord will find others to take
+up his loans--for he who hath pity on the poor lendeth to the Lord.
+You are no true son of Israel."
+
+The _Schnorrer's_ tirade was long enough to allow Grobstock to recover
+his dignity and his breath.
+
+"If you really knew me, you would know that the Lord is considerably
+in my debt," he rejoined quietly. "When next you would discuss me,
+speak with the Psalms-men, not the beadle. Never have I neglected the
+needy. Even now, though you have been insolent and uncharitable, I am
+ready to befriend you if you are in want."
+
+"If I am in want!" repeated the _Schnorrer_ scornfully. "Is there
+anything I do not want?"
+
+"You are married?"
+
+"You correct me--wife and children are the only things I do _not_
+lack."
+
+"No pauper does," quoth Grobstock, with a twinkle of restored humour.
+
+"No," assented the _Schnorrer_ sternly. "The poor man has the fear of
+Heaven. He obeys the Law and the Commandments. He marries while he is
+young--and his spouse is not cursed with barrenness. It is the rich
+man who transgresses the Judgment, who delays to come under the
+Canopy."
+
+"Ah! well, here is a guinea--in the name of my wife," broke
+in Grobstock laughingly. "Or stay--since you do not brush
+spatterdashes--here is another."
+
+"In the name of my wife," rejoined the _Schnorrer_ with dignity, "I
+thank you."
+
+"Thank me in your own name," said Grobstock. "I mean tell it me."
+
+"I am Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa," he answered simply.
+
+"A Sephardi!" exclaimed the philanthropist.
+
+"Is it not written on my face, even as it is written on yours that you
+are a Tedesco? It is the first time that I have taken gold from one of
+your lineage."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" murmured Grobstock, beginning to feel small again.
+
+"Yes--are we not far richer than your community? What need have I to
+take the good deeds away from my own people--they have too few
+opportunities for beneficence as it is, being so many of them wealthy;
+brokers and West India merchants, and--"
+
+"But I, too, am a financier, and an East India Director," Grobstock
+reminded him.
+
+"Maybe; but your community is yet young and struggling--your rich men
+are as the good men in Sodom for multitude. You are the immigrants of
+yesterday--refugees from the Ghettoes of Russia and Poland and
+Germany. But we, as you are aware, have been established here for
+generations; in the Peninsula our ancestors graced the courts of
+kings, and controlled the purse-strings of princes; in Holland we held
+the empery of trade. Ours have been the poets and scholars in Israel.
+You cannot expect that we should recognise your rabble, which
+prejudices us in the eyes of England. We made the name of Jew
+honourable; you degrade it. You are as the mixed multitude which came
+up with our forefathers out of Egypt."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Grobstock sharply. "All Israel are brethren."
+
+"Esau was the brother of Israel," answered Manasseh sententiously.
+"But you will excuse me if I go a-marketing, it is such a pleasure to
+handle gold." There was a note of wistful pathos in the latter remark
+which took off the edge of the former, and touched Joseph with
+compunction for bandying words with a hungry man whose loved ones were
+probably starving patiently at home.
+
+"Certainly, haste away," he said kindly.
+
+"I shall see you again," said Manasseh, with a valedictory wave of his
+hand, and digging his staff into the cobblestones he journeyed
+forwards without bestowing a single backward glance upon his
+benefactor.
+
+Grobstock's road took him to Petticoat Lane in the wake of Manasseh.
+He had no intention of following him, but did not see why he should
+change his route for fear of the _Schnorrer_, more especially as
+Manasseh did not look back. By this time he had become conscious again
+of the bag he carried, but he had no heart to proceed with the fun. He
+felt conscience stricken, and had recourse to his pockets instead in
+his progress through the narrow jostling market-street, where he
+scarcely ever bought anything personally save fish and good deeds. He
+was a connoisseur in both. To-day he picked up many a good deed cheap,
+paying pennies for articles he did not take away--shoe-latchets and
+cane-strings, barley-sugar and butter-cakes. Suddenly, through a chink
+in an opaque mass of human beings, he caught sight of a small
+attractive salmon on a fishmonger's slab. His eye glittered, his chops
+watered. He elbowed his way to the vendor, whose eye caught a
+corresponding gleam, and whose finger went to his hat in respectful
+greeting.
+
+"Good afternoon, Jonathan," said Grobstock jovially, "I'll take that
+salmon there--how much?"
+
+"Pardon me," said a voice in the crowd, "I am just bargaining for it."
+
+Grobstock started. It was the voice of Manasseh.
+
+"Stop that nonsense, da Costa," responded the fishmonger. "You know
+you won't give me my price. It is the only one I have left," he added,
+half for the benefit of Grobstock. "I couldn't let it go under a
+couple of guineas."
+
+"Here's your money," cried Manasseh with passionate contempt, and sent
+two golden coins spinning musically upon the slab.
+
+In the crowd sensation, in Grobstock's breast astonishment,
+indignation, and bitterness. He was struck momentarily dumb. His face
+purpled. The scales of the salmon shone like a celestial vision that
+was fading from him by his own stupidity.
+
+"I'll take that salmon, Jonathan," he repeated, spluttering. "Three
+guineas."
+
+"Pardon me," repeated Manasseh, "it is too late. This is not an
+auction." He seized the fish by the tail.
+
+Grobstock turned upon him, goaded to the point of apoplexy. "You!" he
+cried. "You--you--rogue! How dare you buy salmon!"
+
+[Illustration: "'YOU ROGUE! HOW DARE YOU BUY SALMON!'"]
+
+"Rogue yourself!" retorted Manasseh. "Would you have me steal
+salmon?"
+
+"You have stolen my money, knave, rascal!"
+
+"Murderer! Shedder of blood! Did you not give me the money as a
+free-will offering, for the good of your wife's soul? I call on you
+before all these witnesses to confess yourself a slanderer!"
+
+"Slanderer, indeed! I repeat, you are a knave and a jackanapes. You--a
+pauper--a beggar--with a wife and children. How can you have the face
+to go and spend two guineas--two whole guineas--all you have in the
+world--on a mere luxury like salmon?"
+
+Manasseh elevated his arched eyebrows.
+
+"If I do not buy salmon when I have two guineas," he answered quietly,
+"when shall I buy salmon? As you say, it is a luxury; very dear. It is
+only on rare occasions like this that my means run to it." There was a
+dignified pathos about the rebuke that mollified the magnate. He felt
+that there was reason in the beggar's point of view--though it was a
+point to which he would never himself have risen, unaided. But
+righteous anger still simmered in him; he felt vaguely that there was
+something to be said in reply, though he also felt that even if he
+knew what it was, it would have to be said in a lower key to
+correspond with Manasseh's transition from the high pitch of the
+opening passages. Not finding the requisite repartee he was silent.
+
+"In the name of my wife," went on Manasseh, swinging the salmon by the
+tail, "I ask you to clear my good name which you have bespattered in
+the presence of my very tradesmen. Again I call upon you to confess
+before these witnesses that you gave me the money yourself in charity.
+Come! Do you deny it?"
+
+"No, I don't deny it," murmured Grobstock, unable to understand why he
+appeared to himself like a whipped cur, or how what should have been a
+boast had been transformed into an apology to a beggar.
+
+"In the name of my wife, I thank you," said Manasseh. "She loves
+salmon, and fries with unction. And now, since you have no further use
+for that bag of yours, I will relieve you of its burden by taking my
+salmon home in it." He took the canvas bag from the limp grasp of the
+astonished Tedesco, and dropped the fish in. The head protruded,
+surveying the scene with a cold, glassy, ironical eye.
+
+[Illustration: "THE HEAD PROTRUDED."]
+
+"Good afternoon all," said the _Schnorrer_ courteously.
+
+"One moment," called out the philanthropist, when he found his tongue.
+"The bag is not empty--there are a number of packets still left in
+it."
+
+"So much the better!" said Manasseh soothingly. "You will be saved
+from the temptation to continue shedding the blood of the poor, and I
+shall be saved from spending _all_ your bounty upon salmon--an
+extravagance you were right to deplore."
+
+"But--but!" began Grobstock.
+
+"No--no 'buts,'" protested Manasseh, waving his bag deprecatingly.
+"You were right. You admitted you were wrong before; shall I be less
+magnanimous now? In the presence of all these witnesses I acknowledge
+the justice of your rebuke. I ought not to have wasted two guineas on
+one fish. It was not worth it. Come over here, and I will tell you
+something." He walked out of earshot of the by-standers, turning down
+a side alley opposite the stall, and beckoned with his salmon bag. The
+East India Director had no course but to obey. He would probably have
+followed him in any case, to have it out with him, but now he had a
+humiliating sense of being at the _Schnorrer's_ beck and call.
+
+"Well, what more have you to say?" he demanded gruffly.
+
+"I wish to save you money in future," said the beggar in low,
+confidential tones. "That Jonathan is a son of the separation! The
+salmon is not worth two guineas--no, on my soul! If you had not come
+up I should have got it for twenty-five shillings. Jonathan stuck on
+the price when he thought you would buy. I trust you will not let me
+be the loser by your arrival, and that if I should find less than
+seventeen shillings in the bag you will make it up to me."
+
+The bewildered financier felt his grievance disappearing as by sleight
+of hand.
+
+Manasseh added winningly: "I know you are a gentleman, capable of
+behaving as finely as any Sephardi."
+
+This handsome compliment completed the _Schnorrer's_ victory, which
+was sealed by his saying, "And so I should not like you to have it on
+your soul that you had done a poor man out of a few shillings."
+
+Grobstock could only remark meekly: "You will find more than seventeen
+shillings in the bag."
+
+"Ah, why were you born a Tedesco!" cried Manasseh ecstatically. "Do
+you know what I have a mind to do? To come and be your Sabbath-guest!
+Yes, I will take supper with you next Friday, and we will welcome the
+Bride--the holy Sabbath--together! Never before have I sat at the
+table of a Tedesco--but you--you are a man after my own heart. Your
+soul is a son of Spain. Next Friday at six--do not forget."
+
+"But--but I do not have Sabbath-guests," faltered Grobstock.
+
+"Not have Sabbath-guests! No, no, I will not believe you are of the
+sons of Belial, whose table is spread only for the rich, who do not
+proclaim your equality with the poor even once a week. It is your fine
+nature that would hide its benefactions. Do not I, Manasseh Bueno
+Barzillai Azevedo da Costa, have at my Sabbath-table every week
+Yankele ben Yitzchok--a Pole? And if I have a Tedesco at my table, why
+should I draw the line there? Why should I not permit you, a Tedesco,
+to return the hospitality to me, a Sephardi? At six, then! I know your
+house well--it is an elegant building that does credit to your
+taste--do not be uneasy--I shall not fail to be punctual. _A Dios!_"
+
+This time he waved his stick fraternally, and stalked down a turning.
+For an instant Grobstock stood glued to the spot, crushed by a sense
+of the inevitable. Then a horrible thought occurred to him.
+
+[Illustration: "WAVED HIS STICK FRATERNALLY."]
+
+Easy-going man as he was, he might put up with the visitation of
+Manasseh. But then he had a wife, and, what was worse, a livery
+servant. How could he expect a livery servant to tolerate such a
+guest? He might fly from the town on Friday evening, but that would
+necessitate troublesome explanations. And Manasseh would come again
+the next Friday. That was certain. Manasseh would be like grim
+death--his coming, though it might be postponed, was inevitable. Oh,
+it was too terrible. At all costs he must revoke the invitation(?).
+Placed between Scylla and Charybdis, between Manasseh and his
+manservant, he felt he could sooner face the former.
+
+"Da Costa!" he called in agony. "Da Costa!"
+
+The _Schnorrer_ turned, and then Grobstock found he was mistaken in
+imagining he preferred to face da Costa.
+
+"You called me?" enquired the beggar.
+
+"Ye--e--s," faltered the East India Director, and stood paralysed.
+
+"What can I do for you?" said Manasseh graciously.
+
+"Would you mind--very much--if I--if I asked you--"
+
+"Not to come," was in his throat, but stuck there.
+
+"If you asked me--" said Manasseh encouragingly.
+
+"To accept some of my clothes," flashed Grobstock, with a sudden
+inspiration. After all, Manasseh was a fine figure of a man. If he
+could get him to doff those musty garments of his he might almost pass
+him off as a prince of the blood, foreign by his beard--at any rate he
+could be certain of making him acceptable to the livery servant. He
+breathed freely again at this happy solution of the situation.
+
+"Your cast-off clothes?" asked Manasseh. Grobstock was not sure
+whether the tone was supercilious or eager. He hastened to explain.
+"No, not quite that. Second-hand things I am still wearing. My old
+clothes were already given away at Passover to Simeon the Psalms-man.
+These are comparatively new."
+
+"Then I would beg you to excuse me," said Manasseh, with a stately
+wave of the bag.
+
+"Oh, but why not?" murmured Grobstock, his blood running cold again.
+
+"I cannot," said Manasseh, shaking his head.
+
+"But they will just about fit you," pleaded the philanthropist.
+
+"That makes it all the more absurd for you to give them to Simeon the
+Psalms-man," said Manasseh sternly. "Still, since he is your
+clothes-receiver, I could not think of interfering with his office. It
+is not etiquette. I am surprised you should ask me if I should mind.
+Of course I should mind--I should mind very much."
+
+"But he is not my clothes-receiver," protested Grobstock. "Last
+Passover was the first time I gave them to him, because my cousin,
+Hyam Rosenstein, who used to have them, has died."
+
+"But surely he considers himself your cousin's heir," said Manasseh.
+"He expects all your old clothes henceforth."
+
+"No. I gave him no such promise."
+
+Manasseh hesitated.
+
+"Well, in that case--"
+
+"In that case," repeated Grobstock breathlessly.
+
+"On condition that I am to have the appointment permanently, of
+course."
+
+"Of course," echoed Grobstock eagerly.
+
+"Because you see," Manasseh condescended to explain, "it hurts one's
+reputation to lose a client."
+
+"Yes, yes, naturally," said Grobstock soothingly. "I quite
+understand." Then, feeling himself slipping into future
+embarrassments, he added timidly, "Of course they will not always be
+so good as the first lot, because--"
+
+"Say no more," Manasseh interrupted reassuringly, "I will come at once
+and fetch them."
+
+"No. I will send them," cried Grobstock, horrified afresh.
+
+"I could not dream of permitting it. What! Shall I put you to all that
+trouble which should rightly be mine? I will go at once--the matter
+shall be settled without delay, I promise you; as it is written, 'I
+made haste and delayed not!' Follow me!" Grobstock suppressed a groan.
+Here had all his manoeuvring landed him in a worse plight than ever.
+He would have to present Manasseh to the livery servant without even
+that clean face which might not unreasonably have been expected for
+the Sabbath. Despite the text quoted by the erudite _Schnorrer_, he
+strove to put off the evil hour.
+
+"Had you not better take the salmon home to your wife first?" said he.
+
+"My duty is to enable you to complete your good deed at once. My wife
+is unaware of the salmon. She is in no suspense."
+
+Even as the _Schnorrer_ spake it flashed upon Grobstock that Manasseh
+was more presentable with the salmon than without it--in fact, that
+the salmon was the salvation of the situation. When Grobstock bought
+fish he often hired a man to carry home the spoil. Manasseh would have
+all the air of such a loafer. Who would suspect that the fish and even
+the bag belonged to the porter, though purchased with the gentleman's
+money? Grobstock silently thanked Providence for the ingenious way in
+which it had contrived to save his self-respect. As a mere
+fish-carrier Manasseh would attract no second glance from the
+household; once safely in, it would be comparatively easy to smuggle
+him out, and when he did come on Friday night it would be in the
+metamorphosing glories of a body-coat, with his unspeakable
+undergarment turned into a shirt and his turban knocked into a cocked
+hat.
+
+They emerged into Aldgate, and then turned down Leman Street, a
+fashionable quarter, and so into Great Prescott Street. At the
+critical street corner Grobstock's composure began to desert him: he
+took out his handsomely ornamented snuff-box and administered to
+himself a mighty pinch. It did him good, and he walked on and was well
+nigh arrived at his own door when Manasseh suddenly caught him by a
+coat button.
+
+[Illustration: "ADMINISTERED A MIGHTY PINCH."]
+
+"Stand still a second," he cried imperatively.
+
+"What is it?" murmured Grobstock, in alarm.
+
+"You have spilt snuff all down your coat front," Manasseh replied
+severely. "Hold the bag a moment while I brush it off."
+
+Joseph obeyed, and Manasseh scrupulously removed every particle with
+such patience that Grobstock's was exhausted.
+
+"Thank you," he said at last, as politely as he could. "That will do."
+
+"No, it will not do," replied Manasseh. "I cannot have my coat
+spoiled. By the time it comes to me it will be a mass of stains if I
+don't look after it."
+
+"Oh, is that why you took so much trouble?" said Grobstock, with an
+uneasy laugh.
+
+"Why else? Do you take me for a beadle, a brusher of gaiters?"
+enquired Manasseh haughtily. "There now! that is the cleanest I can
+get it. You would escape these droppings if you held your snuff-box
+so--" Manasseh gently took the snuff-box and began to explain, walking
+on a few paces.
+
+"Ah, we are at home!" he cried, breaking off the object-lesson
+suddenly. He pushed open the gate, ran up the steps of the mansion and
+knocked thunderously, then snuffed himself magnificently from the
+bejewelled snuff-box.
+
+Behind came Joseph Grobstock, slouching limply, and carrying Manasseh
+da Costa's fish.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE KING REIGNED.
+
+When he realised that he had been turned into a fish-porter, the
+financier hastened up the steps so as to be at the _Schnorrer's_ side
+when the door opened.
+
+The livery-servant was visibly taken aback by the spectacle of their
+juxtaposition.
+
+"This salmon to the cook!" cried Grobstock desperately, handing him
+the bag.
+
+[Illustration: "'THIS SALMON TO THE COOK!'"]
+
+Da Costa looked thunders, and was about to speak, but Grobstock's eye
+sought his in frantic appeal. "Wait a minute; I will settle with you,"
+he cried, congratulating himself on a phrase that would carry another
+meaning to Wilkinson's ears. He drew a breath of relief when the
+flunkey disappeared, and left them standing in the spacious hall with
+its statues and plants.
+
+"Is this the way you steal my salmon, after all?" demanded da Costa
+hotly.
+
+"Hush, hush! I didn't mean to steal it! I will pay you for it!"
+
+"I refuse to sell! You coveted it from the first--you have broken the
+Tenth Commandment, even as these stone figures violate the Second.
+Your invitation to me to accompany you here at once was a mere trick.
+Now I understand why you were so eager."
+
+"No, no, da Costa. Seeing that you placed the fish in my hands, I had
+no option but to give it to Wilkinson, because--because--" Grobstock
+would have had some difficulty in explaining, but Manasseh saved him
+the pain.
+
+"You had to give _my_ fish to Wilkinson!" he interrupted. "Sir, I
+thought you were a fine man, a man of honour. I admit that I placed my
+fish in your hands. But because I had no hesitation in allowing you to
+carry it, this is how you repay my confidence!"
+
+In the whirl of his thoughts Grobstock grasped at the word "repay" as
+a swimmer in a whirlpool grasps at a straw.
+
+"I will repay your money!" he cried. "Here are your two guineas. You
+will get another salmon, and more cheaply. As you pointed out, you
+could have got this for twenty-five shillings."
+
+"Two guineas!" ejaculated Manasseh contemptuously. "Why you offered
+Jonathan, the fishmonger, three!"
+
+Grobstock was astounded, but it was beneath him to bargain. And he
+remembered that, after all, he _would_ enjoy the salmon.
+
+"Well, here are three guineas," he said pacifically, offering them.
+
+"Three guineas!" echoed Manasseh, spurning them. "And what of my
+profit?"
+
+"Profit!" gasped Grobstock.
+
+"Since you have made me a middle-man, since you have forced me into
+the fish trade, I must have my profits like anybody else."
+
+"Here is a crown extra!"
+
+"And my compensation?"
+
+"What do you mean?" enquired Grobstock, exasperated. "Compensation for
+what?"
+
+"For what? For two things at the very least," Manasseh said
+unswervingly. "In the first place," and as he began his logically
+divided reply his tone assumed the sing-song sacred to Talmudical
+dialectics, "compensation for not eating the salmon myself. For it is
+not as if I offered it you--I merely entrusted it to you, and it is
+ordained in Exodus that if a man shall deliver unto his neighbour an
+ass, or an ox, or a sheep, or any beast to keep, then for every matter
+of trespass, whether it be for ox, for ass, for sheep, for raiment, or
+for any manner of lost thing, the man shall receive double, and
+therefore you should pay me six guineas. And secondly--"
+
+"Not another farthing!" spluttered Grobstock, red as a turkey-cock.
+
+"Very well," said the _Schnorrer_ imperturbably, and, lifting up his
+voice, he called "Wilkinson!"
+
+"Hush!" commanded Grobstock. "What are you doing?"
+
+"I will tell Wilkinson to bring back my property."
+
+"Wilkinson will not obey you."
+
+"Not obey _me_! A servant! Why he is not even black! All the Sephardim
+I visit have black pages--much grander than Wilkinson--and they
+tremble at my nod. At Baron D'Aguilar's mansion in Broad Street
+Buildings there is a retinue of twenty-four servants, and they--"
+
+"And what is your second claim?"
+
+"Compensation for being degraded to fishmongering. I am not of those
+who sell things in the streets. I am a son of the Law, a student of
+the Talmud."
+
+"If a crown piece will satisfy each of these claims--"
+
+"I am not a blood-sucker--as it is said in the Talmud, Tractate
+Passover, 'God loves the man who gives not way to wrath nor stickles
+for his rights'--that makes altogether three guineas and three
+crowns."
+
+"Yes. Here they are."
+
+Wilkinson reappeared. "You called me, sir?" he said.
+
+"No, _I_ called you," said Manasseh, "I wished to give you a crown."
+
+And he handed him one of the three. Wilkinson took it, stupefied, and
+retired.
+
+"Did I not get rid of him cleverly?" said Manasseh. "You see how he
+obeys me!"
+
+"Ye-es."
+
+"I shall not ask you for more than the bare crown I gave him to save
+your honour."
+
+"To save my honour!"
+
+"Would you have had me tell him the real reason I called him was that
+his master was a thief? No, sir, I was careful not to shed your blood
+in public, though you had no such care for mine."
+
+"Here is the crown!" said Grobstock savagely. "Nay, here are three!"
+He turned out his breeches-pockets to exhibit their absolute nudity.
+
+"No, no," said Manasseh mildly, "I shall take but two. You had best
+keep the other--you may want a little silver." He pressed it into the
+magnate's hand.
+
+"You should not be so prodigal in future," he added, in kindly
+reproach. "It is bad to be left with nothing in one's pocket--I know
+the feeling, and can sympathise with you." Grobstock stood speechless,
+clasping the crown of charity.
+
+Standing thus at the hall door, he had the air of Wilkinson, surprised
+by a too generous vail.
+
+Da Costa cut short the crisis by offering his host a pinch from the
+jewel-crusted snuff-box. Grobstock greedily took the whole box, the
+beggar resigning it to him without protest. In his gratitude for this
+unexpected favour, Grobstock pocketed the silver insult without
+further ado, and led the way towards the second-hand clothes. He
+walked gingerly, so as not to awaken his wife, who was a great amateur
+of the siesta, and might issue suddenly from her apartment like a
+spider, but Manasseh stolidly thumped on the stairs with his staff.
+Happily the carpet was thick.
+
+The clothes hung in a mahogany wardrobe with a plateglass front in
+Grobstock's elegantly appointed bedchamber.
+
+Grobstock rummaged among them while Manasseh, parting the white
+Persian curtains lined with pale pink, gazed out of the window towards
+the Tenterground that stretched in the rear of the mansion. Leaning on
+his staff, he watched the couples promenading among the sunlit
+parterres and amid the shrubberies, in the cool freshness of declining
+day. Here and there the vivid face of a dark-eyed beauty gleamed like
+a passion-flower. Manasseh surveyed the scene with bland benevolence;
+at peace with God and man.
+
+[Illustration: "GROBSTOCK RUMMAGED AMONG THEM."]
+
+He did not deign to bestow a glance upon the garments till Grobstock
+observed: "There! I think that's all I can spare." Then he turned
+leisurely and regarded--with the same benign aspect--the litter
+Grobstock had spread upon the bed--a medley of articles in excellent
+condition, gorgeous neckerchiefs piled in three-cornered hats, and
+buckled shoes trampling on white waistcoats. But his eye had scarcely
+rested on them a quarter of a minute when a sudden flash came into it,
+and a spasm crossed his face.
+
+"Excuse me!" he cried, and hastened towards the door.
+
+"What's the matter?" exclaimed Grobstock, in astonished apprehension.
+Was his gift to be flouted thus?
+
+"I'll be back in a moment," said Manasseh, and hurried down the
+stairs.
+
+Relieved on one point, Grobstock was still full of vague alarms. He
+ran out on the landing. "What do you want?" he called down as loudly
+as he dared.
+
+"My money!" said Manasseh.
+
+Imagining that the _Schnorrer_ had left the proceeds of the sale of
+the salmon in the hall, Joseph Grobstock returned to his room, and
+occupied himself half-mechanically in sorting the garments he had
+thrown higgledy-piggledy upon the bed. In so doing he espied amid the
+heap a pair of pantaloons entirely new and unworn which he had
+carelessly thrown in. It was while replacing this in the wardrobe that
+he heard sounds of objurgation. The cook's voice--Hibernian and
+high-pitched--travelled unmistakably to his ears, and brought fresh
+trepidation to his heart. He repaired to the landing again, and craned
+his neck over the balustrade. Happily the sounds were evanescent; in
+another minute Manasseh's head reappeared, mounting. When his left
+hand came in sight, Grobstock perceived it was grasping the lucky-bag
+with which a certain philanthropist had started out so joyously that
+afternoon. The unlucky-bag he felt inclined to dub it now.
+
+"I have recovered it!" observed the _Schnorrer_ cheerfully. "As it is
+written, 'And David recovered all that the Amalekites had taken.' You
+see in the excitement of the moment I did not notice that you had
+stolen my packets of silver as well as my salmon. Luckily your cook
+had not yet removed the fish from the bag--I chid her all the same for
+neglecting to put it into water, and she opened her mouth not in
+wisdom. If she had not been a heathen I should have suspected her of
+trickery, for I knew nothing of the amount of money in the bag, saving
+your assurance that it did not fall below seventeen shillings, and it
+would have been easy for her to replace the fish. Therefore, in the
+words of David, will I give thanks unto Thee, O Lord, among the
+heathen."
+
+The mental vision of the irruption of Manasseh into the kitchen was
+not pleasant to Grobstock. However, he only murmured: "How came you to
+think of it so suddenly?"
+
+"Looking at your clothes reminded me. I was wondering if you had left
+anything in the pockets."
+
+The donor started--he knew himself a careless rascal--and made as if
+he would overhaul his garments. The glitter in Manasseh's eye
+petrified him.
+
+"Do you--do you--mind my looking?" he stammered apologetically.
+
+"Am I a dog?" quoted the _Schnorrer_ with dignity. "Am I a thief that
+you should go over my pockets? If, when I get home," he conceded,
+commencing to draw distinctions with his thumb, "I should find
+anything in my pockets that is of no value to anybody but you, do you
+fear I will not return it? If, on the other hand, I find anything that
+is of value to me, do you fear I will not keep it?"
+
+"No, but--but--" Grobstock broke down, scarcely grasping the
+argumentation despite his own clarity of financial insight; he only
+felt vaguely that the _Schnorrer_ was--professionally enough--begging
+the question.
+
+"But what?" enquired Manasseh. "Surely you need not me to teach you
+your duty. You cannot be ignorant of the Law of Moses on the point."
+
+"The Law of Moses says nothing on the point!"
+
+"Indeed! What says Deuteronomy? 'When thou reapest thine harvest in
+thy field, and hast forgot a sheaf in the field, thou shalt not go
+again to fetch it: it shall be for the stranger, for the fatherless,
+and for the widow.' Is it not further forbidden to go over the boughs
+of thy olive-tree again, or to gather the fallen fruit of thy
+vineyard? You will admit that Moses would have added a prohibition
+against searching minutely the pockets of cast-off garments, were it
+not that for forty years our ancestors had to wander in the wilderness
+in the same clothes, which miraculously waxed with their growth. No, I
+feel sure you will respect the spirit of the law, for when I went down
+into your kitchen and examined the door-post to see if you had nailed
+up a _mezuzah_ upon it, knowing that many Jews only flaunt _mezuzahs_
+on door-posts visible to visitors, it rejoiced me to find one below
+stairs."
+
+Grobstock's magnanimity responded to the appeal. It would be indeed
+petty to scrutinise his pockets, or to feel the linings for odd coins.
+After all he had Manasseh's promise to restore papers and everything
+of no value.
+
+"Well, well," he said pleasantly, consoled by the thought his troubles
+had now come to an end--for that day at least--"take them away as they
+are."
+
+"It is all very well to say take them away," replied Manasseh, with a
+touch of resentment, "but what am I to take them in?"
+
+"Oh--ah--yes! There must be a sack somewhere--"
+
+"And do you think I would carry them away in a sack? Would you have me
+look like an old clo' man? I must have a box. I see several in the
+box-room."
+
+"Very well," said Grobstock resignedly. "If there's an empty one you
+may have it."
+
+Manasseh laid his stick on the dressing-table and carefully examined
+the boxes, some of which were carelessly open, while every lock had a
+key sticking in it. They had travelled far and wide with Grobstock,
+who invariably combined pleasure with business.
+
+[Illustration: "MANASSEH CAREFULLY EXAMINED THE BOXES."]
+
+"There is none quite empty," announced the _Schnorrer_, "but in this
+one there are only a few trifles--a pair of galligaskins and such
+like--so that if you make me a present of them the box _will_ be
+empty, so far as you are concerned."
+
+"All right," said Grobstock, and actually laughed. The nearer the
+departure of the _Schnorrer_, the higher his spirits rose.
+
+Manasseh dragged the box towards the bed, and then for the first time
+since his return from the under-regions, surveyed the medley of
+garments upon it.
+
+The light-hearted philanthropist, watching his face, saw it instantly
+change to darkness, like a tropical landscape. His own face grew
+white. The _Schnorrer_ uttered an inarticulate cry, and turned a
+strange, questioning glance upon his patron.
+
+"What is it now?" faltered Grobstock.
+
+"I miss a pair of pantaloons!"
+
+[Illustration: "'I MISS A PAIR OF PANTALOONS!' HE SHRIEKED."]
+
+Grobstock grew whiter. "Nonsense! nonsense!" he muttered.
+
+"I--miss--a--pair--of--pantaloons!" reiterated the _Schnorrer_
+deliberately.
+
+"Oh, no--you have all I can spare there," said Grobstock uneasily. The
+_Schnorrer_ hastily turned over the heap.
+
+Then his eye flashed fire; he banged his fist on the dressing-table to
+accompany each _staccato_ syllable.
+
+"I--miss--a--pair--of--pan--ta--loons!" he shrieked.
+
+The weak and ductile donor had a bad quarter of a minute.
+
+"Perhaps," he stammered at last, "you--m--mean--the new pair I found
+had got accidentally mixed up with them."
+
+"Of course I mean the new pair! And so you took them away! Just
+because I wasn't looking. I left the room, thinking I had to do with a
+man of honour. If you had taken an old pair I shouldn't have minded so
+much; but to rob a poor man of his brand-new breeches!"
+
+"I must have them," cried Grobstock irascibly. "I have to go to a
+reception to-morrow, and they are the only pair I shall have to wear.
+You see I--"
+
+"Oh, very well," interrupted the _Schnorrer_, in low, indifferent
+tones.
+
+After that there was a dead silence. The _Schnorrer_ majestically
+folded some silk stockings and laid them in the box. Upon them he
+packed other garments in stern, sorrowful _hauteur_. Grobstock's soul
+began to tingle with pricks of compunction. Da Costa completed his
+task, but could not shut the overcrowded box. Grobstock silently
+seated his weighty person upon the lid. Manasseh neither resented nor
+welcomed him. When he had turned the key he mutely tilted the sitter
+off the box and shouldered it with consummate ease. Then he took his
+staff and strode from the room. Grobstock would have followed him, but
+the _Schnorrer_ waved him back.
+
+[Illustration: "TILTED THE SITTER OFF THE BOX."]
+
+"On Friday, then," the conscience-stricken magnate said feebly.
+
+Manasseh did not reply; he slammed the door instead, shutting in the
+master of the house.
+
+Grobstock fell back on the bed exhausted, looking not unlike the
+tumbled litter of clothes he replaced. In a minute or two he raised
+himself and went to the window, and stood watching the sun set behind
+the trees of the Tenterground. "At any rate I've done with him," he
+said, and hummed a tune. The sudden bursting open of the door froze it
+upon his lips. He was almost relieved to find the intruder was only
+his wife.
+
+"What have you done with Wilkinson?" she cried vehemently. She was a
+pale, puffy-faced, portly matron, with a permanent air of remembering
+the exact figure of her dowry.
+
+"With Wilkinson, my dear? Nothing."
+
+"Well, he isn't in the house. I want him, but cook says you've sent
+him out."
+
+"I? Oh, no," he returned, with dawning uneasiness, looking away from
+her sceptical gaze.
+
+Suddenly his pupils dilated. A picture from without had painted itself
+on his retina. It was a picture of Wilkinson--Wilkinson the austere,
+Wilkinson the unbending--treading the Tenterground gravel, curved
+beneath a box! Before him strode the _Schnorrer_.
+
+Never during all his tenure of service in Goodman's Fields had
+Wilkinson carried anything on his shoulders but his livery. Grobstock
+would have as soon dreamt of his wife consenting to wear cotton. He
+rubbed his eyes, but the image persisted.
+
+He clutched at the window curtains to steady himself.
+
+"My Persian curtains!" cried his wife. "What is the matter with you?"
+
+"He must be the Baal Shem himself!" gasped Grobstock unheeding.
+
+"What is it? What are you looking at?"
+
+"N--nothing."
+
+Mrs. Grobstock incredulously approached the window and stared through
+the panes. She saw Wilkinson in the gardens, but did not recognise him
+in his new attitude. She concluded that her husband's agitation must
+have some connection with a beautiful brunette who was tasting the
+cool of the evening in a sedan chair, and it was with a touch of
+asperity that she said: "Cook complains of being insulted by a saucy
+fellow who brought home your fish."
+
+"Oh!" said poor Grobstock. Was he never to be done with the man?
+
+"How came you to send him to her?"
+
+His anger against Manasseh resurged under his wife's peevishness.
+
+"My dear," he cried, "I did not send him anywhere--except to the
+devil."
+
+"Joseph! You might keep such language for the ears of creatures in
+sedan chairs."
+
+And Mrs. Grobstock flounced out of the room with a rustle of angry
+satin.
+
+When Wilkinson reappeared, limp and tired, with his pompousness exuded
+in perspiration, he sought his master with a message, which he
+delivered ere the flood of interrogation could burst from Grobstock's
+lips.
+
+"Mr. da Costa presents his compliments, and says that he has decided
+on reconsideration not to break his promise to be with you on Friday
+evening."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" said Grobstock grimly. "And, pray, how came you to carry
+his box?"
+
+"You told me to, sir!"
+
+"_I_ told you!"
+
+"I mean he told me you told me to," said Wilkinson wonderingly.
+"Didn't you?"
+
+Grobstock hesitated. Since Manasseh _would_ be his guest, was it not
+imprudent to give him away to the livery-servant? Besides, he felt a
+secret pleasure in Wilkinson's humiliation--but for the _Schnorrer_ he
+would never have known that Wilkinson's gold lace concealed a pliable
+personality. The proverb "Like master like man" did not occur to
+Grobstock at this juncture.
+
+"I only meant you to carry it to a coach," he murmured.
+
+"He said it was not worth while--the distance was so short."
+
+"Ah! Did you see his house?" enquired Grobstock curiously.
+
+"Yes; a very fine house in Aldgate, with a handsome portico and two
+stone lions."
+
+Grobstock strove hard not to look surprised.
+
+"I handed the box to the footman."
+
+Grobstock strove harder.
+
+Wilkinson ended with a weak smile: "Would you believe, sir, I thought
+at first he brought home your fish! He dresses so peculiarly. He must
+be an original."
+
+"Yes, yes; an eccentric like Baron D'Aguilar, whom he visits," said
+Grobstock eagerly. He wondered, indeed, whether he was not speaking
+the truth. Could he have been the victim of a practical joke, a prank?
+Did not a natural aristocracy ooze from every pore of his mysterious
+visitor? Was not every tone, every gesture, that of a man born to
+rule? "You must remember, too," he added, "that he is a Spaniard."
+
+"Ah, I see," said Wilkinson in profound accents.
+
+"I daresay he dresses like everybody else, though, when he dines or
+sups out," Grobstock added lightly. "I only brought him in by
+accident. But go to your mistress! She wants you."
+
+"Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you he hopes you will save
+him a slice of his salmon."
+
+"Go to your mistress!"
+
+"You did not tell me a Spanish nobleman was coming to us on Friday,"
+said his spouse later in the evening.
+
+"No," he admitted curtly.
+
+"But is he?"
+
+"No--at least, not a nobleman."
+
+"What then? I have to learn about my guests from my servants."
+
+"Apparently."
+
+"Oh! and you think that's right!"
+
+"To gossip with your servants? Certainly not."
+
+"If my husband will not tell me anything--if he has only eyes for
+sedan chairs."
+
+Joseph thought it best to kiss Mrs. Grobstock.
+
+[Illustration: "THOUGHT IT BEST TO KISS MRS. GROBSTOCK."]
+
+"A fellow-Director, I suppose?" she urged, more mildly.
+
+"A fellow-Israelite. He has promised to come at six."
+
+Manasseh was punctual to the second. Wilkinson ushered him in. The
+hostess had robed herself in her best to do honour to a situation
+which her husband awaited with what hope he could. She looked radiant
+in a gown of blue silk; her hair was done in a tuft and round her neck
+was an "esclavage," consisting of festoons of gold chains. The Sabbath
+table was equally festive with its ponderous silver candelabra,
+coffee-urn, and consecration cup, its flower-vases, and fruit-salvers.
+The dining-room itself was a handsome apartment; its buffets glittered
+with Venetian glass and Dresden porcelain, and here and there gilt
+pedestals supported globes of gold and silver fish.
+
+At the first glance at his guest Grobstock's blood ran cold.
+
+Manasseh had not turned a hair, nor changed a single garment. At the
+next glance Grobstock's blood boiled. A second figure loomed in
+Manasseh's wake--a short _Schnorrer_, even dingier than da Costa, and
+with none of his dignity, a clumsy, stooping _Schnorrer_, with a
+cajoling grin on his mud-coloured, hairy face. Neither removed his
+headgear.
+
+Mrs. Grobstock remained glued to her chair in astonishment.
+
+"Peace be unto you," said the King of _Schnorrers_, "I have brought
+with me my friend Yankele ben Yitzchok of whom I told you."
+
+Yankele nodded, grinning harder than ever.
+
+"You never told me he was coming," Grobstock rejoined, with an
+apoplectic air.
+
+"Did I not tell you that he always supped with me on Friday evenings?"
+Manasseh reminded him quietly. "It is so good of him to accompany me
+even here--he will make the necessary third at grace."
+
+The host took a frantic surreptitious glance at his wife. It was
+evident that her brain was in a whirl, the evidence of her senses
+conflicting with vague doubts of the possibilities of Spanish
+grandeeism and with a lingering belief in her husband's sanity.
+
+Grobstock resolved to snatch the benefit of her doubts. "My dear,"
+said he, "this is Mr. da Costa."
+
+"Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa," said the _Schnorrer_.
+
+The dame seemed a whit startled and impressed. She bowed, but words of
+welcome were still congealed in her throat.
+
+"And this is Yankele ben Yitzchok," added Manasseh. "A poor friend of
+mine. I do not doubt, Mrs. Grobstock, that as a pious woman, the
+daughter of Moses Bernberg (his memory for a blessing), you prefer
+grace with three."
+
+[Illustration: "'AND THIS IS YANKELE BEN YITZCHOK,' ADDED MANASSEH."]
+
+"Any friend of yours is welcome!" She found her lips murmuring the
+conventional phrase without being able to check their output.
+
+"I never doubted that either," said Manasseh gracefully. "Is not the
+hospitality of Moses Bernberg's beautiful daughter a proverb?"
+
+Moses Bernberg's daughter could not deny this; her salon was the
+rendezvous of rich bagmen, brokers and bankers, tempered by occasional
+young bloods and old bucks not of the Jewish faith (nor any other).
+But she had never before encountered a personage so magnificently
+shabby, nor extended her proverbial hospitality to a Polish
+_Schnorrer_ uncompromisingly musty. Joseph did not dare meet her eye.
+
+"Sit down there, Yankele," he said hurriedly, in ghastly genial
+accents, and he indicated a chair at the farthest possible point from
+the hostess. He placed Manasseh next to his Polish parasite, and
+seated himself as a buffer between his guests and his wife. He was
+burning with inward indignation at the futile rifling of his wardrobe,
+but he dared not say anything in the hearing of his spouse.
+
+"It is a beautiful custom, this of the Sabbath guest, is it not, Mrs.
+Grobstock?" remarked Manasseh as he took his seat. "I never neglect
+it--even when I go out to the Sabbath-meal as to-night."
+
+The late Miss Bernberg was suddenly reminded of auld lang syne: her
+father (who according to a wag of the period had divided his time
+between the Law and the profits) having been a depositary of ancient
+tradition. Perhaps these obsolescent customs, unsuited to prosperous
+times, had lingered longer among the Spanish grandees. She seized an
+early opportunity, when the Sephardic _Schnorrer_ was taking his
+coffee from Wilkinson, of putting the question to her husband, who
+fell in weakly with her illusions. He knew there was no danger of
+Manasseh's beggarly status leaking out; no expressions of gratitude
+were likely to fall from that gentleman's lips. He even hinted that da
+Costa dressed so fustily to keep his poor friend in countenance.
+Nevertheless, Mrs. Grobstock, while not without admiration for the
+Quixotism, was not without resentment for being dragged into it. She
+felt that such charity should begin and end at home.
+
+"I see you did save me a slice of salmon," said Manasseh, manipulating
+his fish.
+
+"What salmon was that?" asked the hostess, pricking up her ears.
+
+"One I had from Mr. da Costa on Wednesday," said the host.
+
+"Oh, that! It was delicious. I am sure it was very kind of you, Mr. da
+Costa, to make us such a nice present," said the hostess, her
+resentment diminishing. "We had company last night, and everybody
+praised it till none was left. This is another, but I hope it is to
+your liking," she finished anxiously.
+
+"Yes, it's very fair, very fair, indeed. I don't know when I've tasted
+better, except at the house of the President of the _Deputados_. But
+Yankele here is a connoisseur in fish, not easy to please. What say
+you, Yankele?"
+
+Yankele munched a muffled approval.
+
+"Help yourself to more bread and butter, Yankele," said Manasseh.
+"Make yourself at home--remember you're my guest." Silently he added:
+"The other fork!"
+
+Grobstock's irritation found vent in a complaint that the salad wanted
+vinegar.
+
+"How can you say so? It's perfect," said Mrs. Grobstock. "Salad is
+cook's speciality."
+
+Manasseh tasted it critically. "On salads you must come to me," he
+said. "It does not want vinegar," was his verdict; "but a little more
+oil would certainly improve it. Oh, there is no one dresses salad like
+Hyman!"
+
+Hyman's fame as the _Kosher chef_ who superintended the big dinners at
+the London Tavern had reached Mrs. Grobstock's ears, and she was
+proportionately impressed.
+
+"They say his pastry is so good," she observed, to be in the running.
+
+"Yes," said Manasseh, "in kneading and puffing he stands alone."
+
+"Our cook's tarts are quite as nice," said Grobstock roughly.
+
+"We shall see," Manasseh replied guardedly. "Though, as for
+almond-cakes, Hyman himself makes none better than I get from my
+cousin, Barzillai of Fenchurch Street."
+
+"Your cousin!" exclaimed Grobstock, "the West Indian merchant!"
+
+"The same--formerly of Barbadoes. Still, your cook knows how to make
+coffee, though I can tell you do not get it direct from the plantation
+like the wardens of my Synagogue."
+
+Grobstock was once again piqued with curiosity as to the _Schnorrer's_
+identity.
+
+"You accuse me of having stone figures in my house," he said boldly,
+"but what about the lions in front of yours?"
+
+"I have no lions," said Manasseh.
+
+"Wilkinson told me so. Didn't you, Wilkinson?"
+
+"Wilkinson is a slanderer. That was the house of Nathaniel Furtado."
+
+Grobstock began to choke with chagrin. He perceived at once that the
+_Schnorrer_ had merely had the clothes conveyed direct to the house of
+a wealthy private dealer.
+
+"Take care!" exclaimed the _Schnorrer_ anxiously, "you are spluttering
+sauce all over that waistcoat, without any consideration for me."
+
+Joseph suppressed himself with an effort. Open discussion would betray
+matters to his wife, and he was now too deeply enmeshed in falsehoods
+by default. But he managed to whisper angrily, "Why did you tell
+Wilkinson I ordered him to carry your box?"
+
+"To save your credit in his eyes. How was he to know we had
+quarrelled? He would have thought you discourteous to your guest."
+
+"That's all very fine. But why did you sell my clothes?"
+
+"You did not expect me to wear them? No, I know my station, thank
+God."
+
+"What is that you are saying, Mr. da Costa?" asked the hostess.
+
+"Oh, we are talking of Dan Mendoza," replied Grobstock glibly;
+"wondering if he'll beat Dick Humphreys at Doncaster."
+
+"Oh, Joseph, didn't you have enough of Dan Mendoza at supper last
+night?" protested his wife.
+
+"It is not a subject _I_ ever talk about," said the _Schnorrer_,
+fixing his host with a reproachful glance.
+
+Grobstock desperately touched his foot under the table, knowing he was
+selling his soul to the King of _Schnorrers_, but too flaccid to face
+the moment.
+
+"No, da Costa doesn't usually," he admitted. "Only Dan Mendoza being a
+Portuguese I happened to ask if he was ever seen in the Synagogue."
+
+"If I had my way," growled da Costa, "he should be excommunicated--a
+bruiser, a defacer of God's image!"
+
+"By gad, no!" cried Grobstock, stirred up. "If you had seen him lick
+the Badger in thirty-five minutes on a twenty-four foot stage--"
+
+"Joseph! Joseph! Remember it is the Sabbath!" cried Mrs. Grobstock.
+
+"I would willingly exchange our Dan Mendoza for your David Levi," said
+da Costa severely.
+
+David Levi was the literary ornament of the Ghetto; a shoe-maker and
+hat-dresser who cultivated Hebrew philology and the Muses, and broke a
+lance in defence of his creed with Dr. Priestley, the discoverer of
+Oxygen, and Tom Paine, the discoverer of Reason.
+
+"Pshaw! David Levi! The mad hatter!" cried Grobstock. "He makes
+nothing at all out of his books."
+
+"You should subscribe for more copies," retorted Manasseh.
+
+"I would if you wrote them," rejoined Grobstock, with a grimace.
+
+"I got six copies of his _Lingua Sacra_," Manasseh declared with
+dignity, "and a dozen of his translation of the Pentateuch."
+
+"You can afford it!" snarled Grobstock, with grim humour. "I have to
+earn my money."
+
+"It is very good of Mr. da Costa, all the same," interposed the
+hostess. "How many men, born to great possessions, remain quite
+indifferent to learning!"
+
+"True, most true," said da Costa. "Men-of-the-Earth, most of them."
+
+After supper he trolled the Hebrew grace hilariously, assisted by
+Yankele, and ere he left he said to the hostess, "May the Lord bless
+you with children!"
+
+"Thank you," she answered, much moved.
+
+"You see I should be so pleased to marry your daughter if you had
+one."
+
+"You are very complimentary," she murmured, but her husband's
+exclamation drowned hers, "You marry my daughter!"
+
+"Who else moves among better circles--would be more easily able to
+find her a suitable match?"
+
+"Oh, in _that_ sense," said Grobstock, mollified in one direction,
+irritated in another.
+
+"In what other sense? You do not think I, a Sephardi, would marry her
+myself!"
+
+"My daughter does not need your assistance," replied Grobstock
+shortly.
+
+"Not yet," admitted Manasseh, rising to go; "but when the time comes,
+where will you find a better marriage broker? I have had a finger in
+the marriage of greater men's daughters. You see, when I recommend a
+maiden or a young man it is from no surface knowledge. I have seen
+them in the intimacy of their homes--above all I am able to say
+whether they are of a good, charitable disposition. Good Sabbath!"
+
+"Good Sabbath," murmured the host and hostess in farewell. Mrs.
+Grobstock thought he need not be above shaking hands, for all his
+grand acquaintances.
+
+"This way, Yankele," said Manasseh, showing him to the door. "I am so
+glad you were able to come--you must come again."
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+SHOWING HOW HIS MAJESTY WENT TO THE THEATRE AND WAS WOOED.
+
+As Manasseh the Great, first beggar in Europe, sauntered across
+Goodman's Fields, attended by his Polish parasite, both serenely
+digesting the supper provided by the Treasurer of the Great Synagogue,
+Joseph Grobstock, a martial music clove suddenly the quiet evening
+air, and set the _Schnorrers'_ pulses bounding. From the Tenterground
+emerged a squad of recruits, picturesque in white fatigue dress,
+against which the mounted officers showed gallant in blue surtouts and
+scarlet-striped trousers.
+
+"Ah!" said da Costa, with swelling breast. "There go my soldiers!"
+
+[Illustration: "'THERE GO MY SOLDIERS.'"]
+
+"Your soldiers!" ejaculated Yankele in astonishment.
+
+"Yes--do you not see they are returning to the India House in
+Leadenhall Street?"
+
+"And vat of dat?" said Yankele, shrugging his shoulders and spreading
+out his palms.
+
+"What of that? Surely you have not forgotten that the clodpate at
+whose house I have just entertained you is a Director of the East
+India Company, whose soldiers these are?"
+
+"Oh," said Yankele, his mystified face relaxing in a smile. The smile
+fled before the stern look in the Spaniard's eyes; he hastened to
+conceal his amusement. Yankele was by nature a droll, and it cost him
+a good deal to take his patron as seriously as that potentate took
+himself. Perhaps if Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa had had
+more humour he would have had less momentum. Your man of action is
+blind in one eye. Caesar would not have come and conquered if he had
+really seen.
+
+Wounded by that temporary twinkle in his client's eye, the patron
+moved on silently, in step with the military air.
+
+"It is a beautiful night," observed Yankele in contrition. The words
+had hardly passed his lips before he became conscious that he had
+spoken the truth. The moon was peeping from behind a white cloud, and
+the air was soft, and broken shadows of foliage lay across the path,
+and the music was a song of love and bravery. Somehow, Yankele began
+to think of da Costa's lovely daughter. Her face floated in the
+moonlight.
+
+Manasseh shrugged his shoulders, unappeased.
+
+"When one has supped well, it is always a beautiful night," he said
+testily. It was as if the cloud had overspread the moon, and a thick
+veil had fallen over the face of da Costa's lovely daughter. But
+Yankele recovered himself quickly.
+
+"Ah, yes," he said, "you have indeed made it a beaudiful night for
+me."
+
+The King of _Schnorrers_ waved his staff deprecatingly.
+
+"It is alvays a beaudiful night ven I am mid _you_," added Yankele,
+undaunted.
+
+"It is strange," replied Manasseh musingly, "that I should have
+admitted to my hearth and Grobstock's table one who is, after all, but
+a half-brother in Israel."
+
+"But Grobstock is also a Tedesco," protested Yankele.
+
+"That is also what I wonder at," rejoined da Costa. "I cannot make out
+how I have come to be so familiar with him."
+
+"You see!" ventured the Tedesco timidly. "P'raps ven Grobstock had
+really had a girl you might even have come to marry her."
+
+"Guard your tongue! A Sephardi cannot marry a Tedesco! It would be a
+degradation."
+
+"Yes--but de oder vay round. A Tedesco _can_ marry a Sephardi, not so?
+Dat is a rise. If Grobstock's daughter had married you, she vould have
+married above her," he ended, with an ingenuous air.
+
+"True," admitted Manasseh. "But then, as Grobstock's daughter does not
+exist, and my wife does--!"
+
+"Ah, but if you vas me," said Yankele, "vould you rader marry a
+Tedesco or a Sephardi?"
+
+"A Sephardi, of course. But--"
+
+"I vill be guided by you," interrupted the Pole hastily. "You be de
+visest man I have ever known."
+
+"But--" Manasseh repeated.
+
+"Do not deny it. You be! Instantly vill I seek out a Sephardi maiden
+and ved her. P'raps you crown your counsel by choosing von for me.
+Vat?"
+
+Manasseh was visibly mollified.
+
+"How do I know your taste?" he asked hesitatingly.
+
+"Oh, any Spanish girl would be a prize," replied Yankele. "Even ven
+she had a face like a Passover cake. But still I prefer a Pentecost
+blossom."
+
+"What kind of beauty do you like best?"
+
+"Your daughter's style," plumply answered the Pole.
+
+"But there are not many like that," said da Costa unsuspiciously.
+
+"No--she is like de Rose of Sharon. But den dere are not many handsome
+faders."
+
+Manasseh bethought himself. "There is Gabriel, the corpse-watcher's
+daughter. People consider his figure and deportment good."
+
+"Pooh! Offal! She's ugly enough to keep de Messiah from coming. Vy,
+she's like cut out of de fader's face! Besides, consider his
+occupation! You vould not advise dat I marry into such a low family!
+Be you not my benefactor?"
+
+"Well, but I cannot think of any good-looking girl that would be
+suitable."
+
+Yankele looked at him with a roguish, insinuating smile. "Say not dat!
+Have you not told Grobstock you be de first of marriage-brokers?"
+
+But Manasseh shook his head.
+
+"No, you be quite right," said Yankele humbly; "I could not get a
+really beaudiful girl unless I married your Deborah herself."
+
+"No, I am afraid not," said Manasseh sympathetically.
+
+Yankele took the plunge.
+
+"Ah, vy can I not hope to call you fader-in-law?"
+
+Manasseh's face was contorted by a spasm of astonishment and
+indignation. He came to a standstill.
+
+"Dat must be a fine piece," said Yankele quickly, indicating a
+flamboyant picture of a fearsome phantom hovering over a sombre moat.
+
+[Illustration: "'DAT MUST BE A FINE PIECE.'"]
+
+They had arrived at Leman Street, and had stopped before Goodman's
+Fields Theatre. Manasseh's brow cleared.
+
+"It is _The Castle Spectre_," he said graciously. "Would you like to
+see it?"
+
+"But it is half over--"
+
+"Oh, no," said da Costa, scanning the play bill. "There was a farce by
+O'Keefe to start with. The night is yet young. The drama will be just
+beginning."
+
+"But it is de Sabbath--ve must not pay."
+
+Manasseh's brow clouded again in wrathful righteous surprise. "Did you
+think I was going to pay?" he gasped.
+
+"N-n-no," stammered the Pole, abashed. "But you haven't got no
+orders?"
+
+"Orders? Me? Will you do me the pleasure of accepting a seat in my
+box?"
+
+"In your box?"
+
+"Yes, there is plenty of room. Come this way," said Manasseh. "I
+haven't been to the play myself for over a year. I am too busy always.
+It will be an agreeable change."
+
+Yankele hung back, bewildered.
+
+"Through this door," said Manasseh encouragingly. "Come--you shall
+lead the way."
+
+"But dey vill not admit me!"
+
+"Will not admit you! When I give you a seat in my box! Are you mad?
+Now you shall just go in without me--I insist upon it. I will show you
+Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa is a man whose word is the
+Law of Moses; true as the Talmud. Walk straight through the portico,
+and, if the attendant endeavours to stop you, simply tell him Mr. da
+Costa has given you a seat in his box."
+
+Not daring to exhibit scepticism--nay, almost confident in the powers
+of his extraordinary protector, Yankele put his foot on the threshold
+of the lobby.
+
+"But you be coming, too?" he said, turning back.
+
+"Oh, yes, I don't intend to miss the performance. Have no fear."
+
+Yankele walked boldly ahead, and brushed by the door-keeper of the
+little theatre without appearing conscious of him; indeed, the
+official was almost impressed into letting the _Schnorrer_ pass
+unquestioned as one who had gone out between the acts. But the visitor
+was too dingy for anything but the stage-door--he had the air of those
+nondescript beings who hang mysteriously about the hinder recesses of
+playhouses. Recovering himself just in time, the functionary (a meek
+little Cockney) hailed the intruder with a backward-drawing "Hi!"
+
+"Vat you vant?" said Yankele, turning his head.
+
+"Vhere's your ticket?"
+
+"Don't vant no ticket."
+
+"Don't you? I does," rejoined the little man, who was a humorist.
+
+"Mr. da Costa has given me a seat in his box."
+
+"Oh, indeed! You'd swear to that in the box?"
+
+"By my head. He gave it me."
+
+"A seat in his box?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mr. da Costa, you vos a-sayin', I think?"
+
+"The same."
+
+"Ah! this vay, then!"
+
+And the humorist pointed to the street.
+
+Yankele did not budge.
+
+"This vay, my lud!" cried the little humorist peremptorily.
+
+"I tells you I'm going into Mr. da Costa's box!"
+
+"And I tells you you're a-goin' into the gutter." And the official
+seized him by the scruff of the neck and began pushing him forwards
+with his knee.
+
+"Now then! what's this?"
+
+[Illustration: "'NOW THEN! WHAT'S THIS?'"]
+
+A stern, angry voice broke like a thunderclap upon the humorist's
+ears. He released his hold of the _Schnorrer_ and looked up, to behold
+a strange, shabby, stalwart figure towering over him in censorious
+majesty.
+
+"Why are you hustling this poor man?" demanded Manasseh.
+
+"He wanted to sneak in," the little Cockney replied, half
+apologetically, half resentfully. "Expect 'e 'ails from Saffron 'Ill,
+and 'as 'is eye on the vipes. Told me some gammon--a cock-and-bull
+story about having a seat in a box."
+
+"In Mr. da Costa's box, I suppose?" said Manasseh, ominously calm,
+with a menacing glitter in his eye.
+
+"Ye-es," said the humorist, astonished and vaguely alarmed. Then the
+storm burst.
+
+"You impertinent scoundrel! You jackanapes! You low, beggarly
+rapscallion! And so you refused to show my guest into my box!"
+
+"Are you Mr. da Costa?" faltered the humorist.
+
+"Yes, _I_ am Mr. da Costa, but _you_ won't much longer be door-keeper,
+if this is the way you treat people who come to see your pieces.
+Because, forsooth, the man looks poor, you think you can bully him
+safely--forgive me, Yankele, I am so sorry I did not manage to come
+here before you, and spare you this insulting treatment! And as for
+you, my fine fellow, let me tell you that you make a great mistake in
+judging from appearances. There are some good friends of mine who
+could buy up your theatre and you and your miserable little soul at a
+moment's notice, and to look at them you would think they were
+cadgers. One of these days--hark you!--you will kick out a person of
+quality, and be kicked out yourself."
+
+"I--I'm very sorry, sir."
+
+"Don't say that to me. It is my guest you owe an apology to. Yes--and,
+by Heaven! you shall pay it, though he is no plutocrat, but only what
+he appears. Surely, because I wish to give a treat to a poor man who
+has, perhaps, never been to the play in his life, I am not bound to
+send him to the gallery--I can give him a corner in my box if I
+choose. There is no rule against that, I presume?"
+
+"No, sir, I can't say as there is," said the humorist humbly. "But you
+will allow, sir, it's rayther unusual."
+
+"Unusual! Of course, it's unusual. Kindness and consideration for the
+poor are always unusual. The poor are trodden upon at every
+opportunity, treated like dogs, not men. If I had invited a drunken
+fop, you'd have met him hat in hand (no, no, you needn't take it off
+to me now; it's too late). But a sober, poor man--by gad! I shall
+report your incivility to the management, and you'll be lucky if I
+don't thrash you with this stick into the bargain."
+
+"But 'ow vos I to know, sir?"
+
+"Don't speak to me, I tell you. If you have anything to urge in
+extenuation of your disgraceful behaviour, address your remarks to my
+guest."
+
+"You'll overlook it this time, sir," said the little humorist, turning
+to Yankele.
+
+"Next time, p'raps, you believe me ven I say I have a seat in Mr. da
+Costa's box," replied Yankele, in gentle reproach.
+
+"Well, if _you're_ satisfied, Yankele," said Manasseh, with a touch of
+scorn, "I have no more to say. Go along, my man, show us to our box."
+
+The official bowed and led them into the corridor. Suddenly he turned
+back.
+
+"What box is it, please?" he said timidly.
+
+"Blockhead!" cried Manasseh. "Which box should it be? The empty one,
+of course."
+
+"But, sir, there are two boxes empty," urged the poor humorist
+deprecatingly, "the stage-box and the one by the gallery."
+
+"Dolt! Do I look the sort of person who is content with a box on the
+ceiling? Go back to your post, sir--I'll find the box myself--Heaven
+send you wisdom--go back, some one might sneak in while you are away,
+and it would just serve you right."
+
+The little man slunk back half dazed, glad to escape from this
+overwhelming personality, and in a few seconds Manasseh stalked into
+the empty box, followed by Yankele, whose mouth was a grin and whose
+eye a twinkle. As the Spaniard took his seat there was a slight
+outburst of clapping and stamping from a house impatient for the end
+of the _entr'acte_.
+
+Manasseh craned his head over the box to see the house, which in turn
+craned to see him, glad of any diversion, and some people, imagining
+the applause had reference to the new-comer, whose head appeared to
+be that of a foreigner of distinction, joined in it. The contagion
+spread, and in a minute Manasseh was the cynosure of all eyes and the
+unmistakable recipient of an "ovation." He bowed twice or thrice in
+unruffled dignity.
+
+[Illustration: "HE BOWED."]
+
+There were some who recognised him, but they joined in the reception
+with wondering amusement. Not a few, indeed, of the audience were
+Jews, for Goodman's Fields was the Ghetto Theatre, and the Sabbath was
+not a sufficient deterrent to a lax generation. The audiences--mainly
+German and Poles--came to the little unfashionable playhouse as one
+happy family. Distinctions of rank were trivial, and gallery held
+converse with circle, and pit collogued with box. Supper parties were
+held on the benches.
+
+In a box that gave on the pit a portly Jewess sat stiffly, arrayed in
+the very pink of fashion, in a spangled robe of India muslin, with a
+diamond necklace and crescent, her head crowned by terraces of curls
+and flowers.
+
+"Betsy!" called up a jovial feminine voice from the pit, when the
+applause had subsided.
+
+"Betsy" did not move, but her cheeks grew hot and red. She had got on
+in the world, and did not care to recognise her old crony.
+
+"Betsy!" iterated the well-meaning woman. "By your life and mine, you
+must taste a piece of my fried fish." And she held up a slice of cold
+plaice, beautifully browned.
+
+Betsy drew back, striving unsuccessfully to look unconscious. To her
+relief the curtain rose, and _The Castle Spectre_ walked. Yankele, who
+had scarcely seen anything but private theatricals, representing the
+discomfiture of the wicked Haman and the triumph of Queen Esther (a
+_role_ he had once played himself, in his mother's old clothes), was
+delighted with the thrills and terrors of the ghostly melodrama. It
+was not till the conclusion of the second act that the emotion the
+beautiful but injured heroine cost him welled over again into
+matrimonial speech.
+
+"Ve vind up de night glorious," he said.
+
+"I am glad you like it. It is certainly an enjoyable performance,"
+Manasseh answered with stately satisfaction.
+
+"Your daughter, Deborah," Yankele ventured timidly, "do she ever go to
+de play?"
+
+"No, I do not take my womankind about. Their duty lies at home. As it
+is written, I call my wife not 'wife' but 'home.'"
+
+"But dink how dey vould enjoy deirselves!"
+
+"We are not sent here to enjoy ourselves."
+
+"True--most true," said Yankele, pulling a smug face. "Ve be sent here
+to obey de Law of Moses. But do not remind me I be a sinner in
+Israel."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I am twenty-five--yet I have no vife."
+
+"I daresay you had plenty in Poland."
+
+"By my soul, not. Only von, and her I gave _gett_ (divorce) for
+barrenness. You can write to de Rabbi of my town."
+
+"Why should I write? It's not my affair."
+
+"But I vant it to be your affair."
+
+Manasseh glared. "Do you begin that again?" he murmured.
+
+"It is not so much dat I desire your daughter for a vife as you for a
+fader-in-law."
+
+"It cannot be!" said Manasseh more gently.
+
+"Oh dat I had been born a Sephardi!" said Yankele with a hopeless
+groan.
+
+"It is too late now," said da Costa soothingly.
+
+"Dey say it's never too late to mend," moaned the Pole. "Is dere no
+vay for me to be converted to Spanish Judaism? I could easily
+pronounce Hebrew in your superior vay."
+
+"Our Judaism differs in no essential respect from yours--it is a
+question of blood. You cannot change your blood. As it is said, 'And
+the blood is the life.'"
+
+"I know, I know dat I aspire too high. Oh, vy did you become my
+friend, vy did you make me believe you cared for me--so dat I tink of
+you day and night--and now, ven I ask you to be my fader-in-law, you
+say it cannot be. It is like a knife in de heart! Tink how proud and
+happy I should be to call you my fader-in-law. All my life vould be
+devoted to you--my von thought to be vordy of such a man."
+
+"You are not the first I have been compelled to refuse," said
+Manasseh, with emotion.
+
+"Vat helps me dat dere be other _Schlemihls_ (unlucky persons)?"
+quoted Yankele, with a sob. "How can I live midout you for a
+fader-in-law?"
+
+"I am sorry for you--more sorry than I have ever been."
+
+"Den you do care for me! I vill not give up hope. I vill not take no
+for no answer. Vat is dis blood dat it should divide Jew from Jew, dat
+it should prevent me becoming de son-in-law of de only man I have ever
+loved? Say not so. Let me ask you again--in a month or a year--even
+twelve months vould I vait, ven you vould only promise not to pledge
+yourself to anoder man."
+
+"But if I became your father-in-law--mind, I only say if--not only
+would I not keep you, but you would have to keep my Deborah."
+
+"And supposing?"
+
+"But you are not able to keep a wife!"
+
+"Not able? Who told you dat?" cried Yankele indignantly.
+
+"You yourself! Why, when I first befriended you, you told me you were
+blood-poor."
+
+"Dat I told you as a _Schnorrer_. But now I speak to you as a suitor."
+
+"True," admitted Manasseh, instantly appreciating the distinction.
+
+"And as a suitor I tell you I can _schnorr_ enough to keep two vives."
+
+"But do you tell this to da Costa the father or da Costa the
+marriage-broker?"
+
+"Hush!" from all parts of the house as the curtain went up and the
+house settled down. But Yankele was no longer in _rapport_ with the
+play; the spectre had ceased to thrill and the heroine to touch. His
+mind was busy with feverish calculations of income, scraping together
+every penny he could raise by hook or crook. He even drew out a
+crumpled piece of paper and a pencil, but thrust them back into his
+pocket when he saw Manasseh's eye.
+
+"I forgot," he murmured apologetically. "Being at de play made me
+forget it was de Sabbath." And he pursued his calculations mentally;
+this being naturally less work.
+
+When the play was over the two beggars walked out into the cool night
+air.
+
+"I find," Yankele began eagerly in the vestibule, "I make at least von
+hundred and fifty pounds"--he paused to acknowledge the farewell
+salutation of the little door-keeper at his elbow--"a hundred and
+fifty a year."
+
+"Indeed!" said Manasseh, in respectful astonishment.
+
+"Yes! I have reckoned it all up. Ten are de sources of charity--"
+
+"As it is written," interrupted Manasseh with unction, "'With ten
+sayings was the world created; there were ten generations from Noah to
+Abraham; with ten trials our father Abraham was tried; ten miracles
+were wrought for our fathers in Egypt and ten at the Red Sea; and ten
+things were created on the eve of the Sabbath in the twilight!' And
+now it shall be added, 'Ten good deeds the poor man affords the rich
+man.' Proceed, Yankele."
+
+"First comes my allowance from de Synagogue--eight pounds. Vonce a
+veek I call and receive half-a-crown."
+
+"Is that all? Our Synagogue allows three-and-six."
+
+"Ah!" sighed the Pole wistfully. "Did I not say you be a superior
+race?"
+
+"But that only makes six pound ten!"
+
+"I know--de oder tirty shillings I allow for Passover cakes and
+groceries. Den for Synagogue-knocking I get ten guin--"
+
+"Stop! stop!" cried Manasseh, with a sudden scruple. "Ought I to
+listen to financial details on the Sabbath?"
+
+"Certainly, ven dey be connected vid my marriage--vich is a
+Commandment. It is de Law ve really discuss."
+
+"You are right. Go on, then. But remember, even if you can prove you
+can _schnorr_ enough to keep a wife, I do not bind myself to consent."
+
+"You be already a fader to me--vy vill you not be a fader-in-law?
+Anyhow, you vill find me a fader-in-law," he added hastily, seeing the
+blackness gathering again on da Costa's brow.
+
+"Nay, nay, we must not talk of business on the Sabbath," said Manasseh
+evasively. "Proceed with your statement of income."
+
+"Ten guineas for Synagogue-knocking. I have tventy clients who--"
+
+"Stop a minute! I cannot pass that item."
+
+"Vy not? It is true."
+
+"Maybe! But Synagogue-knocking is distinctly _work_!"
+
+"Vork?"
+
+"Well, if going round early in the morning to knock at the doors of
+twenty pious persons, and rouse them for morning service, isn't work,
+then the Christian bell-ringer is a beggar. No, no! Profits from this
+source I cannot regard as legitimate."
+
+"But most _Schnorrers_ be Synagogue-knockers!"
+
+"Most _Schnorrers_ are Congregation-men or Psalms-men," retorted the
+Spaniard witheringly. "But I call it debasing. What! To assist at the
+services for a fee! To worship one's Maker for hire! Under such
+conditions to pray is to work." His breast swelled with majesty and
+scorn.
+
+"I cannot call it vork," protested the _Schnorrer_. "Vy at dat rate
+you vould make out dat de minister vorks? or de preacher? Vy, I reckon
+fourteen pounds a year to my services as Congregation-man."
+
+"Fourteen pounds! As much as that?"
+
+"Yes, you see dere's my private customers as vell as de Synagogue. Ven
+dere is mourning in a house dey cannot alvays get together ten friends
+for de services, so I make von. How can you call that vork? It is
+friendship. And the more dey pay me de more friendship I feel,"
+asserted Yankele with a twinkle. "Den de Synagogue allows me a little
+extra for announcing de dead."
+
+In those primitive times, when a Jewish newspaper was undreamt of, the
+day's obituary was published by a peripatetic _Schnorrer_, who went
+about the Ghetto rattling a pyx--a copper money-box with a handle and
+a lid closed by a padlock. On hearing this death-rattle, anyone who
+felt curious would ask the _Schnorrer_:
+
+"Who's dead to-day?"
+
+"So-and-so ben So-and-so--funeral on such a day--mourning service at
+such an hour," the _Schnorrer_ would reply, and the enquirer would
+piously put something into the "byx," as it was called. The collection
+was handed over to the Holy Society--in other words, the Burial
+Society.
+
+"P'raps you call that vork?" concluded Yankele, in timid challenge.
+
+"Of course I do. What do you call it?"
+
+"Valking exercise. It keeps me healty. Vonce von of my customers (from
+whom I _schnorred_ half-a-crown a veek) said he was tired of my coming
+and getting it every Friday. He vanted to compound mid me for six
+pound a year, but I vouldn't."
+
+"But it was a very fair offer. He only deducted ten shillings for the
+interest on his money."
+
+"Dat I didn't mind. But I vanted a pound more for his depriving me of
+my valking exercise, and dat he vouldn't pay, so he still goes on
+giving me de half-crown a veek. Some of dese charitable persons are
+terribly mean. But vat I vant to say is dat I carry de byx mostly in
+the streets vere my customers lay, and it gives me more standing as a
+_Schnorrer_."
+
+"No, no, that is a delusion. What! Are you weak-minded enough to
+believe that? All the philanthropists say so, of course, but surely
+you know that _schnorring_ and work should never be mixed. A man
+cannot do two things properly. He must choose his profession, and
+stick to it. A friend of mine once succumbed to the advice of the
+philanthropists instead of asking mine. He had one of the best
+provincial rounds in the kingdom, but in every town he weakly listened
+to the lectures of the president of the congregation inculcating work,
+and at last he actually invested the savings of years in jewellery,
+and went round trying to peddle it. The presidents all bought
+something to encourage him (though they beat down the price so that
+there was no profit in it), and they all expressed their pleasure at
+his working for his living, and showing a manly independence. 'But I
+_schnorr_ also,' he reminded them, holding out his hand when they had
+finished. It was in vain. No one gave him a farthing. He had blundered
+beyond redemption. At one blow he had destroyed one of the most
+profitable connections a _Schnorrer_ ever had, and without even
+getting anything for the goodwill. So if you will be guided by me,
+Yankele, you will do nothing to assist the philanthropists to keep
+you. It destroys their satisfaction. A _Schnorrer_ cannot be too
+careful. And once you begin to work, where are you to draw the line?"
+
+"But you be a marriage-broker yourself," said Yankele imprudently.
+
+"That!" thundered Manasseh angrily, "That is not work! That is
+pleasure!"
+
+"Vy look! Dere is Hennery Simons," cried Yankele, hoping to divert his
+attention. But he only made matters worse.
+
+Henry Simons was a character variously known as the Tumbling Jew,
+Harry the Dancer, and the Juggling Jew. He was afterwards to become
+famous as the hero of a slander case which deluged England with
+pamphlets for and against, but for the present he had merely outraged
+the feelings of his fellow _Schnorrers_ by budding out in a direction
+so rare as to suggest preliminary baptism. He stood now playing antic
+and sleight-of-hand tricks--surrounded by a crowd--a curious figure
+crowned by a velvet skull-cap from which wisps of hair protruded, with
+a scarlet handkerchief thrust through his girdle. His face was an
+olive oval, bordered by ragged tufts of beard and stamped with
+melancholy.
+
+"You see the results of working," cried Manasseh. "It brings
+temptation to work on Sabbath. That Epicurean there is profaning the
+Holy Day. Come away! A _Schnorrer_ is far more certain of
+The-World-To-Come. No, decidedly, I will not give my daughter to a
+worker, or to a _Schnorrer_ who makes illegitimate profits."
+
+"But I _make_ de profits all de same," persisted Yankele.
+
+"You make them to-day--but to-morrow? There is no certainty about
+them. Work of whatever kind is by its very nature unreliable. At any
+moment trade may be slack. People may become less pious, and you lose
+your Synagogue-knocking. Or more pious--and they won't want
+congregation-men."
+
+"But new Synagogues spring up," urged Yankele.
+
+"New Synagogues are full of enthusiasm," retorted Manasseh. "The
+members are their own congregation-men."
+
+Yankele had his roguish twinkle. "At first," he admitted, "but de
+_Schnorrer_ vaits his time."
+
+Manasseh shook his head. "_Schnorring_ is the only occupation that is
+regular all the year round," he said. "Everything else may fail--the
+greatest commercial houses may totter to the ground; as it is written,
+'He humbleth the proud.' But the _Schnorrer_ is always secure. Whoever
+falls, there are always enough left to look after _him_. If you were a
+father, Yankele, you would understand my feelings. How can a man allow
+his daughter's future happiness to repose on a basis so uncertain as
+work? No, no. What do you make by your district visiting? Everything
+turns on that."
+
+"Tventy-five shilling a veek!"
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Law of Moses! In sixpences, shillings, and half-crowns. Vy in
+Houndsditch alone, I have two streets all except a few houses."
+
+"But are they safe? Population shifts. Good streets go down."
+
+"Dat tventy-five shillings is as safe as Mocatta's business. I have it
+all written down at home--you can inspect de books if you choose."
+
+"No, no," said Manasseh, with a grand wave of his stick. "If I did not
+believe you, I should not entertain your proposal for a moment. It
+rejoices me exceedingly to find you have devoted so much attention to
+this branch. I always held strongly that the rich should be visited in
+their own homes, and I grieve to see this personal touch, this contact
+with the very people to whom you give the good deeds, being replaced
+by lifeless circulars. One owes it to one's position in life to afford
+the wealthy classes the opportunity of charity warm from the heart;
+they should not be neglected and driven in their turn to write cheques
+in cold blood, losing all that human sympathy which comes from
+personal intercourse--as it is written, 'Charity delivers from death.'
+But do you think charity that is given publicly through a secretary
+and advertised in annual reports has so great a redeeming power as
+that slipped privately into the hands of the poor man, who makes a
+point of keeping secret from every donor what he has received from the
+others?"
+
+"I am glad you don't call collecting de money vork," said Yankele,
+with a touch of sarcasm which was lost on da Costa.
+
+"No, so long as the donor can't show any 'value received' in return.
+And there's more friendship in _such_ a call, Yankele, than in going
+to a house of mourning to pray for a fee."
+
+"Oh," said Yankele, wincing. "Den p'raps you strike out all my
+Year-Time item!"
+
+"Year-Time! What's that?"
+
+"Don't you know?" said the Pole, astonished. "Ven a man has Year-Time,
+he feels charitable for de day."
+
+"Do you mean when he commemorates the anniversary of the death of one
+of his family? We Sephardim call that 'making years'! But are there
+enough Year-Times, as you call them, in your Synagogue?"
+
+"Dere might be more--I only make about fifteen pounds. Our colony is,
+as you say, too new. De Globe Road Cemetery is as empty as a Synagogue
+on veek-days. De faders have left _deir_ faders on de Continent, and
+kept many Year-Times out of de country. But in a few years many faders
+and moders must die off here, and every parent leaves two or tree sons
+to have Year-Times, and every child two or tree broders and a fader.
+Den every day more German Jews come here--vich means more and more to
+die. I tink indeed it vould be fair to double this item."
+
+"No, no; stick to facts. It is an iniquity to speculate in the
+misfortunes of our fellow-creatures."
+
+"Somebody must die dat I may live," retorted Yankele roguishly; "de
+vorld is so created. Did you not quote, 'Charity delivers from death'?
+If people lived for ever, _Schnorrers_ could not live at all."
+
+"Hush! The world could not exist without _Schnorrers_. As it is
+written, 'And Repentance and _Prayer_ and CHARITY avert the evil
+decree.' Charity is put last--it is the climax--the greatest thing on
+earth. And the _Schnorrer_ is the greatest man on earth; for it stands
+in the Talmud, 'He who causes is greater than he who does.' Therefore,
+the _Schnorrer_ who causes charity is even greater than he who gives
+it."
+
+"Talk of de devil," said Yankele, who had much difficulty in keeping
+his countenance when Manasseh became magnificent and dithyrambic. "Vy,
+dere is Greenbaum, whose fader vas buried yesterday. Let us cross over
+by accident and vish him long life."
+
+"Greenbaum dead! Was that the Greenbaum on 'Change, who was such a
+rascal with the wenches?"
+
+"De same," said Yankele. Then approaching the son, he cried, "Good
+Sabbath, Mr. Greenbaum; I vish you long life. Vat a blow for de
+community!"
+
+"It comforts me to hear you say so," said the son, with a sob in his
+voice.
+
+"Ah, yes!" said Yankele chokingly. "Your fader vas a great and good
+man--just my size."
+
+[Illustration: "'YOUR FADER VAS A GREAT AND GOOD MAN--JUST MY SIZE.'"]
+
+"I've already given them away to Baruch the glazier," replied the
+mourner.
+
+"But he has his glaziering," remonstrated Yankele. "I have noting but
+de clothes I stand in, and dey don't fit me half so vell as your
+fader's vould have done."
+
+"Baruch has been very unfortunate," replied Greenbaum defensively.
+"He had a misfortune in the winter, and he has never got straight yet.
+A child of his died, and, unhappily, just when the snowballing was at
+its height, so that he lost seven days by the mourning." And he moved
+away.
+
+"Did I not say work was uncertain?" cried Manasseh.
+
+"Not all," maintained the _Schnorrer_. "What of de six guineas I make
+by carrying round de Palm-branch on Tabernacles to be shaken by de
+voomans who cannot attend Synagogue, and by blowing de trumpet for de
+same voomans on New Year, so dat dey may break deir fasts?"
+
+"The amount is too small to deserve discussion. Pass on."
+
+"Dere is a smaller amount--just half dat--I get from de presents to de
+poor at de Feast of Lots, and from de Bridegrooms of de Beginning and
+de Bridegrooms of de Law at de Rejoicing of de Law, and dere is about
+four pounds ten a year from de sale of clothes given to me. Den I have
+a lot o' meals given me--dis, I have reckoned, is as good as seven
+pounds. And, lastly, I cannot count de odds and ends under ten
+guineas. You know dere are alvays legacies, gifts, distributions--all
+unexpected. You never know who'll break out next."
+
+"Yes, I think it's not too high a percentage of your income to expect
+from unexpected sources," admitted Manasseh. "I have myself lingered
+about 'Change Alley or Sampson's Coffee House just when the jobbers
+have pulled off a special coup, and they have paid me quite a high
+percentage on their profits."
+
+"And I," boasted Yankele, stung to noble emulation, "have made two
+sov'rans in von minute out of Gideon de bullion-broker. He likes to
+give _Schnorrers_ sov'rans, as if in mistake for shillings, to see vat
+dey'll do. De fools hurry off, or move slowly avay, as if not
+noticing, or put it quickly in de pocket. But dose who have visdom
+tell him he's made a mistake, and he gives dem anoder sov'ran. Honesty
+is de best policy with Gideon. Den dere is Rabbi de Falk, de Baal
+Shem--de great Cabbalist. Ven--"
+
+"But," interrupted Manasseh impatiently, "you haven't made out your
+hundred and fifty a year."
+
+Yankele's face fell. "Not if you cut out so many items."
+
+"No, but even all inclusive it only comes to a hundred and forty-three
+pounds nineteen shillings."
+
+"Nonsense!" said Yankele, staggered. "How can you know so exact?"
+
+"Do you think I cannot do simple addition?" responded Manasseh
+sternly. "Are not these your ten items?"
+
+                                                  L s. d.
+     1. Synagogue Pension, with Passover extras   8  0  0
+     2. Synagogue-knocking                       10 10  0
+     3. District Visiting                        65  0  0
+     4. As Congregation-man and Pyx-bearer       14  0  0
+     5. Year-Times                               15  0  0
+     6. Palm-branch and Trumpet Fees              6  6  0
+     7. Purim-presents, &c.                       3  3  0
+     8. Sale of Clothes                           4 10  0
+     9. Equivalent of Free Meals                  7  0  0
+    10. Miscellanea, the unexpected              10 10  0
+                                        Total  L143 19  0
+
+"A child could sum it up," concluded Manasseh severely. Yankele was
+subdued to genuine respect and consternation by da Costa's marvellous
+memory and arithmetical genius. But he rallied immediately. "Of
+course, I also reckoned on a dowry mid my bride, if only a hundred
+pounds."
+
+"Well, invested in Consols, that would not bring you four pounds
+more," replied Manasseh instantly.
+
+"The rest vill be made up in extra free meals," Yankele answered no
+less quickly. "For ven I take your daughter off your hands you vill be
+able to afford to invite me more often to your table dan you do now."
+
+"Not at all," retorted Manasseh, "for now that I know how well off you
+are I shall no longer feel I am doing a charity."
+
+"Oh, yes, you vill," said Yankele insinuatingly. "You are too much a
+man of honour to know as a private philantropist vat I have told de
+marriage-broker, de fader-in-law and de fellow _Schnorrer_. Besides, I
+vould have de free meals from you as de son-in-law, not de
+_Schnorrer_."
+
+"In that relation I should also have free meals from you," rejoined
+Manasseh.
+
+"I never dared to tink you vould do me de honour. But even so I can
+never give you such good meals as you give me. So dere is still a
+balance in my favour."
+
+"That is true," said da Costa thoughtfully. "But you have still about
+a guinea to make up."
+
+Yankele was driven into a corner at last. But he flashed back,
+without perceptible pause, "You do not allow for vat I save by my
+piety. I fast twenty times a year, and surely dat is at least anoder
+guinea per annum."
+
+"But you will have children," retorted da Costa.
+
+Yankele shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Dat is de affair of de Holy One, blessed be He. Ven He sends dem He
+vill provide for dem. You must not forget, too, dat mid _your_
+daughter de dowry vould be noting so small as a hundred pounds."
+
+"My daughter will have a dowry befitting her station, certainly," said
+Manasseh, with his grandest manner; "but then I had looked forward to
+her marrying a king of _Schnorrers_."
+
+"Vell, but ven I marry her I shall be."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I shall have _schnorred_ your daughter--the most precious thing in
+the world! And _schnorred_ her from a king of _Schnorrers_, too!! And
+I shall have _schnorred_ your services as marriage-broker into de
+bargain!!!"
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE ROYAL WEDDING WAS ARRANGED.
+
+Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa was so impressed by his
+would-be son-in-law's last argument that he perpended it in silence
+for a full minute. When he replied, his tone showed even more respect
+than had been infused into it by the statement of the aspirant's
+income. Manasseh was not of those to whom money is a fetish; he
+regarded it merely as something to be had for the asking. It was
+intellect for which he reserved his admiration. That was strictly not
+transferable.
+
+"It is true," he said, "that if I yielded to your importunities and
+gave you my daughter, you would thereby have approved yourself a king
+of _Schnorrers_, of a rank suitable to my daughter's, but an analysis
+of your argument will show that you are begging the question."
+
+"Vat more proof do you vant of my begging powers?" demanded Yankele,
+spreading out his palms and shrugging his shoulders.
+
+[Illustration: "'VAT MORE PROOF DO YOU VANT?'"]
+
+"Much greater proof," replied Manasseh. "I ought to have some instance
+of your powers. The only time I have seen you try to _schnorr_ you
+failed."
+
+"Me! ven?" exclaimed Yankele indignantly.
+
+"Why, this very night. When you asked young Weinstein for his dead
+father's clothes!"
+
+"But he had already given them away!" protested the Pole.
+
+"What of that? If anyone had given away _my_ clothes, I should have
+demanded compensation. You must really be above rebuffs of that kind,
+Yankele, if you are to be my son-in-law. No, no, I remember the dictum
+of the Sages: 'To give your daughter to an uncultured man is like
+throwing her bound to a lion.'"
+
+"But you have also seen me _schnorr_ mid success," remonstrated the
+suitor.
+
+"Never!" protested Manasseh vehemently.
+
+"Often!"
+
+"From whom?"
+
+"From you!" said Yankele boldly.
+
+"From _me_!" sneered Manasseh, accentuating the pronoun with infinite
+contempt. "What does that prove? I am a generous man. The test is to
+_schnorr_ from a miser."
+
+"I _vill schnorr_ from a miser!" announced Yankele desperately.
+
+"You will!"
+
+"Yes. Choose your miser."
+
+"No, I leave it to you," said da Costa politely.
+
+"Vell, Sam Lazarus, de butcher shop!"
+
+"No, not Sam Lazarus, he once gave a _Schnorrer_ I know elevenpence."
+
+"Elevenpence?" incredulously murmured Yankele.
+
+"Yes, it was the only way he could pass a shilling. It wasn't bad,
+only cracked, but he could get no one to take it except a _Schnorrer_.
+He made the man give him a penny change though. 'Tis true the man
+afterwards laid out the shilling at Lazarus's shop. Still a really
+great miser would have added that cracked shilling to his hoard rather
+than the perfect penny."
+
+"No," argued Yankele, "dere vould be no difference, since he does not
+spend."
+
+"True," said da Costa reflectively, "but by that same token a miser is
+not the most difficult person to tackle."
+
+"How do you make dat out?"
+
+"Is it not obvious? Already we see Lazarus giving away elevenpence. A
+miser who spends nothing on himself may, in exceptional cases, be
+induced to give away something. It is the man who indulges himself in
+every luxury and gives away nothing who is the hardest to _schnorr_
+from. He has a _use_ for his money--himself! If you diminish his store
+you hurt him in the tenderest part--you rob him of creature comforts.
+To _schnorr_ from such a one I should regard as a higher and nobler
+thing than to _schnorr_ from a mere miser."
+
+"Vell, name your man."
+
+"No--I couldn't think of taking it out of your hands," said Manasseh
+again with his stately bow. "Whomever you select I will abide by. If I
+could not rely on your honour, would I dream of you as a son-in-law?"
+
+"Den I vill go to Mendel Jacobs, of Mary Axe."
+
+"Mendel Jacobs--oh, no! Why, he's married! A married man cannot be
+entirely devoted to himself."
+
+"Vy not? Is not a vife a creature comfort? P'raps also she comes
+cheaper dan a housekeeper."
+
+"We will not argue it. I will not have Mendel Jacobs."
+
+"Simon Kelutski, de vine-merchant."
+
+"He! He is quite generous with his snuff-box. I have myself been
+offered a pinch. Of course I did not accept it."
+
+Yankele selected several other names, but Manasseh barred them all,
+and at last had an inspiration of his own.
+
+"Isn't there a Rabbi in your community whose stinginess is proverbial?
+Let me see, what's his name?"
+
+"A Rabbi!" murmured Yankele disingenuously, while his heart began to
+palpitate with alarm.
+
+"Yes, isn't there--Rabbi Bloater!"
+
+Yankele shook his head. Ruin stared him in the face--his fondest hopes
+were crumbling.
+
+"I know it's some fishy name--Rabbi Haddock--no it isn't. It's Rabbi
+Remorse something."
+
+Yankele saw it was all over with him.
+
+"P'raps you mean Rabbi Remorse Red-herring," he said feebly, for his
+voice failed him.
+
+"Ah, yes! Rabbi Remorse Red-herring," said Manasseh. "From all I
+hear--for I have never seen the man--a king of guzzlers and topers,
+and the meanest of mankind. Now if you could dine with _him_ you might
+indeed be called a king of _Schnorrers_."
+
+Yankele was pale and trembling. "But _he_ is married!" he urged, with
+a happy thought.
+
+[Illustration: "THE TREMBLING JEW."]
+
+"Dine with him to-morrow," said Manasseh inexorably. "He fares extra
+royally on the Sabbath. Obtain admission to his table, and you shall
+be admitted into my family."
+
+"But you do not know the man--it is impossible!" cried Yankele.
+
+"That is the excuse of the bad _Schnorrer_. You have heard my
+ultimatum. No dinner, no wife. No wife--no dowry!"
+
+"Vat vould dis dowry be?" asked Yankele, by way of diversion.
+
+"Oh, unique--quite unique. First of all there would be all the money
+she gets from the Synagogue. Our Synagogue gives considerable dowries
+to portionless girls. There are large bequests for the purpose."
+
+Yankele's eyes glittered.
+
+"Ah, vat gentlemen you Spaniards be!"
+
+"Then I daresay I should hand over to my son-in-law all my Jerusalem
+land."
+
+"Have you property in de Holy Land?" said Yankele.
+
+"First class, with an unquestionable title. And, of course, I would
+give you some province or other in this country."
+
+"What!" gasped Yankele.
+
+"Could I do less?" said Manasseh blandly. "My own flesh and blood,
+remember! Ah, here is my door. It is too late to ask you in. Good
+Sabbath! Don't forget your appointment to dine with Rabbi Remorse
+Red-herring to-morrow."
+
+"Good Sabbath!" faltered Yankele, and crawled home heavy-hearted to
+Dinah's Buildings, Tripe Yard, Whitechapel, where the memory of him
+lingers even unto this day.
+
+Rabbi Remorse Red-herring was an unofficial preacher who officiated at
+mourning services in private houses, having a gift of well-turned
+eulogy. He was a big, burly man with overlapping stomach and a red
+beard, and his spiritual consolations drew tears. His clients knew him
+to be vastly self-indulgent in private life, and abstemious in the
+matter of benevolence; but they did not confound the _roles_. As a
+mourning preacher he gave every satisfaction: he was regular and
+punctual, and did not keep the congregation waiting, and he had had
+considerable experience in showing that there was yet balm in Gilead.
+
+He had about five ways of showing it--the variants depending upon the
+circumstances. If, as not infrequently happened, the person deceased
+was a stranger to him, he would enquire in the passage: "Was it man
+or woman? Boy or girl? Married or single? Any children? Young 'uns or
+old 'uns?"
+
+When these questions had been answered, he was ready. He knew exactly
+which of his five consolatory addresses to deliver--they were all
+sufficiently vague and general to cover considerable variety of
+circumstance, and even when he misheard the replies in the passage,
+and dilated on the grief of a departed widower's relict, the results
+were not fatal throughout. The few impossible passages might be
+explained by the mishearing of the audience. Sometimes--very
+rarely--he would venture on a supplementary sentence or two fitting
+the specific occasion, but very cautiously, for a man with a
+reputation for extempore addresses cannot be too wary of speaking on
+the spur of the moment.
+
+Off obituary lines he was a failure; at any rate, his one attempt to
+preach from an English Synagogue pulpit resulted in a nickname. His
+theme was Remorse, which he explained with much care to the
+congregation.
+
+"For instance," said the preacher, "the other day I was walking over
+London Bridge, when I saw a fishwife standing with a basket of
+red-herrings. I says, 'How much?' She says, 'Two for three-halfpence.'
+I says, 'Oh, that's frightfully dear! I can easily get three for
+twopence.' But she wouldn't part with them at that price, so I went
+on, thinking I'd meet another woman with a similar lot over the water.
+They were lovely fat herrings, and my chaps watered in anticipation of
+the treat of eating them. But when I got to the other end of the
+bridge there was no other fishwife to be seen. So I resolved to turn
+back to the first fishwife, for, after all, I reflected, the herrings
+were really very cheap, and I had only complained in the way of
+business. But when I got back the woman was just sold out. I could
+have torn my hair with vexation. Now, that's what I call Remorse."
+
+[Illustration: "'I COULD HAVE TORN MY HAIR.'"]
+
+After that the Rabbi was what the congregation called Remorse; also
+Red-herring.
+
+The Rabbi's fondness for concrete exemplification of abstract ideas
+was not, however, to be stifled, and there was one illustration of
+Charity which found a place in all the five sermons of consolation.
+
+"If you have a pair of old breeches, send them to the Rabbi."
+
+Rabbi Remorse Red-herring was, however, as is the way of preachers,
+himself aught but a concrete exemplification of the virtues he
+inculcated. He lived generously--through other people's
+generosity--but no one could boast of having received a farthing from
+him over and above what was due to them; while _Schnorrers_ (who
+deemed considerable sums due to them) regarded him in the light of a
+defalcating bankrupt. He, for his part, had a countervailing grudge
+against the world, fancying the work he did for it but feebly
+remunerated. "I get so little," ran his bitter plaint, "that I
+couldn't live, _if it were not for the fasts_." And, indeed, the fasts
+of the religion were worth much more to him than to Yankele; his meals
+were so profuse that his savings from this source were quite a little
+revenue. As Yankele had pointed out, he was married. And his wife had
+given him a child, but it died at the age of seven, bequeathing to him
+the only poignant sorrow of his life. He was too jealous to call in a
+rival consolation preacher during those dark days, and none of his own
+five sermons seemed to fit the case. It was some months before he took
+his meals regularly.
+
+At no time had anyone else taken meals in his house, except by law
+entitled. Though she had only two to cook for, his wife habitually
+provided for three, counting her husband no mere unit. Herself she
+reckoned as a half.
+
+It was with intelligible perturbation, therefore, that Yankele,
+dressed in some other man's best, approached the house of Rabbi
+Remorse Red-herring about a quarter of an hour before the Sabbath
+mid-day meal, intent on sharing it with him.
+
+"No dinner, no marriage!" was da Costa's stern ukase.
+
+What wonder if the inaccessible meal took upon itself the grandiosity
+of a wedding feast! Deborah da Costa's lovely face tantalised him like
+a mirage.
+
+The Sabbath day was bleak, but chiller was his heart. The Rabbi had
+apartments in Steward Street, Spitalfields, an elegant suite on the
+ground-floor, for he stinted himself in nothing but charity. At the
+entrance was a porch--a pointed Gothic arch of wood supported by two
+pillars. As Yankele mounted the three wooden steps, breathing as
+painfully as if they were three hundred, and wondering if he would
+ever get merely as far as the other side of the door, he was assailed
+by the temptation to go and dine peacefully at home, and represent to
+da Costa that he had feasted with the Rabbi. Manasseh would never
+know, Manasseh had taken no steps to ascertain if he satisfied the
+test or not. Such carelessness, he told himself in righteous
+indignation, deserved fitting punishment. But, on the other hand, he
+recalled Manasseh's trust in him; Manasseh believed him a man of
+honour, and the patron's elevation of soul awoke an answering chivalry
+in the parasite.
+
+He decided to make the attempt at least, for there would be plenty of
+time to say he had succeeded, after he had failed.
+
+Vibrating with tremors of nobility as well as of apprehension, Yankele
+lifted the knocker. He had no programme, trusting to chance and
+mother-wit.
+
+Mrs. Remorse Red-herring half opened the door.
+
+"I vish to see de Rabbi," he said, putting one foot within.
+
+[Illustration: "'I VISH TO SEE DE RABBI.'"]
+
+"He is engaged," said the wife--a tiny thin creature who had been
+plump and pretty. "He is very busy talking with a gentleman."
+
+"Oh, but I can vait."
+
+"But the Rabbi will be having his dinner soon."
+
+"I can vait till after dinner," said Yankele obligingly.
+
+"Oh, but the Rabbi sits long at table."
+
+"I don't mind," said Yankele with undiminished placidity, "de longer
+de better."
+
+The poor woman looked perplexed. "I'll tell my husband," she said at
+last.
+
+Yankele had an anxious moment in the passage.
+
+"The Rabbi wishes to know what you want," she said when she returned.
+
+"I vant to get married," said Yankele with an inspiration of veracity.
+
+"But my husband doesn't marry people."
+
+"Vy not?"
+
+"He only brings consolation into households," she explained
+ingenuously.
+
+"Vell, I won't get married midout him," Yankele murmured lugubriously.
+
+The little woman went back in bewilderment to her bosom's lord.
+Forthwith out came Rabbi Remorse Red-herring, curiosity and cupidity
+in his eyes. He wore the skull-cap of sanctity, but looked the
+gourmand in spite of it.
+
+"Good Sabbath, sir! What is this about your getting married?"
+
+"It's a long story," said Yankele, "and as your good vife told me your
+dinner is just ready, I mustn't keep you now."
+
+"No, there are still a few minutes before dinner. What is it?"
+
+Yankele shook his head. "I couldn't tink of keeping you in dis
+draughty passage."
+
+"I don't mind. I don't feel any draught."
+
+"Dat's just vere de danger lays. You don't notice, and one day you
+find yourself laid up mid rheumatism, and you vill have Remorse," said
+Yankele with a twinkle. "Your life is precious--if _you_ die, who vill
+console de community?"
+
+It was an ambiguous remark, but the Rabbi understood it in its most
+flattering sense, and his little eyes beamed. "I would ask you
+inside," he said, "but I have a visitor."
+
+"No matter," said Yankele, "vat I have to say to you, Rabbi, is not
+private. A stranger may hear it."
+
+Still undecided, the Rabbi muttered, "You want me to marry you?"
+
+"I have come to get married," replied Yankele.
+
+"But I have never been called upon to marry people."
+
+"It's never too late to mend, dey say."
+
+"Strange--strange," murmured the Rabbi reflectively.
+
+"Vat is strange?"
+
+"That you should come to me just to-day. But why did you not go to
+Rabbi Sandman?"
+
+"Rabbi Sandman!" replied Yankele with contempt. "Vere vould be de good
+of going to him?"
+
+"But why not?"
+
+"Every _Schnorrer_ goes to him," said Yankele frankly.
+
+"Hum!" mused the Rabbi. "Perhaps there _is_ an opening for a more
+select marrier. Come in, then, I can give you five minutes if you
+really don't mind talking before a stranger."
+
+He threw open the door, and led the way into the sitting-room.
+
+Yankele followed, exultant; the outworks were already carried, and his
+heart beat high with hope. But at his first glance within, he reeled
+and almost fell.
+
+Standing with his back to the fire and dominating the room was
+Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa!
+
+"Ah, Yankele, good Sabbath!" said da Costa affably.
+
+"G-g-ood Sabbath!" stammered Yankele.
+
+"Why, you know each other!" cried the Rabbi.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Manasseh, "an acquaintance of yours, too, apparently."
+
+"No, he is just come to see me about something," replied the Rabbi.
+
+"I thought you did not know the Rabbi, Mr. da Costa?" Yankele could
+not help saying.
+
+"I didn't. I only had the pleasure of making his acquaintance half an
+hour ago. I met him in the street as he was coming home from morning
+service, and he was kind enough to invite me to dinner."
+
+Yankele gasped; despite his secret amusement at Manasseh's airs, there
+were moments when the easy magnificence of the man overwhelmed him,
+extorted his reluctant admiration. How in Heaven's name had the
+Spaniard conquered at a blow!
+
+Looking down at the table, he now observed that it was already laid
+for dinner--and for three! He should have been that third. Was it fair
+of Manasseh to handicap him thus? Naturally, there would be infinitely
+less chance of a fourth being invited than a third--to say nothing of
+the dearth of provisions. "But, surely, you don't intend to stay to
+dinner!" he complained in dismay.
+
+"I have given my word," said Manasseh, "and I shouldn't care to
+disappoint the Rabbi."
+
+"Oh, it's no disappointment, no disappointment," remarked Rabbi
+Remorse Red-herring cordially, "I could just as well come round and
+see you after dinner."
+
+"After dinner I never see people," said Manasseh majestically; "I
+sleep."
+
+The Rabbi dared not make further protest: he turned to Yankele and
+asked, "Well, now, what's this about your marriage?"
+
+"I can't tell you before Mr. da Costa," replied Yankele, to gain time.
+
+"Why not? You said anybody might hear."
+
+"Noting of the sort. I said a stranger might hear. But Mr. da Costa
+isn't a stranger. He knows too much about de matter."
+
+"What shall we do, then?" murmured the Rabbi.
+
+"I can vait till after dinner," said Yankele, with good-natured
+carelessness. "_I_ don't sleep--"
+
+Before the Rabbi could reply, the wife brought in a baked dish, and
+set it on the table. Her husband glowered at her, but she, regular as
+clockwork, and as unthinking, produced the black bottle of _schnapps_.
+It was her husband's business to get rid of Yankele; her business was
+to bring on the dinner. If she had delayed, he would have raged
+equally. She was not only wife, but maid-of-all-work.
+
+Seeing the advanced state of the preparations, Manasseh da Costa took
+his seat at the table; obeying her husband's significant glance, Mrs.
+Red-herring took up her position at the foot. The Rabbi himself sat
+down at the head, behind the dish. He always served, being the only
+person he could rely upon to gauge his capacities. Yankele was left
+standing. The odour of the meat and potatoes impregnated the
+atmosphere with wistful poetry.
+
+Suddenly the Rabbi looked up and perceived Yankele. "Will you do as we
+do?" he said in seductive accents.
+
+The _Schnorrer's_ heart gave one wild, mad throb of joy. He laid his
+hand on the only other chair.
+
+"I don't mind if I do," he said, with responsive amiability.
+
+"Then go home and have _your_ dinner," said the Rabbi.
+
+[Illustration: "'THEN GO HOME AND HAVE YOUR DINNER.'"]
+
+Yankele's wild heart-beat was exchanged for a stagnation as of death.
+A shiver ran down his spine. He darted an agonised appealing glance at
+Manasseh, who sniggered inscrutably.
+
+"Oh, I don't tink I ought to go avay and leave you midout a tird man
+for grace," he said, in tones of prophetic rebuke. "Since I _be_ here,
+it vould be a sin not to stay."
+
+The Rabbi, having a certain connection with religion, was cornered; he
+was not able to repudiate such an opportunity of that more pious form
+of grace which needs the presence of three males.
+
+"Oh, I should be very glad for you to stay," said the Rabbi, "but,
+unfortunately, we have only three meat-plates."
+
+"Oh, de dish vill do for me."
+
+"Very well, then!" said the Rabbi.
+
+And Yankele, with the old mad heart-beat, took the fourth chair,
+darting a triumphant glance at the still sniggering Manasseh.
+
+The hostess rose, misunderstanding her husband's optical signals, and
+fished out a knife and fork from the recesses of a chiffonier. The
+host first heaped his own plate high with artistically coloured
+potatoes and stiff meat--less from discourtesy than from life-long
+habit--then divided the remainder in unequal portions between Manasseh
+and the little woman, in rough correspondence with their sizes.
+Finally, he handed Yankele the empty dish.
+
+"You see there is nothing left," he said simply. "We didn't even
+expect one visitor."
+
+"First come, first served," observed Manasseh, with his sphinx-like
+expression, as he fell-to.
+
+Yankele sat frozen, staring blankly at the dish, his brain as empty.
+He had lost.
+
+Such a dinner was a hollow mockery--like the dish. He could not expect
+Manasseh to accept it, quibbled he ever so cunningly. He sat for a
+minute or two as in a dream, the music of knife and fork ringing
+mockingly in his ears, his hungry palate moistened by the delicious
+savour. Then he shook off his stupor, and all his being was
+desperately astrain, questing for an idea. Manasseh discoursed with
+his host on neo-Hebrew literature.
+
+"We thought of starting a journal at Grodno," said the Rabbi, "only
+the funds--"
+
+"Be you den a native of Grodno?" interrupted Yankele.
+
+"Yes, I was born there," mumbled the Rabbi, "but I left there twenty
+years ago." His mouth was full, and he did not cease to ply the
+cutlery.
+
+"Ah!" said Yankele enthusiastically, "den you must be de famous
+preacher everybody speaks of. I do not remember you myself, for I vas
+a boy, but dey say ve haven't got no such preachers nowaday."
+
+"In Grodno my husband kept a brandy shop," put in the hostess.
+
+There was a bad quarter of a minute of silence. To Yankele's relief,
+the Rabbi ended it by observing, "Yes, but doubtless the gentleman
+(you will excuse me calling you that, sir, I don't know your real
+name) alluded to my fame as a boy-Maggid. At the age of five I
+preached to audiences of many hundreds, and my manipulation of texts,
+my demonstrations that they did not mean what they said, drew tears
+even from octogenarians familiar with the Torah from their earliest
+infancy. It was said there never was such a wonder-child since Ben
+Sira."
+
+"But why did you give it up?" enquired Manasseh.
+
+"It gave me up," said the Rabbi, putting down his knife and fork to
+expound an ancient grievance. "A boy-Maggid cannot last more than a
+few years. Up to nine I was still a draw, but every year the wonder
+grew less, and, when I was thirteen, my Bar-Mitzvah (confirmation)
+sermon occasioned no more sensation than those of the many other lads
+whose sermons I had written for them. I struggled along as boyishly as
+I could for some time after that, but it was in a losing cause. My age
+won on me daily. As it is said, 'I have been young, and now I am old.'
+In vain I composed the most eloquent addresses to be heard in Grodno.
+In vain I gave a course on the emotions, with explanations and
+instances from daily life--the fickle public preferred younger
+attractions. So at last I gave it up and sold _vodki_."
+
+[Illustration: "'SOLD VODKI.'"]
+
+"Vat a pity! Vat a pity!" ejaculated Yankele, "after vinning fame in
+de Torah!"
+
+"But what is a man to do? He is not always a boy," replied the Rabbi.
+"Yes, I kept a brandy shop. That's what I call Degradation. But there
+is always balm in Gilead. I lost so much money over it that I had to
+emigrate to England, where, finding nothing else to do, I became a
+preacher again." He poured himself out a glass of _schnapps_, ignoring
+the water.
+
+"I heard nothing of de _vodki_ shop," said Yankele; "it vas svallowed
+up in your earlier fame."
+
+The Rabbi drained the glass of _schnapps_, smacked his lips, and
+resumed his knife and fork. Manasseh reached for the unoffered bottle,
+and helped himself liberally. The Rabbi unostentatiously withdrew it
+beyond his easy reach, looking at Yankele the while.
+
+"How long have you been in England?" he asked the Pole.
+
+"Not long," said Yankele.
+
+"Ha! Does Gabriel the cantor still suffer from neuralgia?"
+
+Yankele looked sad. "No--he is dead," he said.
+
+"Dear me! Well, he was tottering when I knew him. His blowing of the
+ram's horn got wheezier every year. And how is his young brother,
+Samuel?"
+
+"He is dead!" said Yankele.
+
+"What, he too! Tut, tut! He was so robust. Has Mendelssohn, the
+stonemason, got many more girls?"
+
+"He is dead!" said Yankele.
+
+"Nonsense!" gasped the Rabbi, dropping his knife and fork. "Why, I
+heard from him only a few months ago."
+
+"He is dead!" said Yankele.
+
+"Good gracious me! Mendelssohn dead!" After a moment of emotion he
+resumed his meal. "But his sons and daughters are all doing well, I
+hope. The eldest, Solomon, was a most pious youth, and his third girl,
+Neshamah, promised to be a rare beauty."
+
+"They are dead!" said Yankele.
+
+This time the Rabbi turned pale as a corpse himself. He laid down his
+knife and fork automatically.
+
+"D--dead," he breathed in an awestruck whisper. "All?"
+
+"Everyone. De same cholera took all de family."
+
+The Rabbi covered his face with his hands. "Then poor Solomon's wife
+is a widow. I hope he left her enough to live upon."
+
+"No, but it doesn't matter," said Yankele.
+
+"It matters a great deal," cried the Rabbi.
+
+"She is dead," said Yankele.
+
+"Rebecca Schwartz dead!" screamed the Rabbi, for he had once loved the
+maiden himself, and, not having married her, had still a tenderness
+for her.
+
+"Rebecca Schwartz," repeated Yankele inexorably.
+
+"Was it the cholera?" faltered the Rabbi.
+
+"No, she vas heart-broke."
+
+Rabbi Remorse Red-herring silently pushed his plate away, and leaned
+his elbows upon the table and his face upon his palms, and his chin
+upon the bottle of _schnapps_ in mournful meditation.
+
+[Illustration: "IN MOURNFUL MEDITATION."]
+
+"You are not eating, Rabbi," said Yankele insinuatingly.
+
+"I have lost my appetite," said the Rabbi.
+
+"Vat a pity to let food get cold and spoil! You'd better eat it."
+
+The Rabbi shook his head querulously.
+
+"Den I vill eat it," cried Yankele indignantly. "Good hot food like
+dat!"
+
+"As you like," said the Rabbi wearily. And Yankele began to eat at
+lightning speed, pausing only to wink at the inscrutable Manasseh; and
+to cast yearning glances at the inaccessible _schnapps_ that supported
+the Rabbi's chin.
+
+Presently the Rabbi looked up: "You're quite sure all these people are
+dead?" he asked with a dawning suspicion.
+
+"May my blood be poured out like this _schnapps_," protested Yankele,
+dislodging the bottle, and vehemently pouring the spirit into a
+tumbler, "if dey be not."
+
+The Rabbi relapsed into his moody attitude, and retained it till his
+wife brought in a big willow-pattern china dish of stewed prunes and
+pippins. She produced four plates for these, and so Yankele finished
+his meal in the unquestionable status of a first-class guest. The
+Rabbi was by this time sufficiently recovered to toy with two
+platefuls in a melancholy silence which he did not break till his
+mouth opened involuntarily to intone the grace.
+
+[Illustration: "PRUNES AND PIPPINS."]
+
+When grace was over he turned to Manasseh and said, "And what was this
+way you were suggesting to me of getting a profitable Sephardic
+connection?"
+
+"I did, indeed, wonder why you did not extend your practice as
+consolation preacher among the Spanish Jews," replied Manasseh
+gravely. "But after what we have just heard of the death-rate of Jews
+in Grodno, I should seriously advise you to go back there."
+
+"No, they cannot forget that I was once a boy," replied the Rabbi with
+equal gravity. "I prefer the Spanish Jews. They are all well-to-do.
+They may not die so often as the Russians, but they die better, so to
+speak. You will give me introductions, you will speak of me to your
+illustrious friends, I understand."
+
+"You understand!" repeated Manasseh in dignified astonishment. "You do
+not understand. I shall do no such thing."
+
+"But you yourself suggested it!" cried the Rabbi excitedly.
+
+"I? Nothing of the kind. I had heard of you and your ministrations to
+mourners, and meeting you in the street this afternoon for the first
+time, it struck me to enquire why you did not carry your consolations
+into the bosom of my community where so much more money is to be made.
+I said I wondered you had not done so from the first. And you--invited
+me to dinner. I still wonder. That is all, my good man." He rose to
+go.
+
+The haughty rebuke silenced the Rabbi, though his heart was hot with a
+vague sense of injury.
+
+"Do you come my way, Yankele?" said Manasseh carelessly.
+
+The Rabbi turned hastily to his second guest.
+
+"When do you want me to marry you?" he asked.
+
+"You have married me," replied Yankele.
+
+"I?" gasped the Rabbi. It was the last straw.
+
+"Yes," reiterated Yankele. "Hasn't he, Mr. da Costa?"
+
+His heart went pit-a-pat as he put the question.
+
+"Certainly," said Manasseh without hesitation.
+
+Yankele's face was made glorious summer. Only two of the quartette
+knew the secret of his radiance.
+
+"There, Rabbi," he cried exultantly. "Good Sabbath!"
+
+"Good Sabbath!" added Manasseh.
+
+"Good Sabbath," dazedly murmured the Rabbi.
+
+"Good Sabbath," added his wife.
+
+"Congratulate me!" cried Yankele when they got outside.
+
+"On what?" asked Manasseh.
+
+"On being your future son-in-law, of course."
+
+"Oh, on _that_? Certainly, I congratulate you most heartily." The two
+_Schnorrers_ shook hands. "I thought you were asking for compliments
+on your manoeuvring."
+
+"Vy, doesn't it deserve dem?"
+
+"No," said Manasseh magisterially.
+
+"No?" queried Yankele, his heart sinking again. "Vy not?"
+
+"Why did you kill so many people?"
+
+"Somebody must die dat I may live."
+
+"You said that before," said Manasseh severely. "A good _Schnorrer_
+would not have slaughtered so many for his dinner. It is a waste of
+good material. And then you told lies!"
+
+"How do you know they are not dead?" pleaded Yankele.
+
+The King shook his head reprovingly. "A first-class _Schnorrer_ never
+lies," he laid it down.
+
+"I might have made truth go as far as a lie--if you hadn't come to
+dinner yourself."
+
+"What is that you say? Why, I came to encourage you by showing you how
+easy your task was."
+
+"On de contrary, you made it much harder for me. Dere vas no dinner
+left."
+
+"But against that you must reckon that since the Rabbi had already
+invited one person, he couldn't be so hard to tackle as I had
+fancied."
+
+"Oh, but you must not judge from yourself," protested Yankele. "You be
+not a _Schnorrer_--you be a miracle."
+
+"But I should like a miracle for my son-in-law also," grumbled the
+King.
+
+"And if you had to _schnorr_ a son-in-law, you vould get a miracle,"
+said Yankele soothingly. "As he has to _schnorr_ you, _he_ gets the
+miracle."
+
+"True," observed Manasseh musingly, "and I think you might therefore
+be very well content without the dowry."
+
+"So I might," admitted Yankele, "only _you_ vould not be content to
+break your promise. I suppose I shall have some of de dowry on de
+marriage morning."
+
+"On that morning you shall get my daughter--without fail. Surely that
+will be enough for one day!"
+
+"Vell, ven do I get de money your daughter gets from de Synagogue?"
+
+"When she gets it from the Synagogue, of course."
+
+"How much vill it be?"
+
+"It may be a hundred and fifty pounds," said Manasseh pompously.
+
+Yankele's eyes sparkled.
+
+"And it may be less," added Manasseh as an after-thought.
+
+"How much less?" enquired Yankele anxiously.
+
+"A hundred and fifty pounds," repeated Manasseh pompously.
+
+"D'you mean to say I may get noting?"
+
+"Certainly, if she gets nothing. What I promised you was the money she
+gets from the Synagogue. Should she be fortunate enough in the
+_sorteo_--"
+
+"De _sorteo_! Vat is dat?"
+
+"The dowry I told you of. It is accorded by lot. My daughter has as
+good a chance as any other maiden. By winning her you stand to win a
+hundred and fifty pounds. It is a handsome amount. There are not many
+fathers who would do as much for their daughters," concluded Manasseh
+with conscious magnanimity.
+
+"But about de Jerusalem estate!" said Yankele, shifting his
+standpoint. "I don't vant to go and live dere. De Messiah is not yet
+come."
+
+"No, you will hardly be able to live on it," admitted Manasseh.
+
+"You do not object to my selling it, den?"
+
+"Oh, no! If you are so sordid, if you have no true Jewish sentiment!"
+
+"Ven can I come into possession?"
+
+"On the wedding day if you like."
+
+"One may as vell get it over," said Yankele, suppressing a desire to
+rub his hands in glee. "As de Talmud says, 'One peppercorn to-day is
+better dan a basketful of pumpkins to-morrow.'"
+
+"All right! I will bring it to the Synagogue."
+
+"Bring it to de Synagogue!" repeated Yankele in amaze. "Oh, you mean
+de deed of transfer."
+
+"The deed of transfer! Do you think I waste my substance on
+solicitors? No, I will bring the property itself."
+
+"But how can you do dat?"
+
+"Where is the difficulty?" demanded Manasseh with withering contempt.
+"Surely a child could carry a casket of Jerusalem earth to Synagogue!"
+
+"A casket of earth! Is your property in Jerusalem only a casket of
+earth?"
+
+"What then? You didn't expect it would be a casket of diamonds?"
+retorted Manasseh, with gathering wrath. "To a true Jew a casket of
+Jerusalem earth is worth all the diamonds in the world."
+
+"But your Jerusalem property is a fraud!" gasped Yankele.
+
+"Oh, no, you may be easy on that point. It's quite genuine. I know
+there is a good deal of spurious Palestine earth in circulation, and
+that many a dead man who has clods of it thrown into his tomb is
+nevertheless buried in unholy soil. But this casket I was careful to
+obtain from a Rabbi of extreme sanctity. It was the only thing he had
+worth _schnorring_."
+
+"I don't suppose I shall get more dan a crown for it," said Yankele,
+with irrepressible indignation.
+
+"That's what I say," returned Manasseh; "and never did I think a
+son-in-law of mine would meditate selling my holy soil for a paltry
+five shillings! I will not withdraw my promise, but I am disappointed
+in you--bitterly disappointed. Had I known this earth was not to cover
+your bones, it should have gone down to the grave with me, as enjoined
+in my last will and testament, by the side of which it stands in my
+safe."
+
+"Very vell, I von't sell it," said Yankele sulkily.
+
+"You relieve my soul. As the _Mishnah_ says, 'He who marries a wife
+for money begets froward children.'"
+
+"And vat about de province in England?" asked Yankele, in low,
+despondent tones. He had never believed in _that_, but now, behind all
+his despair and incredulity, was a vague hope that something might yet
+be saved from the crash.
+
+"Oh, you shall choose your own," replied Manasseh graciously. "We will
+get a large map of London, and I will mark off in red pencil the
+domain in which I _schnorr_. You will then choose any district in
+this--say, two main streets and a dozen byways and alleys--which
+shall be marked off in blue pencil, and whatever province of my
+kingdom you pick, I undertake not to _schnorr_ in, from your
+wedding-day onwards. I need not tell you how valuable such a province
+already is; under careful administration, such as you would be able to
+give it, the revenue from it might be doubled, trebled. I do not think
+your tribute to me need be more than ten per cent."
+
+Yankele walked along mesmerised, reduced to somnambulism by his
+magnificently masterful patron.
+
+"Oh, here we are!" said Manasseh, stopping short. "Won't you come in
+and see the bride, and wish her joy?"
+
+A flash of joy came into Yankele's own face, dissipating his glooms.
+After all there was always da Costa's beautiful daughter--a solid,
+substantial satisfaction. He was glad she was not an item of the
+dowry.
+
+The unconscious bride opened the door.
+
+[Illustration: "THE UNCONSCIOUS BRIDE OPENED THE DOOR."]
+
+"Ah, ha, Yankele!" said Manasseh, his paternal heart aglow at the
+sight of her loveliness. "You will be not only a king, but a rich
+king. As it is written, 'Who is rich? He who hath a beautiful wife.'"
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE KING DISSOLVED THE MAHAMAD.
+
+Manasseh da Costa (thus docked of his nominal plenitude in the solemn
+writ) had been summoned before the Mahamad, the intended union of his
+daughter with a Polish Jew having excited the liveliest horror and
+displeasure in the breasts of the Elders of the Synagogue. Such a Jew
+did not pronounce Hebrew as they did!
+
+[Illustration: "THE ELDERS OF THE SYNAGOGUE."]
+
+The Mahamad was a Council of Five, no less dread than the more
+notorious Council of Ten. Like the Venetian Tribunal, which has
+unjustly monopolised the attention of history, it was of annual
+election, and it was elected by a larger body of Elders, just as the
+Council of Ten was chosen by the aristocracy. "The gentlemen of the
+Mahamad," as they were styled, administered the affairs of the
+Spanish-Portuguese community, and their oligarchy would undoubtedly be
+a byword for all that is arbitrary and inquisitorial but for the
+widespread ignorance of its existence. To itself the Mahamad was the
+centre of creation. On one occasion it refused to bow even to the
+authority of the Lord Mayor of London. A Sephardic Jew lived and moved
+and had his being "by permission of the Mahamad." Without its consent
+he could have no legitimate place in the scheme of things. Minus "the
+permission of the Mahamad" he could not marry; with it he could be
+divorced readily. He might, indeed, die without the sanction of the
+Council of Five, but this was the only great act of his life which was
+free from its surveillance, and he could certainly not be buried save
+"by permission of the Mahamad." The Haham himself, the Sage or Chief
+Rabbi of the congregation, could not unite his flock in holy wedlock
+without the "permission of the Mahamad." And this authority was not
+merely negative and passive, it was likewise positive and active. To
+be a Yahid--a recognised congregant--one had to submit one's neck to a
+yoke more galling even than that of the Torah, to say nothing of the
+payment of Finta, or poll-tax. Woe to him who refused to be Warden of
+the Captives--he who ransomed the chained hostages of the Moorish
+Corsairs, or the war prisoners held in durance by the Turks--or to be
+President of the Congregation, or Parnass of the Holy Land, or
+Bridegroom of the Law, or any of the numerous dignitaries of a complex
+constitution. Fines, frequent and heavy--for the benefit of the
+poor-box--awaited him "by permission of the Mahamad." Unhappy the
+wight who misconducted himself in Synagogue "by offending the
+president, or grossly insulting any other person," as the ordinance
+deliciously ran. Penalties, stringent and harrying, visited these and
+other offences--deprivation of the "good deeds," of swathing the Holy
+Scroll, or opening the Ark; ignominious relegation to seats behind the
+reading-desk, withdrawal of the franchise, prohibition against shaving
+for a term of weeks! And if, accepting office, the Yahid failed in the
+punctual and regular discharge of his duties, he was mulcted and
+chastised none the less. A fine of forty pounds drove from the
+Synagogue Isaac Disraeli, collector of _Curiosities of Literature_,
+and made possible that curiosity of politics, the career of Lord
+Beaconsfield. The fathers of the Synagogue, who drew up their
+constitution in pure Castilian in the days when Pepys noted the
+indecorum in their little Synagogue in King Street, meant their
+statutes to cement, not thus to disintegrate, the community. 'Twas a
+tactless tyranny, this of the Mahamad, an inelastic administration of
+a cast-iron codex wrought "in good King Charles's golden days," when
+the colony of Dutch-Spanish exiles was as a camp in enemies' country,
+in need of military _regime_; and it co-operated with the attractions
+of an unhampered "Christian" career in driving many a brilliant family
+beyond the gates of the Ghetto, and into the pages of Debrett. Athens
+is always a dangerous rival to Sparta.
+
+But the Mahamad itself moved strictly in the grooves of prescription.
+That legalistic instinct of the Hebrew, which had evolved the most
+gigantic and minute code of conduct in the world, had beguiled these
+latter-day Jews into super-adding to it a local legislation that grew
+into two hundred pages of Portuguese--an intertangled network of
+_Ascamot_ or regulations, providing for every contingency of Synagogue
+politics, from the quarrels of members for the best seats down to the
+dimensions of their graves in the _Carreira_, from the distribution of
+"good deeds" among the rich to the distribution of Passover Cakes
+among the poor. If the wheels and pulleys of the communal life moved
+"by permission of the Mahamad," the Mahamad moved by permission of the
+_Ascamot_.
+
+The Solemn Council was met--"in complete Mahamad." Even the Chief of
+the Elders was present, by virtue of his privilege, making a sixth;
+not to count the Chancellor or Secretary, who sat flutteringly
+fingering the Portuguese Minute Book on the right of the President. He
+was a little man, an odd medley of pomp and bluster, with a
+snuff-smeared upper lip, and a nose that had dipped in the wine when
+it was red. He had a grandiose sense of his own importance, but it was
+a pride that had its roots in humility, for he felt himself great
+because he was the servant of greatness. He lived "by permission of
+the Mahamad." As an official he was theoretically inaccessible. If you
+approached him on a matter he would put out his palms deprecatingly
+and pant, "I must consult the Mahamad." It was said of him that he had
+once been asked the time, and that he had automatically panted, "I
+must consult the Mahamad." This consultation was the merest form; in
+practice the Secretary had more influence than the Chief Rabbi, who
+was not allowed to recommend an applicant for charity, for the quaint
+reason that the respect entertained for him might unduly prejudice the
+Council in favour of his candidate. As no gentleman of the Mahamad
+could possibly master the statutes in his year of office, especially
+as only a rare member understood the Portuguese in which they had been
+ultimately couched, the Secretary was invariably referred to, for he
+was permanent, full of saws and precedents, and so he interpreted the
+law with impartial inaccuracy--"by permission of the Mahamad." In his
+heart of hearts he believed that the sun rose and the rain fell--"by
+permission of the Mahamad."
+
+The Council Chamber was of goodly proportions, and was decorated by
+gold lettered panels, inscribed with the names of pious donors, thick
+as saints in a graveyard, overflowing even into the lobby. The flower
+and chivalry of the Spanish Jewry had sat round that Council-table,
+grandees who had plumed and ruffled it with the bloods of their day,
+clanking their swords with the best, punctilious withal and
+ceremonious, with the stately Castilian courtesy still preserved by
+the men who were met this afternoon, to whom their memory was as faint
+as the fading records of the panels. These descendants of theirs had
+still elaborate salutations and circumlocutions, and austere dignities
+of debate. "God-fearing men of capacity and respectability," as the
+_Ascama_ demanded, they were also men of money, and it gave them a
+port and a repose. His Britannic Majesty graced the throne no better
+than the President of the Mahamad, seated at the head of the long
+table in his alcoved arm-chair, with the Chief of the Elders on his
+left, and the Chancellor on his right, and his Councillors all about
+him. The westering sun sent a pencil of golden light through the
+Norman windows as if anxious to record the names of those present in
+gilt letters--"by permission of the Mahamad."
+
+[Illustration: "THE PRESIDENT OF THE MAHAMAD."]
+
+"Let da Costa enter," said the President, when the agenda demanded the
+great _Schnorrer's_ presence.
+
+The Chancellor fluttered to his feet, fussily threw open the door, and
+beckoned vacancy with his finger till he discovered Manasseh was not
+in the lobby. The beadle came hurrying up instead.
+
+[Illustration: "BECKONED WITH HIS FINGER."]
+
+"Where is da Costa?" panted the Chancellor. "Call da Costa."
+
+"Da Costa!" sonorously intoned the beadle with the long-drawn accent
+of court ushers.
+
+The corridor rang hollow, empty of Manasseh. "Why, he was here a
+moment ago," cried the bewildered beadle. He ran down the passage, and
+found him sure enough at the end of it where it abutted on the street.
+The King of _Schnorrers_ was in dignified converse with a person of
+consideration.
+
+"Da Costa!" the beadle cried again, but his tone was less awesome and
+more tetchy. The beggar did not turn his head.
+
+"Mr. da Costa," said the beadle, now arrived too near the imposing
+figure to venture on familiarities with it. This time the beggar gave
+indications of restored hearing. "Yes, my man," he said, turning and
+advancing a few paces to meet the envoy. "Don't go, Grobstock," he
+called over his shoulder.
+
+"Didn't you hear me calling?" grumbled the beadle.
+
+"I heard you calling da Costa, but I naturally imagined it was one of
+your drinking companions," replied Manasseh severely.
+
+"The Mahamad is waiting for you," faltered the beadle.
+
+"Tell _the gentlemen_ of the Mahamad," said Manasseh, with reproving
+emphasis, "that I shall do myself the pleasure of being with them
+presently. Nay, pray don't hurry away, my dear Grobstock," he went on,
+resuming his place at the German magnate's side--"and so your wife is
+taking the waters at Tunbridge Wells. In faith, 'tis an excellent
+regimen for the vapours. I am thinking of sending my wife to
+Buxton--the warden of our hospital has his country-seat there."
+
+"But you are wanted," murmured Grobstock, who was anxious to escape.
+He had caught the _Schnorrer's_ eye as its owner sunned himself in the
+archway, and it held him.
+
+"'Tis only a meeting of the Mahamad I have to attend," he said
+indifferently. "Rather a nuisance--but duty is duty."
+
+Grobstock's red face became a setting for two expanded eyes.
+
+"I thought the Mahamad was your chief Council," he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, there are only five of us," said Manasseh lightly, and, while
+Grobstock gaped incredulous, the Chancellor himself shambled up in
+pale consternation.
+
+"You are keeping the gentlemen of the Mahamad waiting," he panted
+imperiously.
+
+"Ah, you are right, Grobstock," said Manasseh with a sigh of
+resignation. "They cannot get on without me. Well, you will excuse me,
+I know. I am glad to have seen you again--we shall finish our chat at
+your house some evening, shall we? I have agreeable recollections of
+your hospitality."
+
+"My wife will be away all this month," Grobstock repeated feebly.
+
+"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Manasseh roguishly. "Thank you for the reminder.
+I shall not fail to aid you in taking advantage of her absence.
+Perhaps mine will be away, too--at Buxton. Two bachelors, ha! ha! ha!"
+and, proffering his hand, he shook Grobstock's in gracious farewell.
+Then he sauntered leisurely in the wake of the feverishly impatient
+Chancellor, his staff tapping the stones in measured tardiness.
+
+[Illustration: "'HA! HA! HA!' LAUGHED MANASSEH."]
+
+"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he observed affably as he entered the
+Council Chamber.
+
+"You have kept us waiting," sharply rejoined the President of the
+Mahamad, ruffled out of his regal suavity. He was a puffy, swarthy
+personage, elegantly attired, and he leaned forward on his velvet
+throne, tattooing on the table with bediamonded fingers.
+
+"Not so long as you have kept _me_ waiting," said Manasseh with quiet
+resentment. "If I had known you expected me to cool my heels in the
+corridor I should not have come, and, had not my friend the Treasurer
+of the Great Synagogue opportunely turned up to chat with me, I should
+not have stayed."
+
+"You are impertinent, sir," growled the President.
+
+"I think, sir, it is you who owe me an apology," maintained Manasseh
+unflinchingly, "and, knowing the courtesy and high breeding which has
+always distinguished your noble family, I can only explain your
+present tone by your being unaware I have a grievance. No doubt it is
+your Chancellor who cited me to appear at too early an hour."
+
+The President, cooled by the quiet dignity of the beggar, turned a
+questioning glance upon the outraged Chancellor, who was crimson and
+quivering with confusion and indignation.
+
+"It is usual t-t-to summon persons before the c-c-commencement of the
+meeting," he stammered hotly. "We cannot tell how long the prior
+business will take."
+
+"Then I would respectfully submit to the Chief of the Elders," said
+Manasseh, "that at the next meeting of his august body he move a
+resolution that persons cited to appear before the Mahamad shall take
+precedence of all other business."
+
+The Chief of the Elders looked helplessly at the President of the
+Mahamad, who was equally at sea. "However, I will not press that point
+now," added Manasseh, "nor will I draw the attention of the committee
+to the careless, perfunctory manner in which the document summoning me
+was drawn up, so that, had I been a stickler for accuracy, I need not
+have answered to the name of Manasseh da Costa."
+
+"But that _is_ your name," protested the Chancellor.
+
+"If you will examine the Charity List," said Manasseh magnificently,
+"you will see that my name is Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da
+Costa. But you are keeping the gentlemen of the Mahamad waiting." And
+with a magnanimous air of dismissing the past, he seated himself on
+the nearest empty chair at the foot of the table, leaned his elbows on
+the table, and his face on his hands, and gazed across at the
+President immediately opposite. The Councillors were so taken aback by
+his unexpected bearing that this additional audacity was scarcely
+noted. But the Chancellor, wounded in his inmost instincts, exclaimed
+irately, "Stand up, sir. These chairs are for the gentlemen of the
+Mahamad."
+
+"And being gentlemen," added Manasseh crushingly, "they know better
+than to keep an old man on his legs any longer."
+
+"If you were a gentleman," retorted the Chancellor, "you would take
+that thing off your head."
+
+"If you were not a Man-of-the-Earth," rejoined the beggar, "you would
+know that it is not a mark of disrespect for the Mahamad, but of
+respect for the Law, which is higher than the Mahamad. The rich man
+can afford to neglect our holy religion, but the poor man has only the
+Law. It is his sole luxury."
+
+The pathetic tremor in his voice stirred a confused sense of
+wrong-doing and injustice in the Councillors' breasts. The President
+felt vaguely that the edge of his coming impressive rebuke had been
+turned, if, indeed, he did not sit rebuked instead. Irritated, he
+turned on the Chancellor, and bade him hold his peace.
+
+"He means well," said Manasseh deprecatingly. "He cannot be expected
+to have the fine instincts of the gentlemen of the Mahamad. May I ask
+you, sir," he concluded, "to proceed with the business for which you
+have summoned me? I have several appointments to keep with clients."
+
+The President's bediamonded fingers recommenced their ill-tempered
+tattoo; he was fuming inwardly with a sense of baffled wrath, of
+righteous indignation made unrighteous. "Is it true, sir," he burst
+forth at last in the most terrible accents he could command in the
+circumstances, "that you meditate giving your daughter in marriage to
+a Polish Jew?"
+
+"No," replied Manasseh curtly.
+
+"No?" articulated the President, while a murmur of astonishment went
+round the table at this unexpected collapse of the whole case.
+
+"Why, your daughter admitted it to my wife," said the Councillor on
+Manasseh's right.
+
+Manasseh turned to him, expostulant, tilting his chair and body
+towards him. "My daughter is going to marry a Polish Jew," he
+explained with argumentative forefinger, "but I do not meditate giving
+her to him."
+
+"Oh, then, you will refuse your consent," said the Councillor,
+hitching his chair back so as to escape the beggar's progressive
+propinquity. "By no means," quoth Manasseh in surprised accents, as he
+drew his chair nearer again, "I have already consented. I do not
+_meditate_ consenting. That word argues an inconclusive attitude."
+
+"None of your quibbles, sirrah," cried the President, while a scarlet
+flush mantled on his dark countenance. "Do you not know that the union
+you contemplate is disgraceful and degrading to you, to your daughter,
+and to the community which has done so much for you? What! A Sephardi
+marry a Tedesco! Shameful."
+
+"And do you think I do not feel the shame as deeply as you?" enquired
+Manasseh, with infinite pathos. "Do you think, gentlemen, that I have
+not suffered from this passion of a Tedesco for my daughter? I came
+here expecting your sympathy, and do you offer me reproach? Perhaps
+you think, sir"--here he turned again to his right-hand neighbour,
+who, in his anxiety to evade his pertinacious proximity, had
+half-wheeled his chair round, offering only his back to the
+argumentative forefinger--"perhaps you think, because I have
+consented, that I cannot condole with you, that I am not at one with
+you in lamenting this blot on our common 'scutcheon; perhaps you
+think"--here he adroitly twisted his chair into argumentative
+position on the other side of the Councillor, rounding him like a
+cape--"that, because you have no sympathy with my tribulation, I have
+no sympathy with yours. But, if I have consented, it is only because
+it was the best I could do for my daughter. In my heart of hearts I
+have repudiated her, so that she may practically be considered an
+orphan, and, as such, a fit person to receive the marriage dowry
+bequeathed by Rodriguez Real, peace be upon him."
+
+"This is no laughing matter, sir," thundered the President, stung into
+forgetfulness of his dignity by thinking too much of it.
+
+"No, indeed," said Manasseh sympathetically, wheeling to the right so
+as to confront the President, who went on stormily, "Are you aware,
+sir, of the penalties you risk by persisting in your course?"
+
+"I risk no penalties," replied the beggar.
+
+"Indeed! Then do you think anyone may trample with impunity upon our
+ancient _Ascamot_?"
+
+"Our ancient _Ascamot_!" repeated Manasseh in surprise. "What have
+they to say against a Sephardi marrying a Tedesco?"
+
+The audacity of the question rendered the Council breathless. Manasseh
+had to answer it himself.
+
+"They have nothing to say. There is no such _Ascama_." There was a
+moment of awful silence. It was as though he had disavowed the
+Decalogue.
+
+"Do you question the first principle of our constitution?" said the
+President at last, in low, ominous tones. "Do you deny that your
+daughter is a traitress? Do you--?"
+
+"Ask your Chancellor," calmly interrupted Manasseh. "He is a
+Man-of-the-Earth, but he should know your statutes, and he will tell
+you that my daughter's conduct is nowhere forbidden."
+
+"Silence, sir," cried the President testily. "Mr. Chancellor, read the
+_Ascama_."
+
+The Chancellor wriggled on his chair, his face flushing and paling by
+turns; all eyes were bent upon him in anxious suspense. He hemmed and
+ha'd and coughed, and took snuff, and blew his nose elaborately.
+
+"There is n-n-no express _Ascama_," he stuttered at last. Manasseh sat
+still, in unpretentious triumph.
+
+The Councillor who was now become his right-hand neighbour was the
+first to break the dazed silence, and it was his first intervention.
+
+"Of course, it was never actually put into writing," he said in stern
+reproof. "It has never been legislated against, because it has never
+been conceived possible. These things are an instinct with every
+right-minded Sephardi. Have we ever legislated against marrying
+Christians?" Manasseh veered round half a point of the compass, and
+fixed the new opponent with his argumentative forefinger. "Certainly
+we have," he replied unexpectedly. "In Section XX., Paragraph II." He
+quoted the _Ascama_ by heart, rolling out the sonorous Portuguese like
+a solemn indictment. "If our legislators had intended to prohibit
+intermarriage with the German community, they would have prohibited
+it."
+
+"There is the Traditional Law as well as the Written," said the
+Chancellor, recovering himself. "It is so in our holy religion, it is
+so in our constitution."
+
+"Yes, there are precedents assuredly," cried the President eagerly.
+
+"There is the case of one of our Treasurers in the time of George
+II.," said the little Chancellor, blossoming under the sunshine of the
+President's encouragement, and naming the ancestor of a Duchess of
+to-day. "He wanted to marry a beautiful German Jewess."
+
+"And was interdicted," said the President.
+
+"Hem!" coughed the Chancellor. "He--he was only permitted to marry her
+under humiliating conditions. The Elders forbade the attendance of the
+members of the House of Judgment, or of the Cantors; no celebration
+was to take place in the _Snoga_; no offerings were to be made for the
+bridegroom's health, nor was he even to receive the bridegroom's call
+to the reading of the Law."
+
+[Illustration: "'HEM!' COUGHED THE CHANCELLOR."]
+
+"But the Elders will not impose any such conditions on my son-in-law,"
+said Manasseh, skirting round another chair so as to bring his
+forefinger to play upon the Chief of the Elders, on whose left he had
+now arrived in his argumentative advances. "In the first place he is
+not one of us. His desire to join us is a compliment. If anyone has
+offended your traditions, it is my daughter. But then she is not a
+male, like the Treasurer cited; she is not an active agent, she has
+not gone out of her way to choose a Tedesco--she has been chosen. Your
+masculine precedents cannot touch her."
+
+"Ay, but we can touch you," said the contemporary Treasurer,
+guffawing grimly. He sat opposite Manasseh, and next to the
+Chancellor.
+
+"Is it fines you are thinking of?" said Manasseh with a scornful
+glance across the table. "Very well, fine me--if you can afford it.
+You know that I am a student, a son of the Law, who has no resources
+but what you allow him. If you care to pay this fine it is your
+affair. There is always room in the poor-box. I am always glad to hear
+of fines. You had better make up your mind to the inevitable,
+gentlemen. Have I not had to do it? There is no _Ascama_ to prevent my
+son-in-law having all the usual privileges--in fact, it was to ask
+that he might receive the bridegroom's call to the Law on the Sabbath
+before his marriage that I really came. By Section III., Paragraph I.,
+you are empowered to admit any person about to marry the daughter of a
+Yahid." Again the sonorous Portuguese rang out, thrilling the
+Councillors with all that quintessential awfulness of ancient statutes
+in a tongue not understood. It was not till a quarter of a century
+later that the _Ascamot_ were translated into English, and from that
+moment their authority was doomed.
+
+The Chancellor was the first to recover from the quotation. Daily
+contact with these archaic sanctities had dulled his awe, and the
+President's impotent irritation spurred him to action.
+
+"But you are _not_ a Yahid," he said quietly. "By Paragraph V. of the
+same section, any one whose name appears on the Charity List ceases to
+be a Yahid."
+
+"And a vastly proper law," said Manasseh with irony. "Everybody may
+vote but the _Schnorrer_." And, ignoring the Chancellor's point at
+great length, he remarked confidentially to the Chief of the Elders,
+at whose elbow he was still encamped, "It is curious how few of your
+Elders perceive that those who take the charity are the pillars of
+the Synagogue. What keeps your community together? Fines. What ensures
+respect for your constitution? Fines. What makes every man do his
+duty? Fines. What rules this very Mahamad? Fines. And it is the poor
+who provide an outlet for all these moneys. Egad, do you think your
+members would for a moment tolerate your penalties, if they did not
+know the money was laid out in 'good deeds'? Charity is the salt of
+riches, says the Talmud, and, indeed, it is the salt that preserves
+your community."
+
+"Have done, sir, have done!" shouted the President, losing all regard
+for those grave amenities of the ancient Council Chamber which
+Manasseh did his best to maintain. "Do you forget to whom you are
+talking?"
+
+"I am talking to the Chief of the Elders," said Manasseh in a wounded
+tone, "but if you would like me to address myself to you--" and
+wheeling round the Chief of the Elders, he landed his chair next to
+the President's.
+
+"Silence, fellow!" thundered the President, shrinking spasmodically
+from his confidential contact. "You have no right to a voice at all;
+as the Chancellor has reminded us, you are not even a Yahid, a
+congregant."
+
+"Then the laws do not apply to me," retorted the beggar quietly. "It
+is only the Yahid who is privileged to do this, who is prohibited from
+doing that. No _Ascama_ mentions the _Schnorrer_, or gives you any
+authority over him."
+
+"On the contrary," said the Chancellor, seeing the President
+disconcerted again, "he is bound to attend the weekday services. But
+this man hardly ever does, sir." "I _never_ do," corrected Manasseh,
+with touching sadness. "That is another of the privileges I have to
+forego in order to take your charity; I cannot risk appearing to my
+Maker in the light of a mercenary."
+
+"And what prevents you taking your turn in the graveyard watches?"
+sneered the Chancellor.
+
+The antagonists were now close together, one on either side of the
+President of the Mahamad, who was wedged between the two bobbing,
+quarrelling figures, his complexion altering momently for the blacker,
+and his fingers working nervously.
+
+"What prevents me?" replied Manasseh. "My age. It would be a sin
+against heaven to spend a night in the cemetery. If the body-snatchers
+did come they might find a corpse to their hand in the watch-tower.
+But I do my duty--I always pay a substitute."
+
+"No doubt," said the Treasurer. "I remember your asking me for the
+money to keep an old man out of the cemetery. Now I see what you
+meant."
+
+"Yes," began two others, "and I--"
+
+"Order, gentlemen, order," interrupted the President desperately, for
+the afternoon was flitting, the sun was setting, and the shadows of
+twilight were falling. "You must not argue with the man. Hark you, my
+fine fellow, we refuse to sanction this marriage; it shall not be
+performed by our ministers, nor can we dream of admitting your
+son-in-law as a Yahid."
+
+"Then admit him on your Charity List," said Manasseh.
+
+"We are more likely to strike _you_ off! And, by gad!" cried the
+President, tattooing on the table with his whole fist, "if you don't
+stop this scandal instanter, we will send you howling."
+
+[Illustration: "'IF YOU DON'T STOP THIS SCANDAL INSTANTER, WE WILL
+SEND YOU HOWLING!'"]
+
+"Is it excommunication you threaten?" said Manasseh, rising to his
+feet. There was a menacing glitter in his eye.
+
+"This scandal must be stopped," repeated the President, agitatedly
+rising in involuntary imitation.
+
+"Any member of the Mahamad could stop it in a twinkling," said
+Manasseh sullenly. "You yourself, if you only chose."
+
+"If I only chose?" echoed the President enquiringly.
+
+"If you only chose my daughter. Are you not a bachelor? I am convinced
+she could not say nay to anyone present--excepting the Chancellor.
+Only no one is really willing to save the community from this scandal,
+and so my daughter must marry as best she can. And yet, it is a
+handsome creature who would not disgrace even a house in Hackney."
+
+Manasseh spoke so seriously that the President fumed the more. "Let
+her marry this Pole," he ranted, "and you shall be cut off from us in
+life and death. Alive, you shall worship without our walls, and dead
+you shall be buried 'behind the boards.'"
+
+"For the poor man--excommunication," said Manasseh in ominous
+soliloquy. "For the rich man--permission to marry the Tedesco of his
+choice."
+
+"Leave the room, fellow," vociferated the President. "You have heard
+our ultimatum!"
+
+But Manasseh did not quail.
+
+"And you shall hear mine," he said, with a quietness that was the more
+impressive for the President's fury. "Do not forget, Mr. President,
+that you and I owe allegiance to the same brotherhood. Do not forget
+that the power which made you can unmake you at the next election; do
+not forget that if I have no vote I have vast influence; that there is
+not a Yahid whom I do not visit weekly; that there is not a
+_Schnorrer_ who would not follow me in my exile. Do not forget that
+there is another community to turn to--yes! that very Ashkenazic
+community you contemn--with the Treasurer of which I talked but just
+now; a community that waxes daily in wealth and greatness while you
+sleep in your sloth." His tall form dominated the chamber, his head
+seemed to touch the ceiling. The Councillors sat dazed as amid a
+lightning-storm.
+
+"Jackanapes! Blasphemer! Shameless renegade!" cried the President,
+choking with wrath. And being already on his legs, he dashed to the
+bell and tugged at it madly, blanching the Chancellor's face with the
+perception of a lost opportunity.
+
+[Illustration: "HE DASHED TO THE BELL."]
+
+"I shall not leave this chamber till I choose," said Manasseh,
+dropping stolidly into the nearest chair and folding his arms.
+
+At once a cry of horror and consternation rose from every throat,
+every man leapt threateningly to his feet, and Manasseh realised that
+he was throned on the alcoved arm-chair!
+
+But he neither blenched nor budged.
+
+"Nay, keep your seats, gentlemen," he said quietly.
+
+The President, turning at the stir, caught sight of the _Schnorrer_,
+staggered and clutched at the mantel. The Councillors stood spellbound
+for an instant, while the Chancellor's eyes roved wildly round the
+walls, as if expecting the gold names to start from their panels. The
+beadle rushed in, terrified by the strenuous tintinnabulation, looked
+instinctively towards the throne for orders, then underwent
+petrifaction on the threshold, and stared speechless at Manasseh, what
+time the President, gasping like a landed cod, vainly strove to utter
+the order for the beggar's expulsion.
+
+"Don't stare at me, Gomez," Manasseh cried imperiously. "Can't you see
+the President wants a glass of water?"
+
+The beadle darted a glance at the President, and, perceiving his
+condition, rushed out again to get the water.
+
+This was the last straw. To see his authority usurped as well as his
+seat maddened the poor President. For some seconds he strove to mouth
+an oath, embracing his supine Councillors as well as this beggar on
+horseback, but he produced only an inarticulate raucous cry, and
+reeled sideways. Manasseh sprang from his chair and caught the falling
+form in his arms. For one terrible moment he stood supporting it in a
+tense silence, broken only by the incoherent murmurs of the
+unconscious lips; then crying angrily, "Bestir yourselves, gentlemen,
+don't you see the President is ill?" he dragged his burden towards the
+table, and, aided by the panic-stricken Councillors, laid it flat
+thereupon, and threw open the ruffled shirt. He swept the Minute Book
+to the floor with an almost malicious movement, to make room for the
+President.
+
+The beadle returned with the glass of water, which he well-nigh
+dropped.
+
+"Run for a physician," Manasseh commanded, and throwing away the water
+carelessly, in the Chancellor's direction, he asked if anyone had any
+brandy. There was no response.
+
+"Come, come, Mr. Chancellor," he said, "bring out your phial." And the
+abashed functionary obeyed.
+
+"Has any of you his equipage without?" Manasseh demanded next of the
+Mahamad.
+
+They had not, so Manasseh despatched the Chief of the Elders in quest
+of a sedan chair. Then there was nothing left but to await the
+physician.
+
+"You see, gentlemen, how insecure is earthly power," said the
+_Schnorrer_ solemnly, while the President breathed stertorously, deaf
+to his impressive moralising. "It is swallowed up in an instant, as
+Lisbon was engulfed. Cursed are they who despise the poor. How is the
+saying of our sages verified--'The house that opens not to the poor
+opens to the physician.'" His eyes shone with unearthly radiance in
+the gathering gloom.
+
+The cowed assembly wavered before his words, like reeds before the
+wind, or conscience-stricken kings before fearless prophets.
+
+When the physician came he pronounced that the President had had a
+slight stroke of apoplexy, involving a temporary paralysis of the
+right foot. The patient, by this time restored to consciousness, was
+conveyed home in the sedan chair, and the Mahamad dissolved in
+confusion. Manasseh was the last to leave the Council Chamber. As he
+stalked into the corridor he turned the key in the door behind him
+with a vindictive twist. Then, plunging his hand into his
+breeches-pocket, he gave the beadle a crown, remarking genially, "You
+must have your usual perquisite, I suppose."
+
+The beadle was moved to his depths. He had a burst of irresistible
+honesty. "The President gives me only half-a-crown," he murmured.
+
+"Yes, but he may not be able to attend the next meeting," said
+Manasseh. "And I may be away, too."
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+SHOWING HOW THE KING ENRICHED THE SYNAGOGUE.
+
+The Synagogue of the Gates of Heaven was crowded--members, orphan
+boys, _Schnorrers_, all were met in celebration of the Sabbath. But
+the President of the Mahamad was missing. He was still inconvenienced
+by the effects of his stroke, and deemed it most prudent to pray at
+home. The Council of Five had not met since Manasseh had dissolved it,
+and so the matter of his daughter's marriage was left hanging, as
+indeed was not seldom the posture of matters discussed by Sephardic
+bodies. The authorities thus passive, Manasseh found scant difficulty
+in imposing his will upon the minor officers, less ready than himself
+with constitutional precedent. His daughter was to be married under
+the Sephardic canopy, and no jot of synagogual honour was to be bated
+the bridegroom. On this Sabbath--the last before the wedding--Yankele
+was to be called to the Reading of the Law like a true-born
+Portuguese. He made his first appearance in the Synagogue of his
+bride's fathers with a feeling of solemn respect, not exactly due to
+Manasseh's grandiose references to the ancient temple. He had walked
+the courtyard with levity, half prepared, from previous experience of
+his intended father-in-law, to find the glories insubstantial. Their
+unexpected actuality awed him, and he was glad he was dressed in his
+best. His beaver hat, green trousers, and brown coat equalled him with
+the massive pillars, the gleaming candelabra, and the stately roof. Da
+Costa, for his part, had made no change in his attire; he dignified
+his shabby vestments, stuffing them with royal manhood, and wearing
+his snuff-coloured over-garment like a purple robe. There was, in
+sooth, an official air about his habiliment, and to the worshippers it
+was as impressively familiar as the black stole and white bands of the
+Cantor. It seemed only natural that he should be called to the Reading
+first, quite apart from the fact that he was a _Cohen_, of the family
+of Aaron, the High Priest, a descent that, perhaps, lent something to
+the loftiness of his carriage.
+
+When the Minister intoned vigorously, "The good name, Manasseh, the
+son of Judah, the Priest, the man, shall arise to read in the Law,"
+every eye was turned with a new interest on the prospective
+father-in-law. Manasseh arose composedly, and, hitching his sliding
+prayer-shawl over his left shoulder, stalked to the reading platform,
+where he chanted the blessings with imposing flourishes, and stood at
+the Minister's right hand while his section of the Law was read from
+the sacred scroll. There was many a man of figure in the congregation,
+but none who became the platform better. It was beautiful to see him
+pay his respects to the scroll; it reminded one of the meeting of two
+sovereigns. The great moment, however, was when, the section being
+concluded, the Master Reader announced Manasseh's donations to the
+Synagogue. The financial statement was incorporated in a long
+Benediction, like a coin wrapped up in folds of paper. This was always
+a great moment, even when inconsiderable personalities were concerned,
+each man's generosity being the subject of speculation before and
+comment after. Manasseh, it was felt, would, although a mere
+_Schnorrer_, rise to the height of the occasion, and offer as much as
+seven and sixpence. The shrewder sort suspected he would split it up
+into two or three separate offerings, to give an air of inexhaustible
+largess.
+
+The shrewder sort were right and wrong, as is their habit.
+
+The Master Reader began his quaint formula, "May He who blessed our
+Fathers," pausing at the point where the Hebrew is blank for the
+amount. He span out the prefatory "Who vows"--the last note prolonging
+itself, like the vibration of a tuning-fork, at a literal pitch of
+suspense. It was a sensational halt, due to his forgetting the amounts
+or demanding corroboration at the eleventh hour, and the stingy often
+recklessly amended their contributions, panic-struck under the
+pressure of imminent publicity.
+
+"Who vows--" The congregation hung upon his lips. With his usual
+gesture of interrogation, he inclined his ear towards Manasseh's
+mouth, his face wearing an unusual look of perplexity; and those
+nearest the platform were aware of a little colloquy between the
+_Schnorrer_ and the Master Reader, the latter bewildered and agitated,
+the former stately. The delay had discomposed the Master as much as it
+had whetted the curiosity of the congregation. He repeated:
+
+"Who vows--_cinco livras_"--he went on glibly without a pause--"for
+charity--for the life of Yankov ben Yitzchok, his son-in-law, &c.,
+&c." But few of the worshippers heard any more than the _cinco livras_
+(five pounds). A thrill ran through the building. Men pricked up their
+ears, incredulous, whispering one another. One man deliberately moved
+from his place towards the box in which sat the Chief of the Elders,
+the presiding dignitary in the absence of the President of the
+Mahamad.
+
+"I didn't catch--how much was that?" he asked.
+
+[Illustration: "'I DIDN'T CATCH.'"]
+
+"Five pounds," said the Chief of the Elders shortly. He suspected an
+irreverent irony in the Beggar's contribution.
+
+The Benediction came to an end, but ere the hearers had time to
+realise the fact, the Master Reader had started on another. "May He
+who blessed our fathers!" he began, in the strange traditional
+recitative. The wave of curiosity mounted again, higher than before.
+
+"Who vows--"
+
+The wave hung an instant, poised and motionless.
+
+"_Cinco livras!_"
+
+The wave broke in a low murmur, amid which the Master imperturbably
+proceeded, "For oil--for the life of his daughter Deborah, &c." When
+he reached the end there was a poignant silence.
+
+Was it to be _da capo_ again?
+
+"May He who blessed our fathers!"
+
+The wave of curiosity surged once more, rising and subsiding with this
+ebb and flow of financial Benediction.
+
+"Who vows--_cinco livras_--for the wax candles."
+
+This time the thrill, the whisper, the flutter, swelled into a
+positive buzz. The gaze of the entire congregation was focussed upon
+the Beggar, who stood impassive in the blaze of glory. Even the orphan
+boys, packed in their pew, paused in their inattention to the Service,
+and craned their necks towards the platform. The veriest magnates did
+not thus play piety with five pound points. In the ladies' gallery the
+excitement was intense. The occupants gazed eagerly through the
+grille. One woman--a buxom dame of forty summers, richly clad and
+jewelled--had risen, and was tiptoeing frantically over the woodwork,
+her feather waving like a signal of distress. It was Manasseh's wife.
+The waste of money maddened her, each donation hit her like a poisoned
+arrow; in vain she strove to catch her spouse's eye. The air seemed
+full of gowns and toques and farthingales flaming away under her very
+nose, without her being able to move hand or foot in rescue; whole
+wardrobes perished at each Benediction. It was with the utmost
+difficulty she restrained herself from shouting down to her prodigal
+lord. At her side the radiant Deborah vainly tried to pacify her by
+assurances that Manasseh never intended to pay up.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE STROVE TO CATCH HER SPOUSE'S EYE."]
+
+"Who vows--" The Benediction had begun for a fourth time.
+
+"_Cinco livras_ for the Holy Land." And the sensation grew. "For the
+life of this holy congregation, &c."
+
+The Master Reader's voice droned on impassively, interminably.
+
+The fourth Benediction was drawing to its close, when the beadle was
+seen to mount the platform and whisper in his ear. Only Manasseh
+overheard the message.
+
+"The Chief of the Elders says you must stop. This is mere mockery. The
+man is a _Schnorrer_, an impudent beggar."
+
+The beadle descended the steps, and after a moment of inaudible
+discussion with da Costa, the Master Reader lifted up his voice
+afresh.
+
+The Chief of the Elders frowned and clenched his praying-shawl
+angrily. It was a fifth Benediction! But the Reader's sing-song went
+on, for Manasseh's wrath was nearer than the magnate's.
+
+"Who vows--_cinco livras_--for the Captives--for the life of the Chief
+of the Elders!"
+
+The Chief bit his lip furiously at this delicate revenge; galled
+almost to frenzy by the aggravating foreboding that the congregation
+would construe his message as a solicitation of the polite attention.
+For it was of the amenities of the Synagogue for rich people to
+present these Benedictions to one another. And so the endless stream
+of donatives flowed on, provoking the hearers to fever pitch. The very
+orphan boys forgot that this prolongation of the service was retarding
+their breakfasts indefinitely. Every warden, dignitary and official,
+from the President of the Mahamad down to the very Keeper of the Bath,
+was honoured by name in a special Benediction, the chief of Manasseh's
+weekly patrons were repaid almost in kind on this unique and festive
+occasion. Most of the congregation kept count of the sum total, which
+was mounting, mounting....
+
+Suddenly there was a confusion in the ladies' gallery, cries, a babble
+of tongues. The beadle hastened upstairs to impose his authority. The
+rumour circulated that Mrs. da Costa had fainted and been carried out.
+It reached Manasseh's ears, but he did not move. He stood at his post,
+unfaltering, donating, blessing.
+
+[Illustration: "MRS. DA COSTA HAD FAINTED."]
+
+"Who vows--_cinco livras_--for the life of his wife, Sarah!" And a
+faint sardonic smile flitted across the Beggar's face.
+
+The oldest worshipper wondered if the record would be broken.
+Manasseh's benefactions were approaching thrillingly near the highest
+total hitherto reached by any one man upon any one occasion. Every
+brain was troubled by surmises. The Chief of the Elders, fuming
+impotently, was not alone in apprehending a blasphemous mockery; but
+the bulk imagined that the _Schnorrer_ had come into property or had
+always been a man of substance, and was now taking this means of
+restoring to the Synagogue the funds he had drawn from it. And the
+fountain of Benevolence played on.
+
+The record figure was reached and left in the rear. When at length the
+poor Master Reader, sick unto death of the oft-repeated formula (which
+might just as well have covered all the contributions the first time,
+though Manasseh had commanded each new Benediction as if by an
+after-thought), was allowed to summon the Levite who succeeded
+Manasseh, the Synagogue had been enriched by a hundred pounds. The
+last Benediction had been coupled with the name of the poorest
+_Schnorrer_ present--an assertion and glorification of Manasseh's own
+order that put the coping-stone on this sensational memorial of the
+Royal Wedding. It was, indeed, a kingly munificence, a sovereign
+graciousness. Nay, before the Service was over, Manasseh even begged
+the Chief of the Elders to permit a special _Rogation_ to be said for
+a sick person. The Chief, meanly snatching at this opportunity of
+reprisals, refused, till, learning that Manasseh alluded to the ailing
+President of the Mahamad, he collapsed ingloriously.
+
+But the real hero of the day was Yankele, who shone chiefly by
+reflected light, but yet shone even more brilliantly than the
+Spaniard, for to him was added the double lustre of the bridegroom and
+the stranger, and he was the cause and centre of the sensation.
+
+His eyes twinkled continuously throughout.
+
+The next day, Manasseh fared forth to collect the hundred pounds!
+
+The day being Sunday, he looked to find most of his clients at home.
+He took Grobstock first as being nearest, but the worthy speculator
+and East India Director espied him from an upper window, and escaped
+by a back-door into Goodman's Fields--a prudent measure, seeing that
+the incredulous Manasseh ransacked the house in quest of him.
+Manasseh's manner was always a search-warrant.
+
+The King consoled himself by paying his next visit to a personage who
+could not possibly evade him--none other than the sick President of
+the Mahamad. He lived in Devonshire Square, in solitary splendour. Him
+Manasseh bearded in his library, where the convalescent was sorting
+his collection of prints. The visitor had had himself announced as a
+gentleman on synagogual matters, and the public-spirited President had
+not refused himself to the business. But when he caught sight of
+Manasseh, his puffy features were distorted, he breathed painfully,
+and put his hand to his hip.
+
+[Illustration: "SORTING HIS COLLECTION OF PRINTS."]
+
+"You!" he gasped.
+
+"Have a care, my dear sir! Have a care!" said Manasseh anxiously, as
+he seated himself. "You are still weak. To come to the point--for I
+would not care to distract too much a man indispensable to the
+community, who has already felt the hand of the Almighty for his
+treatment of the poor--"
+
+He saw that his words were having effect, for these prosperous pillars
+of the Synagogue were mightily superstitious under affliction, and he
+proceeded in gentler tones. "To come to the point, it is my duty to
+inform you (for I am the only man who is certain of it) that while you
+have been away our Synagogue has made a bad debt!"
+
+"A bad debt!" An angry light leapt into the President's eyes. There
+had been an ancient practice of lending out the funds to members, and
+the President had always set his face against the survival of the
+policy. "It would not have been made had I been there!" he cried.
+
+"No, indeed," admitted Manasseh. "You would have stopped it in its
+early stages. The Chief of the Elders tried, but failed."
+
+"The dolt!" cried the President. "A man without a backbone. How much
+is it?"
+
+"A hundred pounds!"
+
+"A hundred pounds!" echoed the President, seriously concerned at this
+blot upon his year of office. "And who is the debtor?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"You! You have borrowed a hundred pounds, you--you jackanapes!"
+
+"Silence, sir! How dare you? I should leave this apartment at once,
+were it not that I cannot go without your apology. Never in my life
+have I borrowed a hundred pounds--nay, never have I borrowed one
+farthing. I am no borrower. If you are a gentleman, you will
+apologise!"
+
+"I am sorry if I misunderstood," murmured the poor President, "but
+how, then, do you owe the money?"
+
+"How, then?" repeated Manasseh impatiently. "Cannot you understand
+that I have donated it to the Synagogue?"
+
+The President stared at him open-mouthed.
+
+"I vowed it yesterday in celebration of my daughter's marriage."
+
+The President let a sigh of relief pass through his open mouth. He was
+even amused a little.
+
+"Oh, is that all? It was like your deuced effrontery; but still, the
+Synagogue doesn't lose anything. There's no harm done."
+
+"What is that you say?" enquired Manasseh sternly. "Do you mean to say
+I am not to pay this money?"
+
+"How can you?"
+
+"How can I? I come to you and others like you to pay it for me."
+
+"Nonsense! Nonsense!" said the President, beginning to lose his temper
+again. "We'll let it pass. There's no harm done."
+
+"And this is the President of the Mahamad!" soliloquised the
+_Schnorrer_ in bitter astonishment. "This is the chief of our ancient,
+godly Council! What, sir! Do you hold words spoken solemnly in
+Synagogue of no account? Would you have me break my solemn vow? Do you
+wish to bring the Synagogue institutions into contempt? Do you--a man
+already once stricken by Heaven--invite its chastisement again?"
+
+The President had grown pale--his brain was reeling.
+
+"Nay, ask its forgiveness, sir," went on the King implacably; "and
+make good this debt of mine in token of your remorse, as it is
+written, 'And repentance, and prayer, and _charity_ avert the evil
+decree.'"
+
+"Not a penny!" cried the President, with a last gleam of lucidity, and
+strode furiously towards the bell-pull. Then he stood still in sudden
+recollection of a similar scene in the Council Chamber.
+
+"You need not trouble to ring for a stroke," said Manasseh grimly.
+"Then the Synagogue is to be profaned, then even the Benediction which
+I in all loyalty and forgiveness caused to be said for the recovery of
+the President of the Mahamad is to be null, a mockery in the sight of
+the Holy One, blessed be He!"
+
+The President tottered into his reading-chair.
+
+"How much did you vow on my behalf?"
+
+"Five pounds."
+
+The President precipitately drew out a pocket-book and extracted a
+crisp Bank of England note.
+
+"Give it to the Chancellor," he breathed, exhausted.
+
+"I am punished," quoth Manasseh plaintively as he placed it in his
+bosom. "I should have vowed ten for you." And he bowed himself out.
+
+In like manner did he collect other contributions that day from
+Sephardic celebrities, pointing out that now a foreign Jew--Yankele to
+wit--had been admitted to their communion, it behoved them to show
+themselves at their best. What a bad effect it would have on Yankele
+if a Sephardi was seen to vow with impunity! First impressions were
+everything, and they could not be too careful. It would not do for
+Yankele to circulate contumelious reports of them among his kin. Those
+who remonstrated with him over his extravagance he reminded that he
+had only one daughter, and he drew their attention to the favourable
+influence his example had had on the Saturday receipts. Not a man of
+those who came after him in the Reading had ventured to offer
+half-crowns. He had fixed the standard in gold for that day at least,
+and who knew what noble emulation he had fired for the future?
+
+Every man who yielded to Manasseh's eloquence was a step to reach the
+next, for Manasseh made a list of donors, and paraded it reproachfully
+before those who had yet to give. Withal, the most obstinate
+resistance met him in some quarters. One man--a certain Rodriques,
+inhabiting a mansion in Finsbury Circus--was positively rude.
+
+"If I came in a carriage, you'd soon pull out your ten-pound note for
+the Synagogue," sneered Manasseh, his blood boiling.
+
+"Certainly I would," admitted Rodriques laughing. And Manasseh shook
+off the dust of his threshold in disdain.
+
+By reason of such rebuffs, his collection for the day only reached
+about thirty pounds, inclusive of the value of some depreciated
+Portuguese bonds which he good-naturedly accepted as though at par.
+
+Disgusted with the meanness of mankind, da Costa's genius devised more
+drastic measures. Having carefully locked up the proceeds of Sunday's
+operations, and, indeed, nearly all his loose cash, in his safe, for,
+to avoid being put to expense, he rarely carried money on his person,
+unless he gathered it _en route_, he took his way to Bishopsgate
+Within, to catch the stage for Clapton. The day was bright, and he
+hummed a festive Synagogue tune as he plodded leisurely with his stick
+along the bustling, narrow pavements, bordered by costers' barrows at
+one edge, and by jagged houses, overhung by grotesque signboards, at
+the other, and thronged by cits in worsted hose.
+
+But when he arrived at the inn he found the coach had started. Nothing
+concerned, he ordered a post-chaise in a supercilious manner,
+criticising the horses, and drove to Clapton in style, drawn by a pair
+of spanking steeds, to the music of the postillion's horn. Very soon
+they drew out of the blocked roads, with their lumbering procession of
+carts, coaches, and chairs, and into open country, green with the
+fresh verdure of the spring. The chaise stopped at "The Red Cottage,"
+a pretty villa, whose facade was covered with Virginian creeper that
+blushed in the autumn. Manasseh was surprised at the taste with which
+the lawn was laid out in the Italian style, with grottoes and marble
+figures. The householder, hearing the windings of the horn, conceived
+himself visited by a person of quality, and sent a message that he was
+in the hands of his hairdresser, but would be down in less than half
+an hour. This was of a piece with Manasseh's information concerning
+the man--a certain Belasco, emulous of the great fops, an amateur of
+satin waistcoats and novel shoestrings, and even said to affect a
+spying-glass when he showed at Vauxhall. Manasseh had never seen him,
+not having troubled to go so far afield, but from the handsome
+appurtenances of the hall and the staircase he augured the best. The
+apartments were even more to his liking; they were oak panelled, and
+crammed with the most expensive objects of art and luxury. The walls
+of the drawing-room were frescoed, and from the ceiling depended a
+brilliant lustre, with seven spouts for illumination.
+
+Having sufficiently examined the furniture, Manasseh grew weary of
+waiting, and betook himself to Belasco's bedchamber.
+
+"You will excuse me, Mr. Belasco," he said, as he entered through the
+half open door, "but my business is urgent."
+
+The young dandy, who was seated before a mirror, did not look up, but
+replied, "Have a care, sir, you well nigh startled my hairdresser."
+
+"Far be it from me to willingly discompose an artist," replied
+Manasseh drily, "though from the elegance of the design, I venture to
+think my interruption will not make a hair's-breadth of difference.
+But I come on a matter which the son of Benjamin Belasco will hardly
+deny is more pressing than his toilette."
+
+"Nay, nay, sir, what can be more momentous?"
+
+"The Synagogue!" said Manasseh austerely.
+
+"Pah! What are you talking of, sir?" and he looked up cautiously for
+the first time at the picturesque figure. "What does the Synagogue
+want of me? I pay my _finta_ and every bill the rascals send me.
+Monstrous fine sums, too, egad--"
+
+"But you never go there!"
+
+"No, indeed, a man of fashion cannot be everywhere. Routs and rigotti
+play the deuce with one's time."
+
+"What a pity!" mused Manasseh ironically. "One misses you there. 'Tis
+no edifying spectacle--a slovenly rabble with none to set the standard
+of taste."
+
+The pale-faced beau's eyes lit up with a gleam of interest.
+
+"Ah, the clods!" he said. "You should yourself be a buck of the
+eccentric school by your dress. But I stick to the old tradition of
+elegance."
+
+"You had better stick to the old tradition of piety," quoth Manasseh.
+"Your father was a saint, you are a sinner in Israel. Return to the
+Synagogue, and herald your return by contributing to its finances. It
+has made a bad debt, and I am collecting money to reimburse it."
+
+The young exquisite yawned. "I know not who you may be," he said at
+length, "but you are evidently not one of us. As for the Synagogue I
+am willing to reform its dress, but dem'd if I will give a shilling
+more to its finances. Let your slovenly rabble of tradesmen pay the
+piper--I cannot afford it!"
+
+"_You_ cannot afford it!"
+
+"No--you see I have such extravagant tastes."
+
+"But I give you the opportunity for extravagance," expostulated
+Manasseh. "What greater luxury is there than that of doing good?"
+
+"Confound it, sir, I must ask you to go," said Beau Belasco coldly.
+"Do you not perceive that you are disconcerting my hairdresser?"
+
+"I could not abide a moment longer under this profane, if tasteful,
+roof," said Manasseh, backing sternly towards the door. "But I would
+make one last appeal to you, for the sake of the repose of your
+father's soul, to forsake your evil ways."
+
+"Be hanged to you for a meddler," retorted the young blood. "My money
+supports men of genius and taste--it shall not be frittered away on a
+pack of fusty shopkeepers."
+
+The _Schnorrer_ drew himself up to his full height, his eyes darted
+fire. "Farewell, then!" he hissed in terrible tones. "_You will make
+the third at Grace!_"
+
+[Illustration: "'FAREWELL!' HE HISSED."]
+
+He vanished--the dandy started up full of vague alarm, forgetting
+even his hair in the mysterious menace of that terrifying sibilation.
+
+"What do you mean?" he cried.
+
+"I mean," said Manasseh, reappearing at the door, "that since the
+world was created, only two men have taken their clothes with them to
+the world to come. One was Korah, who was swallowed down, the other
+was Elijah, who was borne aloft. It is patent in which direction the
+third will go."
+
+The sleeping chord of superstition vibrated under Manasseh's dexterous
+touch.
+
+"Rejoice, O young man, in your strength," went on the Beggar, "but a
+day will come when only the corpse-watchers will perform your
+toilette. In plain white they will dress you, and the devil shall
+never know what a dandy you were."
+
+"But who are you, that I should give you money for the Synagogue?"
+asked the Beau sullenly. "Where are your credentials?"
+
+"Was it to insult me that you called me back? Do I look a knave? Nay,
+put up your purse. I'll have none of your filthy gold. Let me go."
+
+Gradually Manasseh was won round to accepting ten sovereigns.
+
+"For your father's sake," he said, pocketing them. "The only thing I
+will take for your sake is the cost of my conveyance. I had to post
+hither, and the Synagogue must not be the loser."
+
+Beau Belasco gladly added the extra money, and reseated himself before
+the mirror, with agreeable sensations in his neglected conscience.
+"You see," he observed, half apologetically, for Manasseh still
+lingered, "one cannot do everything. To be a prince of dandies, one
+needs all one's time." He waved his hand comprehensively around the
+walls which were lined with wardrobes. "My buckskin breeches were the
+result of nine separate measurings. Do you note how they fit?"
+
+"They scarcely do justice to your eminent reputation," replied
+Manasseh candidly.
+
+Beau Belasco's face became whiter than even at the thought of
+earthquakes and devils. "They fit me to bursting!" he breathed.
+
+"But are they in the pink of fashion?" queried Manasseh. "And
+assuredly the nankeen pantaloons yonder I recollect to have seen worn
+last year."
+
+"My tailor said they were of a special cut--'tis a shape I am
+introducing, baggy--to go with frilled shirts."
+
+Manasseh shook his head sceptically, whereupon the Beau besought him
+to go through his wardrobe, and set aside anything that lacked
+originality or extreme fashionableness. After considerable reluctance
+Manasseh consented, and set aside a few cravats, shirts, periwigs, and
+suits from the immense collection.
+
+"Aha! That is all you can find," said the Beau gleefully.
+
+"Yes, that is all," said Manasseh sadly. "All I can find that does any
+justice to your fame. These speak the man of polish and invention; the
+rest are but tawdry frippery. Anybody might wear them."
+
+"Anybody!" gasped the poor Beau, stricken to the soul.
+
+"Yes, I might wear them myself."
+
+"Thank you! Thank you! You are an honest man. I love true criticism,
+when the critic has nothing to gain. I am delighted you called. These
+rags shall go to my valet."
+
+"Nay, why waste them on the heathen?" asked Manasseh, struck with a
+sudden thought. "Let me dispose of them for the benefit of the
+Synagogue."
+
+"If it would not be troubling you too much!"
+
+"Is there anything I would not do for Heaven?" said Manasseh with a
+patronising air. He threw open the door of the adjoining piece
+suddenly, disclosing the scowling valet on his knees. "Take these
+down, my man," he said quietly, and the valet was only too glad to
+hide his confusion at being caught eavesdropping by hastening down to
+the drive with an armful of satin waistcoats.
+
+[Illustration: "THE SCOWLING VALET ON HIS KNEES."]
+
+Manasseh, getting together the remainder, shook his head despairingly.
+"I shall never get these into the post-chaise," he said. "You will
+have to lend me your carriage."
+
+"Can't you come back for them?" said the Beau feebly.
+
+"Why waste the Synagogue's money on hired vehicles? No, if you will
+crown your kindness by sending the footman along with me to help me
+unpack them, you shall have your equipage back in an hour or two."
+
+So the carriage and pair were brought out, and Manasseh, pressing into
+his service the coachman, the valet, and the footman, superintended
+the packing of the bulk of Beau Belasco's wardrobe into the two
+vehicles. Then he took his seat in the carriage, the coachman and the
+gorgeous powdered footman got into their places, and with a joyous
+fanfaronade on the horn, the procession set off, Manasseh bowing
+graciously to the master of "The Red House," who was waving his
+beruffled hand from a window embowered in greenery. After a pleasant
+drive, the vehicles halted at the house, guarded by stone lions, in
+which dwelt Nathaniel Furtado, the wealthy private dealer, who
+willingly gave fifteen pounds for the buck's belaced and embroidered
+vestments, besides being inveigled into a donation of a guinea towards
+the Synagogue's bad debt. Manasseh thereupon dismissed the chaise with
+a handsome gratuity, and drove in state in the now-empty carriage,
+attended by the powdered footman, to Finsbury Circus, to the mansion
+of Rodriques. "I have come for my ten pounds," he said, and reminded
+him of his promise (?). Rodriques laughed, and swore, and laughed
+again, and swore that the carriage was hired, to be paid for out of
+the ten pounds.
+
+[Illustration: "DROVE IN STATE."]
+
+"Hired?" echoed Manasseh resentfully. "Do you not recognise the arms
+of my friend, Beau Belasco?" And he presently drove off with the note,
+for Rodriques had a roguish eye. And then, parting with the chariot,
+the King took his way on foot to Fenchurch Street, to the house of his
+cousin Barzillai, the ex-planter of Barbadoes, and now a West Indian
+merchant.
+
+Barzillai, fearing humiliation before his clerks, always carried his
+relative off to the neighbouring Franco's Head Tavern, and humoured
+him with costly liquors.
+
+"But you had no right to donate money you did not possess; it was
+dishonest," he cried with irrepressible ire.
+
+"Hoity toity!" said Manasseh, setting down his glass so vehemently
+that the stem shivered. "And were you not called to the Law after me?
+And did you not donate money?"
+
+"Certainly! But I _had_ the money."
+
+"What! _With_ you?"
+
+"No, no, certainly not. I do not carry money on the Sabbath."
+
+"Exactly. Neither do I."
+
+"But the money was at my bankers'."
+
+"And so it was at mine. _You_ are my bankers, you and others like you.
+You draw on your bankers--I draw on mine." And his cousin being thus
+confuted, Manasseh had not much further difficulty in wheedling two
+pounds ten out of him.
+
+"And now," said he, "I really think you ought to do something to
+lessen the Synagogue's loss."
+
+"But I have just given!" quoth Barzillai in bewilderment.
+
+"_That_ you gave to me as your cousin, to enable your relative to
+discharge his obligations. I put it strictly on a personal footing.
+But now I am pleading on behalf of the Synagogue, which stands to lose
+heavily. You are a Sephardi as well as my cousin. It is a distinction
+not unlike the one I have so often to explain to you. You owe me
+charity, not only as a cousin, but as a _Schnorrer_ likewise." And,
+having wrested another guinea from the obfuscated merchant, he
+repaired to Grobstock's business office in search of the defaulter.
+
+But the wily Grobstock, forewarned by Manasseh's promise to visit him,
+and further frightened by his Sunday morning call, had denied himself
+to the _Schnorrer_ or anyone remotely resembling him, and it was not
+till the afternoon that Manasseh ran him to earth at Sampson's
+coffee-house in Exchange Alley, where the brokers foregathered, and
+'prentices and students swaggered in to abuse the Ministers, and all
+kinds of men from bloods to barristers loitered to pick up hints to
+easy riches. Manasseh detected his quarry in the furthermost box, his
+face hidden behind a broadsheet.
+
+[Illustration: "HIS FACE HIDDEN BEHIND A BROADSHEET."]
+
+"Why do you always come to me?" muttered the East India Director
+helplessly.
+
+"Eh?" said Manasseh, mistrustful of his own ears. "I beg your pardon."
+
+"If your own community cannot support you," said Grobstock, more
+loudly, and with all the boldness of an animal driven to bay, "why not
+go to Abraham Goldsmid, or his brother Ben, or to Van Oven, or
+Oppenheim--they're all more prosperous than I."
+
+"Sir!" said Manasseh wrathfully. "You are a skilful--nay, a famous,
+financier. You know what stocks to buy, what stocks to sell, when to
+follow a rise, and when a fall. When the Premier advertises the loans,
+a thousand speculators look to you for guidance. What would you say if
+_I_ presumed to interfere in your financial affairs--if I told you to
+issue these shares or to call in those? You would tell me to mind my
+own business; and you would be perfectly right. Now _Schnorring_ is
+_my_ business. Trust me, I know best whom to come to. You stick to
+stocks and leave _Schnorring_ alone. You are the King of Financiers,
+but I am the King of _Schnorrers_."
+
+Grobstock's resentment at the rejoinder was mitigated by the
+compliment to his financial insight. To be put on the same level with
+the Beggar was indeed unexpected.
+
+"Will you have a cup of coffee?" he said.
+
+"I ought scarcely to drink with you after your reception of me,"
+replied Manasseh unappeased. "It is not even as if I came to _schnorr_
+for myself; it is to the finances of our house of worship that I
+wished to give you an opportunity of contributing."
+
+"Aha! your vaunted community hard up?" queried Joseph, with a
+complacent twinkle.
+
+"Sir! We are the richest congregation in the world. We want nothing
+from anybody," indignantly protested Manasseh, as he absent-mindedly
+took the cup of coffee which Grobstock had ordered for him. "The
+difficulty merely is that, in honour of my daughter's wedding, I have
+donated a hundred pounds to the Synagogue which I have not yet managed
+to collect, although I have already devoted a day-and-a-half of my
+valuable time to the purpose."
+
+"But why do you come to me?"
+
+"What! Do you ask me that again?"
+
+"I--I--mean," stammered Grobstock--"why should I contribute to a
+Portuguese Synagogue?"
+
+Manasseh clucked his tongue in despair of such stupidity. "It is just
+you who should contribute more than any Portuguese."
+
+"I?" Grobstock wondered if he was awake.
+
+"Yes, you. Was not the money spent in honour of the marriage of a
+German Jew? It was a splendid vindication of your community."
+
+"This is too much!" cried Grobstock, outraged and choking.
+
+"Too much to mark the admission to our fold of the first of your sect!
+I am disappointed in you, deeply disappointed. I thought you would
+have applauded my generous behaviour."
+
+"I don't care what you thought!" gasped Grobstock. He was genuinely
+exasperated at the ridiculousness of the demand, but he was also
+pleased to find himself preserving so staunch a front against the
+insidious _Schnorrer_. If he could only keep firm now, he told
+himself, he might emancipate himself for ever. Yes, he would be
+strong, and Manasseh should never dare address him again. "I won't pay
+a stiver," he roared.
+
+"If you make a scene I will withdraw," said Manasseh quietly. "Already
+there are ears and eyes turned upon you. From your language people
+will be thinking me a dun and you a bankrupt."
+
+"They can go to the devil!" thundered Grobstock, "and you too!"
+
+"Blasphemer! You counsel me to ask the devil to contribute to the
+Synagogue! I will not bandy words with you. You refuse, then, to
+contribute to this fund?"
+
+"I do, I see no reason."
+
+"Not even the five pounds I vowed on behalf of Yankele himself--one of
+your own people?"
+
+"What! I pay in honour of Yankele--a dirty _Schnorrer_!"
+
+"Is this the way you speak of your guests?" said Manasseh, in pained
+astonishment. "Do you forget that Yankele has broken bread at your
+table? Perhaps this is how you talk of me when my back is turned. But,
+beware! Remember the saying of our sages, 'You and I cannot live in
+the world,' said God to the haughty man. Come, now! No more paltering
+or taking refuge in abuse. You refuse me this beggarly five pounds?"
+
+"Most decidedly."
+
+"Very well, then!"
+
+Manasseh called the attendant.
+
+"What are you about to do?" cried Grobstock apprehensively.
+
+"You shall see," said Manasseh resolutely, and when the attendant
+came, he pressed the price of his cup of coffee into his hand.
+
+Grobstock flushed in silent humiliation. Manasseh rose.
+
+Grobstock's fatal strain of weakness gave him a twinge of compunction
+at the eleventh hour.
+
+"You see for yourself how unreasonable your request was," he murmured.
+
+"Do not strive to justify yourself, I am done with you," said
+Manasseh. "I am done with you as a philanthropist. For the future you
+may besnuff and bespatter your coat as much as you please, for all the
+trouble I shall ever take. As a financier, I still respect you, and
+may yet come to you, but as a philanthropist, never."
+
+"Anything I can do--" muttered Grobstock vaguely.
+
+"Let me see!" said Manasseh, looking down upon him thoughtfully. "Ah,
+yes, an idea! I have collected over sixty pounds. If you would invest
+this for me--"
+
+"Certainly, certainly," interrupted Grobstock, with conciliatory
+eagerness.
+
+"Good! With your unrivalled knowledge of the markets, you could easily
+bring it up to the necessary sum in a day or two. Perhaps even there
+is some grand _coup_ on the _tapis_, something to be bulled or beared
+in which you have a hand."
+
+Grobstock nodded his head vaguely. He had already remembered that the
+proceeding was considerably below his dignity; he was not a
+stockbroker, never had he done anything of the kind for anyone.
+
+"But suppose I lose it all?" he asked, trying to draw back.
+
+"Impossible," said the _Schnorrer_ serenely. "Do you forget it is a
+Synagogue fund? Do you think the Almighty will suffer His money to be
+lost?"
+
+"Then why not speculate yourself?" said Grobstock craftily.
+
+"The Almighty's honour must be guarded. What! Shall He be less well
+served than an earthly monarch? Do you think I do not know your
+financial relations with the Court? The service of the Almighty
+demands the best men. I was the best man to collect the money--you are
+the best to invest it. To-morrow morning it shall be in your hands."
+
+"No, don't trouble," said Grobstock feebly. "I don't need the actual
+money to deal with."
+
+"I thank you for your trust in me," replied Manasseh with emotion.
+"Now you speak like yourself again. I withdraw what I said to you. I
+_will_ come to you again--to the philanthropist no less than
+financier. And--and I am sorry I paid for my coffee." His voice
+quivered.
+
+Grobstock was touched. He took out a sixpence and repaid his guest
+with interest. Manasseh slipped the coin into his pocket, and shortly
+afterwards, with some final admonitions to his stock-jobber, took his
+leave.
+
+Being in for the job, Grobstock resolved to make the best of it. His
+latent vanity impelled him to astonish the Beggar. It happened that he
+_was_ on the point of a magnificent manoeuvre, and alongside his own
+triton Manasseh's minnow might just as well swim. He made the sixty
+odd pounds into six hundred.
+
+A few days after the Royal Wedding, the glories of which are still a
+tradition among the degenerate _Schnorrers_ of to-day, Manasseh struck
+the Chancellor breathless by handing him a bag containing five score
+of sovereigns. Thus did he honourably fulfil his obligation to the
+Synagogue, and with more celerity than many a Warden. Nay, more!
+Justly considering the results of the speculation should accrue to the
+Synagogue, whose money had been risked, he, with Quixotic
+scrupulousness, handed over the balance of five hundred pounds to the
+Mahamad, stipulating only that it should be used to purchase a
+life-annuity (styled the Da Costa Fund) for a poor and deserving
+member of the congregation, in whose selection he, as donor, should
+have the ruling voice. The Council of Five eagerly agreed to his
+conditions, and a special junta was summoned for the election. The
+donor's choice fell upon Manasseh Bueno Barzillai Azevedo da Costa,
+thenceforward universally recognised, and hereby handed down to
+tradition, as the King of _Schnorrers_.
+
+[Illustration: "STRUCK THE CHANCELLOR BREATHLESS."]
+
+
+
+
+The Semi-Sentimental Dragon.
+
+[Illustration: The Semi-Sentimental Dragon.]
+
+
+There was nothing about the outside of the Dragon to indicate so large
+a percentage of sentiment. It was a mere every-day Dragon, with the
+usual squamous hide, glittering like silver armour, a commonplace
+crested head with a forked tongue, a tail like a barbed arrow, a pair
+of fan-shaped wings, and four indifferently ferocious claws, one per
+foot. How it came to be so susceptible you shall hear, and then,
+perhaps, you will be less surprised at its unprecedented and
+undragonlike behaviour.
+
+Once upon a time, as the good old chronicler, Richard Johnson,
+relateth, Egypt was oppressed by a Dragon who made a plaguy to-do
+unless given a virgin daily for dinner. For twenty-four years the menu
+was practicable; then the supply gave out. There was absolutely no
+virgin left in the realm save Sabra, the king's daughter. As 365 x 24
+only = 8760, I suspect that the girls were anxious to dodge the Dragon
+by marrying in haste. The government of the day seems to have been
+quite unworthy of confidence and utterly unable to grapple with the
+situation, and poor Ptolemy was reduced to parting with the Princess,
+though even so destruction was only staved off for a day, as virgins
+would be altogether "off" on the morrow. So short-sighted was the
+Egyptian policy that this does not appear to have occurred to anybody.
+At the last moment an English tourist from Coventry, known as George
+(and afterwards sainted by an outgoing administration sent to his
+native borough by the country), resolved to tackle the monster. The
+chivalrous Englishman came to grief in the encounter, but by rolling
+under an orange tree he was safe from the Dragon so long as he chose
+to stay there, and so in the end had no difficulty in despatching the
+creature; which suggests that the soothsayers and the magicians would
+have been much better occupied in planting orange trees than in
+sacrificing virgins. Thus far the story, which is improbable enough to
+be an allegory.
+
+Now many centuries after these events did not happen, a certain worthy
+citizen, an illiterate fellow, but none the worse for that, made them
+into a pantomime--to wit, _St. George and the Dragon; or, Harlequin
+Tom Thumb_. And the same was duly played at a provincial theatre, with
+a lightly clad chorus of Egyptian lasses, in glaring contradiction of
+the dearth of such in the fable, and a Sabra who sang to them a
+topical song about the County Council.
+
+Curiously enough, in private life, Sabra, although her name was Miss
+on the posters, was really a Miss. She was quite as young and pretty
+as she looked, too, and only rouged herself for the sake of stage
+perspective. I don't mean to say she was as beautiful as the Egyptian
+princess, who was as straight as a cedar and wore her auburn hair in
+wanton ringlets, but she was a sprightly little body with sparkling
+eyes and a complexion that would have been a good advertisement to any
+soap on earth. But better than Sabra's skin was Sabra's heart, which
+though as yet untouched by man was full of love and tenderness, and
+did not faint under the burden of supporting her mother and the
+household. For instead of having a king for a sire, Sabra had a
+drunken scene-shifter for a father. Everybody about the theatre liked
+Sabra, from the actor-manager (who played St. George) to the stage
+door-keeper (who played St. Peter). Even her under-study did not wish
+her ill.
+
+[Illustration: "INSTEAD OF HAVING A KING FOR A SIRE, SABRA HAD A
+DRUNKEN SCENE-SHIFTER FOR A FATHER."]
+
+Needless, therefore, to say it was Sabra who made the Dragon
+semi-sentimental. Not in the "book," of course, where his desire to
+eat her remained purely literal. Real Dragons keep themselves aloof
+from sentiment, but a stage Dragon is only human. Such a one may be
+entirely the slave of sentiment, and it was perhaps to the credit of
+our Dragon that only half of him was in the bonds. The other half--and
+that the better half--was saturnine and teetotal, and answered to the
+name of Davie Brigg.
+
+Davie was the head man on the Dragon. He played the anterior parts,
+waggled the head and flapped the wings and sent gruesome grunts and
+penny squibs through the "firebreathing" jaws. He was a dour
+middle-aged, but stagestruck, Scot, very proud of his rapid rise in
+the profession, for he had begun as a dramatist.
+
+The rear of the Dragon was simply known as Jimmy.
+
+Jimmy was a wreck. His past was a mystery. His face was a brief record
+of baleful experiences, and he had the aspirates of a gentleman. He
+had gone on the stage to be out of the snow and the rain. Not knowing
+this, the actor-manager paid him ninepence a night. His wages just
+kept him in beer-money. The original Sabra tamed two lions, but
+perhaps it was a greater feat to tame this half of a Dragon.
+
+Jimmy's tenderness for Sabra began at rehearsal, when he saw a good
+deal of her, and felicitated himself on the fact that they were on in
+the same scenes. After a while, however, he perceived this to be a
+doleful drawback, for whereas at rehearsal he could jump out of his
+skin and breathe himself and feast his eyes on Sabra when the Dragon
+was disengaged, on the stage he was forced to remain cramped in
+darkness while Ptolemy was clowning or St. George executing a step
+dance. Sabra was invisible, except for an odd moment or so between
+the scenes when he caught sight of her gliding to her dressing-room
+like a streak of discreet sunshine. Still he had his compensations;
+her dulcet notes reached his darkness (mellowed by the painted canvas
+and the tin scales sewn over it), as the chant of the unseen cuckoo
+reaches the woodland wanderer. Sometimes, when she sang that song
+about the County Council, he forgot to wag his tail.
+
+[Illustration: "SOMETIMES, WHEN SHE SANG THAT SONG ABOUT THE COUNTY
+COUNCIL, HE FORGOT TO WAG HIS TAIL."]
+
+Thus was Love blind, while Indifference in the person of Davie Brigg
+looked its full through the mask that stood for the monster's head.
+After a bit Jimmy conceived a mad envy of his superior's privileges;
+he longed to see Sabra through the Dragon's mouth. He was so weary of
+the little strip of stage under the Dragon's belly, which, even if he
+peered through the breathing-holes in the patch of paint-disguised
+gauze let into its paunch, was the most he could see. One night he
+asked Davie to change places with him. Davie's look of surprise and
+consternation was beautiful to see.
+
+"Do I hear aricht?" he asked.
+
+"Just for a night," said Jimmy, abashed.
+
+"But d'ye no ken this is a speakin' part?"
+
+[Illustration: "'BUT D'YE NO KEN THIS A SPEAKIN' PART?'"]
+
+"I did--not--know--that," faltered Jimmy.
+
+"Where's your ears, mon?" inquired Davie sternly. "Dinna ye hear me
+growlin' and grizzlin' and squealin' and skirlin'?"
+
+"Y--e--s," said Jimmy. "But I thought you did it at random."
+
+"Thocht I did it at random!" cried Davie, holding up his hands in
+horror. "And mebbe also ye thocht onybody could do't!"
+
+Jimmy's shamed silence gave consent also to this unflinching
+interpretation of his thought.
+
+"Ah weel!" said Davie, with melancholy resignation, "this is the
+artist's reward for his sweat and labour. Why, mon, let me tell ye,
+ilka note is not ainly timed but modulatit to the dramatic eenterest
+o' the moment, and that I hae practised the squeak hours at a time wi'
+a bagpiper. Tak' my place, indeed! Are ye fou again, or hae ye tint
+your senses?"
+
+"But you could do the words all the same. I only want to see for
+once."
+
+"And how d'ye think the words should sound, coming from the creature's
+belly? And what should ye see! You should nae ken where to go, I
+warrant. Come, I'll spier ye. Where d'ye come in for the fight with
+St. George--is it R 2 E or L U E?"
+
+"L U E," replied Jimmy feebly.
+
+"Ye donnered auld runt!" cried Davie triumphantly. "'Tis neither one
+nor t'other. 'Tis R C. Why, ye're capable of deein' up stage instead
+of down! Ye'd spoil my great scene. And ye are to remember I wad bear
+the wyte for 't, for naebody but our two sel's should ken the truth.
+Nay, nay, my mon. I hae my responsibeelities to the management. Ye're
+all verra weel in a subordinate position, but dinna ye aspire to more
+than beseems your abeelities. I am richt glad ye spoke me. Eh, but it
+would be an awfu' thing if I was taken bad and naebody to play the
+part. I'll warn the manager to put on an under-study betimes."
+
+"Oh, but let _me_ be the under-study, then," pleaded Jimmy.
+
+Davie sniffed scornfully.
+
+"'Tis a braw thing, ambeetion," he said, "but there's a proverb about
+it ye ken, mebbe."
+
+"But I'll notice everything you do, and exactly how you do it!"
+
+Davie relented a little.
+
+"Ah, weel," he said cautiously, "I'll bide a wee before speaking to
+the manager."
+
+But Davie remained doggedly robust, and so Jimmy still walked in
+darkness. He often argued the matter out with his superior,
+maintaining that they ought to toss for the position--head or tail.
+Failing to convince Davie, he offered him fourpence a night for the
+accommodation, but Davie saw in this extravagance evidence of a
+determined design to supplant him. In despair Jimmy watched for a
+chance of slipping into the wire framework before Davie, but the
+conscientious artist was always at his post first. They held dialogues
+on the subject, while with pantomimic license the chorus of Egyptian
+lasses was dancing round the Dragon as if it were a maypole. Their
+angry messages to each other vibrated along the wires of their
+prison-house, rending the Dragon with intestinal war. Weave your
+cloud-wrought Utopias, O social reformer, but wherever men inhabit,
+there jealousy and disunion shall creep in, and this gaudy canvas tent
+with its tin roofing was a hotbed of envy, hatred, and all
+uncharitableness. Yet Love was there, too--a stranger, purer passion
+than the battered Jimmy had ever known; for it had the unselfishness
+of a love that can never be more than a dream, that the beloved can
+never even know of. Perhaps, if Jimmy had met Sabra before he left off
+being a gentleman--!
+
+The silent, hopeless longing, the chivalrous devotion yearning dumbly
+within him, did not stop his beer; he drank more to drown his
+thoughts. Every night he entered into his part gladly, knowing himself
+elevated in the zoological scale, not degraded, by an assumption that
+made him only half a beast. It was kind of Providence to hide him
+wholly away from her vision, so that her bright eyes might not be
+sullied by the sight of his foulness. None of the grinning audience
+suspected the tragedy of the hind legs of the Dragon, as blindly
+following their leader, they went "galumphing" about the stage. The
+innocent children marvelled at the monster, in wide-eyed excitement,
+unsuspecting even its humanity, much less its double nature; only
+Davie knew that in that Dragon there were the ruins of a man and the
+makings of a great actor!
+
+"Why are ye sae anxious to stand in my shoon?" he would ask, when the
+hind legs became too obstreperous.
+
+"I don't want to be in your shoes; I only want to see the stage for
+once."
+
+But Davie would shake his head incredulously, making the Dragon's mask
+wobble at the wrong cues. At last, once when Sabra was singing, poor
+Jimmy, driven to extremities, confessed the truth, and had the
+mortification of feeling the wires vibrate with the Scotchman's silent
+laughter. He blushed unseen.
+
+But it transpired that Davie's amusement was not so much scornful as
+sceptical. He still suspected the tail of a sinister intention to wag
+the Dragon.
+
+"Nae, nae," he said, "ye shallna get me to swallow that. Ye're an unco
+puir creature, but ye're no sa daft as to want the moon. She's a
+bonnie lassie, and I willna be surprised if she catches a coronet in
+the end, when she makes a name in Lunnon; for the swells here, though
+I see a wheen foolish faces nicht after nicht in the stalls, are but a
+puir lot. Eh, but it's a gey grand tocher is a pretty face. In the
+meanwhiles, like a canny girl, she's settin' her cap at the chief."
+
+"Hold your tongue!" hissed the hind legs. "She's as pure as an angel."
+
+"Hoot-toot!" answered the head. "Dinna leebel the angels. It's no an
+angel that lets her manager give her sly squeezes and saft kisses that
+are nae in the stage directions."
+
+"Then she can't know he's a married man," said the hind legs hoarsely.
+
+"Dinna fash yoursel'--she kens that full weel and a thocht or two
+more. Dod! Ye should just see how she and St. George carry on after my
+death scene, when he's supposit to ha' rescued her and they fall
+a-cuddlin'."
+
+"You're a liar!" said the hind legs.
+
+Davie roared and breathed burning squibs and capered about, and Jimmy
+had to prance after him in involuntary pursuit. He felt choking in his
+stuffy hot black rollicking dungeon. The thought of this bloated
+sexagenarian faked up as a _jeune premier_, pawing that sweet little
+girl, sickened him.
+
+"Dom'd leear yersel!" resumed Davie, coming to a standstill. "I maun
+believe my own eyes, what they tell me nicht after nicht."
+
+"Then let me see for myself, and I'll believe you."
+
+"Ye dinna catch me like that," said Davie, chuckling.
+
+After that poor Jimmy's anxiety to see the stage became feverish. He
+even meditated malingering and going in front of the house, but could
+only have got a distant view, and at the risk of losing his place in
+an overcrowded profession. His opportunity came at length, but not
+till the pantomime was half run out and the actor-manager sought to
+galvanise it by a "second edition," which in sum meant a new lot of
+the variety entertainers who came on and played copophones before
+Ptolemy, did card-tricks in the desert, and exhibited trained poodles
+to the palm-trees. But Davie, determined to rise to the occasion,
+thought out a fresh conception of his part, involving three new
+grunts, and was so busy rehearsing them at home that he forgot the
+flight of the hours and arrived at the theatre only in time to take
+second place in the Dragon that was just waiting, half-manned, at the
+wing. He was so flustered that he did not even think of protesting for
+the first few minutes. When he did protest, Jimmy said, "What are you
+jawing about? This is a second edition, isn't it?" and caracoled
+around, dragging the unhappy Davie in his train.
+
+"I'll tell the chief," groaned the hind legs.
+
+"All right, let him know you were late," answered the head cheerfully.
+
+"Eh, but it's pit-mirk, here. I canna see onything."
+
+"You see I'm no liar. Shall I send a squib your way?"
+
+"Nay, nay, nae larking. Mind the business or you'll ruin my
+reputation."
+
+"Mind my business, I'll mind yours," replied Jimmy joyously, for the
+lovely Sabra was smiling right in his eyes. A Dragon divided against
+itself cannot stand, so Davie had to wait till the beast came off. To
+his horror Jimmy refused to budge from his shell. He begged for just
+one "keek" at the stage, but Jimmy replied: "You don't catch me like
+that." Davie said little more, but he matured a crafty plan, and in
+the next scene he whispered:--
+
+"Jimmy!"
+
+"Shut up, Davie; I'm busy."
+
+"I've got a pin, and if ye shallna promise to restore me my richts
+after the next exit, ye shall feel the taste of it."
+
+"You'll just stay where you are," came back the peremptory reply.
+
+Deep went the pin in Jimmy's rear, and the Dragon gave such a howl
+that Davie's blood ran cold. Too late he remembered that it was not
+the Dragon's cue, and that he was making havoc of his own professional
+reputation. Through the canvas he felt the stern gaze of the
+actor-manager. He thought of pricking Jimmy only at the howling cues,
+but then the howl thus produced was so superior to his own, that if
+Jimmy chose to claim it, he might be at once engaged to replace him in
+the part. What a dilemma!
+
+Poor Davie! As if it was not enough to be cut off from all the
+brilliant spectacle, pent in pitchy gloom and robbed of all his "fat"
+and his painfully rehearsed "second edition" touches. He felt like one
+of those fallen archangels of the footlights who live to bear
+Ophelia's bier on boards where they once played Hamlet.
+
+Far different emotions were felt at the Dragon's head, where Jimmy's
+joy faded gradually away, replaced by a passion of indignation, as
+with love-sharpened eyes he ascertained for himself the true relations
+of the actor-manager with his "principal girl." He saw from his coign
+of vantage the poor modest little thing shrinking before the cowardly
+advances of her employer, who took every possible advantage of the
+stage potentialities, in ways the audience could not discriminate from
+the acting. Alas! what could the gentle little bread-winner do? But
+Jimmy's blood was boiling. Davie's great scene arrived: the battle
+royal between St. George and the Dragon. Sabra, bewitchingly radiant
+in white Arabian silk, stood under the orange-tree where the pendent
+fruit was labelled three a penny. Here St. George, in knightly armour
+clad, retired between the rounds, to be sponged by the fair Sabra,
+from whose lips he took the opportunity of drinking encouragement.
+When the umpire cried "Time!" Jimmy uttered inarticulate cries of real
+rage and malediction, vomiting his squibs straight at the champion's
+eyes with intent to do him grievous bodily injury. But squibs have
+their own ways of jumping, and the actor-manager's face was protected
+by his glittering burgonet.
+
+At last Jimmy and Davie were duly despatched by St. George's trusty
+sword, Ascalon, which passed right between them and stuck out on the
+other side amid the frantic applause of the house. The Dragon reeled
+cumbrously sideways and bit the dust, of which there was plenty. Then
+Sabra rushed forward from under the orange-tree and encircled her
+hero's hauberk with a stage embrace, while St. George, lifting up his
+visor, rained kiss after kiss on Sabra's scarlet face, and the "gods"
+went hoarse with joy.
+
+"Oh, sir!" Jimmy heard the still small voice of the bread-winner
+protest feebly again and again amid the thunder, as she tried to
+withdraw herself from her employer's grasp. This was the last straw.
+Anger and the foul air of his prison wrought up Jimmy to asphyxiation
+point. What wonder if the Dragon lost his head completely?
+
+Davie will never forget the horror of that moment when he felt himself
+dragged upwards as by an irresistible tornado, and knew himself for a
+ruined actor. Mechanically he essayed to cling to the ground, but in
+vain. The dead Dragon was on its feet in a moment; in another, Jimmy
+had thrown off the mask, showing a shock of hair and a blotched
+crimson face, spotted with great beads of perspiration. Unconscious of
+this culminating outrage, Davie made desperate prods with his pin, but
+Jimmy was equally unconscious of the pricks. The thunder died
+abruptly. A dead silence fell upon the whole house--you could have
+heard Davie's pin drop. St. George, in amazed consternation, released
+his hold of Sabra and cowered back before the wild glare of the
+bloodshot eyes. "How dare you?" rang out in hoarse screaming accents
+from the protruding head, and with one terrific blow of its right
+fore-leg the hybrid monster felled Sabra's insulter to the ground.
+
+The astonished St. George lay on his back, staring up vacantly at the
+flies.
+
+"I'll teach you how to behave to a lady!" roared the Dragon.
+
+Then Davie tugged him frantically backwards, but Jimmy cavorted
+obstinately in the centre of the stage, which the actor-manager had
+taken even in his fall, so that the Dragon's hind legs trampled
+blindly on Davie's prostrate chief, amid the hysterical convulsions of
+the house.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Next morning the local papers were loud in their praises of the
+"Second Edition" of _St. George and the Dragon_, especially of the
+"genuinely burlesque and topsy-turvy episode in which the Dragon rises
+from the dead to read St. George a lesson in chivalry; a really
+side-splitting conception, made funnier by the grotesque revelation of
+the constituents of the Dragon, just before it retires for the night."
+
+The actor-manager had no option but to adopt this reading, so had to
+be hoofed and publicly reprimanded every evening during the rest of
+the season, glad enough to get off so cheaply.
+
+Of course, Jimmy was dismissed, but St. George was painfully polite to
+Sabra ever after, not knowing but what Jimmy was in the gallery with a
+brickbat, and perhaps not unimpressed by the lesson in chivalry he was
+receiving every evening.
+
+Perhaps you think the Dragon deserved to marry Sabra, but that would
+be really too topsy-turvy, and the sentimental beast himself was quite
+satisfied to have rescued her from St. George.
+
+But the person who profited most by Jimmy's sacrifice was Davie, who
+stepped into a real speaking part, emerged from the obscurity of his
+surroundings, burst his swaddling clothes, and made his appearance on
+the stage--a thing he could scarcely be said to have done in the
+Dragon's womb.
+
+And so the world wags.
+
+
+
+
+_An Honest Log-Roller._
+
+
+Louis Maunders was writing an anonymous novel, and a large circle of
+friends and acquaintances expected it to make a big hit. Louis
+Maunders was so modest that he distrusted his own opinion, and was
+glad to find his friends sharing it in this matter. It strengthened
+him. He carried the manuscript unostentatiously about in a long brief
+bag, while the book was writing, and worked at it during all his spare
+moments. Even in omnibuses he was to be seen scribbling hard with a
+stylus, and neglecting to attend to the conductor. The plot of the
+story was sad and heartrending, for Louis was only twenty-one. Louis
+refused to give those roseate pictures of life which the conventional
+novelist turns out to please the public. He objected to "happy
+endings." In real life, he said, no story ends happily; for the end of
+everybody's story is Death. In this book he said some bitter things
+about Life which it would have winced to hear, had it been alive. As
+for Death, he doubted whether it was worth dying. Towards Nature he
+took a tone of haughty superiority, and expressed himself
+disrespectfully on the subject of Fate. He mocked at it through the
+lips of his hero, and altogether seemed qualifying for the liver
+complaint, which is the Prometheus myth done into modern English. He
+taught that the only Peace for man lies in snapping the fingers at
+Fortune, taking her buffets and her favours with equal contempt, and
+generally teaching her to know her place. The soul of the
+Philosopher, he said, would stand grinning cynically though the
+planetary system were sold off by auction. These lessons were taught
+with great tragic power in Maunders' novel, and he was looking forward
+to the time when it should be in print, and on all the carpets of
+conversation. He was extremely gratified to find his friends thinking
+so well of its prospects, for it was pleasing to him to discover that
+he had chosen his circle so well, and had such intelligent friends. It
+did not seem to him at all unlikely that he would make his fortune
+with this novel; and he hurried on with it, till the masterpiece
+needed only a few final touches and a few last insults to Fate. Then
+he left the bag in a hansom cab. When he remembered his forgetfulness,
+he was distracted. He raved like a maniac--and like a maniac did not
+even write his ravings down for after use. He applied at Scotland
+Yard, but the superintendent said that drivers brought there only
+articles of value. He sent paragraphs to the papers, asking even of
+the _Echo_ where his lost novel was. But the _Echo_ answered not.
+Several spiteful papers insinuated that he was a liar, and a
+high-class comic paper went out of its way to make a joke, and to call
+his book "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab." The annoying part of the
+business was that after getting all this gratuitous advertisement, in
+itself enough to sell two editions, the book still refused to come up
+for publication. Maunders was too heart-broken to write another. For
+months he went about, a changed being. He had put the whole of himself
+into that book, and it was lost. He mourned for the departed
+manuscript, and generously extolled its virtues. For years he remained
+faithful to its memory; and its pages were made less dry with his
+tears. But the most intemperate grief wears itself out at last; and
+after a few years of melancholy, Maunders rallied and became a
+critic.
+
+[Illustration: THE GREAT CRITIC.]
+
+As a critic he set in with great severity, and by carefully refraining
+from doing anything himself, gained a great reputation far and wide.
+In due course he joined the staff of the _Acadaeum_, where his signed
+contributions came to be looked for with profound respect by the
+public and with fear and trembling by authors. For Maunders' criticism
+was so very superior, even for the _Acadaeum_, of which the trade motto
+was "Stop here for Criticism--superior to anything in the literary
+market." Maunders flayed and excoriated Marsyas till the world
+accepted him as Apollo.
+
+What Maunders was most down upon was novel-writing. Not having to
+follow them himself, he had high ideals of art; and woe to the
+unfortunate author who thought he had literary and artistic instinct
+when he had only pen and paper. Maunders was especially severe upon
+the novels of young authors, with their affected style and jejune
+ideas. Perhaps the most brilliant criticism he ever wrote was a
+merciless dissection of a book of this sort, reeking with the
+insincerity and crudity of youth, full of accumulated ignorance of
+life, and brazening it out by flashy cynicism.
+
+A week after this notice appeared, his oldest and dearest friend
+called upon him and asked him for an explanation.
+
+"What do you mean?" said Maunders.
+
+"When I read your slashing notice of 'A Fingersnap for Fate,' I at
+once got the book."
+
+"What! After I had disembowelled it; after I had shown it was a stale
+sausage stuffed with old and putrid ideas?"
+
+"Well, to tell the truth," said his friend, a little crestfallen at
+having to confess, "I always get the books you pitch into. So do lots
+of people. We are only plain, ordinary, homespun people, you know; so
+we feel sure that whatever you praise will be too superior for us,
+while what you condemn will suit us to a _t_. That is why the great
+public studies and respects your criticisms. You are our literary
+pastor and monitor. Your condemnation is our guide-post, and your
+praise is our _Index Expurgatorius_. But for you we should be lost in
+the wilderness of new books."
+
+"And this is all the result of my years of laborious criticism," fumed
+the _Acadaeum_ critic. "Proceed, sir."
+
+"Well, what I came to say was, that if my memory does not play me a
+trick after all these years, 'A Fingersnap for Fate' is your long-lost
+novel."
+
+"What!" shrieked the great critic; "my long-lost child! Impossible."
+
+"Yes," persisted his oldest and dearest friend. "I recognised it by
+the strawberry mark in Cap. II., where the hero compares the younger
+generation to fresh strawberries smothered in stale cream. I remember
+your reading it to me!"
+
+"Heavens! The whole thing comes back to me," cried the critic. "Now I
+know why I damned it so unmercifully for plagiarism! All the while I
+was reading it, there was a strange, haunting sense of familiarity."
+
+"But, surely you will expose the thief!"
+
+"How can I? It would mean confessing that I wrote the book myself.
+That I slated it savagely, is nothing. That will pass as a good joke,
+if not a piece of rare modesty. But confess myself the author of such
+a wretched failure!"
+
+"Excuse me," said his friend. "It is not a failure. It is a very
+popular success. It is selling like wildfire. Excuse the inaccurate
+simile; but you know what I mean. Your notice has sent the sale up
+tremendously. Ever since your notice appeared, the printing presses
+have been going day and night and are utterly unable to cope with the
+demand. Oh, you must not let a rogue make a fortune out of you like
+this. That would be too sinful."
+
+So the great critic sought out the thief. And they divided the
+profits. And then the thief, who was a fool as well as a rogue, wrote
+another book--all out of his own head this time. And the critic slated
+it. And they divided the profits.
+
+
+
+
+_A Tragi-Comedy of Creeds._
+
+
+Not much before midnight in a midland town--a thriving commercial
+town, whose dingy back streets swarmed with poverty and piety--a man
+in a soft felt hat and a white tie was hurrying home over a bridge
+that spanned a dark crowded river. He had missed the tram, and did not
+care to be seen out late, but he could not afford a cab. Suddenly he
+felt a tug at his long black coat-tail. Vaguely alarmed and definitely
+annoyed, he turned round quickly. A breathless, roughly-clad,
+rugged-featured man loosed his hold of the skirt.
+
+"'Scuse me, sir--I've been running," gasped the stranger, placing his
+horny hand on his breast and panting.
+
+"What is it? What do you want?" said the gentleman impatiently.
+
+"My wife's dying," jerked the man.
+
+"I'm very sorry," murmured the gentleman incredulously, expecting some
+conventional street-plea.
+
+"Awful sudden attack--this last of hers--only came on an hour ago."
+
+"I'm not a doctor."
+
+"No, sir, I know. I don't want a doctor. He's there and only gives her
+ten minutes to live. Come with me at once, please."
+
+"Come with you? Why, what good can I do?"
+
+"You're a clergyman!"
+
+"A clergyman!" repeated the other.
+
+"Yes--aren't you?"
+
+The wearer of the white tie looked embarrassed.
+
+"Ye-es," he stammered. "In a--in a way. But I'm not the sort of
+clergyman your wife will be wanting."
+
+"No?" said the man, puzzled and pained. Then with a sudden dread in
+his voice: "You're not a Catholic clergyman?"
+
+"No," was the unhesitating reply.
+
+"Oh, then it's all right!" cried the man, relieved. "Come with me,
+sir, for God's sake. Don't let us waste time." His face was lit up
+with anxious appeal.
+
+But still the clergyman hesitated.
+
+"You're making a mistake," he murmured. "I am not a Christian
+clergyman." He turned to resume his walk.
+
+"Not a Christian clergyman!" exclaimed the man, as who should say "not
+a black negro!"
+
+"No--I am a Jewish minister."
+
+"That don't matter," broke in the man, almost before he could finish
+the sentence. "As long as you're not a Catholic. Oh, don't go away
+now, sir!" His voice broke piteously. "Don't go away after I've been
+chasing you for five minutes--I saw your rig-out--I beg pardon, your
+coat and hat--in the distance just as I came out of the house. Walk
+back with me, anyhow," he pleaded, seeing the Jew's hesitation, "Oh!
+for pity's sake, walk back with me at once and we can discuss it as we
+go along. I know I should never get hold of another parson in time at
+this hour of the night."
+
+The man's accents were so poignant, his anxiety was so apparently
+sincere, that the minister's humanity could scarcely resist the
+solicitation to walk back at least. He would still have time to decide
+whether to enter the house or not--whether the case were genuine or a
+mere trap concealing robbery or worse. The man took a short cut
+through evil-looking slums that did not increase the minister's
+confidence. He wondered what his flock would think if they saw their
+pastor in such company. He was a young unmarried minister, and the
+reputation of such in provincial Jewish congregations, overflowing
+with religion and tittle-tattle, is as a pretty unprotected orphan
+girl's.
+
+"Why don't you go to your own clergyman?" he asked.
+
+"I've got none," said the man half-apologetically. "I don't believe in
+nothing myself. But you know what women are!"
+
+The minister sniffed, but did not deny the weakness of the sex.
+
+"Betsy goes to some place or other every Sunday almost; sometimes
+she's there and back from a service before I'm up, and so long as the
+breakfast's ready I don't mind. I don't ask her no questions, and in
+return she don't bother about my soul--leastways, not for these ten
+years, ever since she's had kids to convert. We get along all right,
+the missus and me and the kids. Oh, but it's all come to an end now,"
+he concluded, with a sob.
+
+"Yes, but my good fellow," protested the minister, "I told you you
+were making a mistake. You know nothing about religion; but what your
+wife wants is some one to talk to her of Jesus, or to give her the
+Sacrament, or the Confession, or something, for I confess I'm not very
+clear about the forms of Christianity; and I haven't got any wafers or
+things of that sort. No, I couldn't do it, even if I had a mind to. It
+would ruin my position if it were known. But apart from that, I really
+can't do it. I wouldn't know what to say, and I couldn't bring my
+tongue to say it if I did."
+
+"Oh, but you believe in _something_?" persisted the man piteously.
+
+"H'm! Yes, I can't deny that," said the minister; "but it's not the
+same something that your wife believes in."
+
+"You believe in a God, don't you?"
+
+The minister felt a bit chagrined at being catechised in the elements
+of his religion.
+
+"Of course!" he said fretfully.
+
+"There! I knew it," cried the man in triumph. "None of us do in our
+shop; but, of course, clergymen are different. But if you believe in a
+God, that's enough, ain't it? You're both religious folk."
+
+"No, it isn't enough--at least, not for your wife."
+
+"Oh, well, you needn't let out, sir, need you? So long as you talk of
+God and keep clear of the Pope. I've heard her going on about a
+Scarlet Woman to the kids. (God bless their little hearts! I wonder
+what they'll do without her!) She'll never know, sir, and she'll die
+happy. I've done my duty. She whispered I wasn't to bring a Roman
+Catholic, poor thing. I fancy I heard her say once they're even worse
+than Jews. Oh, I don't mean that, sir. You're sure you're not a Roman
+Catholic?" he concluded anxiously.
+
+"Quite sure."
+
+"Well, sir, you'll keep the rest dark, won't you? There's no call to
+let out you don't believe the same other things as her."
+
+"I shall tell no lie," said the minister firmly. "You have called me
+in to give consolation to your dying wife, and I shall do my duty as
+best I can. Is this the house?"
+
+"Yes, sir--right at the top."
+
+The minister conquered a last impulse of mistrust, and looked round
+cautiously to be sure he was unobserved. Charity was not a strong
+point with his flock, and certainly his proceedings were suspicious.
+Even if they learnt the truth, he was not at all sure they would not
+consider his praying with a dying Christian akin to blasphemy. On the
+whole he must be credited with some courage in mounting that black,
+ill-smelling, interminable staircase. He found himself in a gloomy
+garret at last, lighted by an oil-lamp. A haggard woman lay with shut
+eyes on an iron bed, her chilling hands clasping the hands of the
+"converted" kids, a boy of ten and a girl of seven, who stood
+blubbering in their night-attire. The doctor leaned against the head
+of the bed, the ungainly shadows of the group sprawling across the
+blank wall. He had done all he could--without hope of payment--to ease
+the poor woman's last moments. He was a big-brained, large-hearted
+Irishman, a Roman Catholic, who thought science and religion might be
+the best of friends. The husband looked at him in frantic
+interrogation.
+
+"You are not too late," replied the doctor.
+
+"Thank God!" said the atheist. "Betsy, old girl, here is the
+clergyman."
+
+The cloud seemed to pass off the blind face, and a wave of wan
+sunlight to traverse it; slowly the eyes opened, the hands withdrew
+themselves from the children's grasp, and the palms met for prayer.
+
+"Christ Jesus--" began the lips mechanically.
+
+The minister was hot with confusion and a-quiver with emotion. He knew
+not what to say, as automatically he drew out a Hebrew prayer-book
+from his pocket and began reading the Deathbed Confession in the
+English version that appeared on the alternate pages.
+
+"I acknowledge unto Thee, O Lord, my God, and the God of my fathers,
+that both my cure and my death are in Thy hands...." As he read, the
+dying lips moved, mumbling the words after him. How often had those
+white lips prayed that the stiff-necked Jews might find grace and be
+saved from damnation; how often had those poor, rough hands put
+pennies into conversionist collecting-boxes after toiling hard to
+scrape them together; so that only she might suffer by their diversion
+from the household treasury.
+
+The prayer went on, the mournful monotone thrilling through the hot,
+dim, oil-reeking attic, and awing the weeping children into silence.
+The atheist stood by reverently, torn by conflicting emotions; glad
+the poor foolish creature had her wish, and on thorns lest she should
+live long enough to discover the deception. There was no room in his
+overcharged heart for personal grief just then. "Make known to me the
+path of life; in Thy presence is fulness of joy; at Thy right hand are
+pleasures for evermore." An ecstatic look overspread the plain,
+careworn face, she stretched out her arms as if to embrace some unseen
+vision.
+
+"Yes, I am coming ... Jesus," she murmured. Then her hands dropped
+heavily upon her breast; the face grew rigid, the eyes closed.
+Involuntarily the minister seized the hand nearest him. He felt it
+respond faintly to his clasp in unconsciousness of the pagan pollution
+of his touch. He read on, "Thou who art the Father of the fatherless
+and the Judge of the widow, protect my beloved kindred with whose soul
+my own is knit."
+
+The lips still echoed him almost imperceptibly, the departing spirit
+lulled into peace by the prayer of the unbeliever. "Into Thy hand I
+commend my spirit. Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth. Amen
+and Amen."
+
+And in that last Amen, with a final gleam of blessedness flitting
+across her sightless face, the poor Christian toiler breathed out her
+life of pain, holding the Jew's hand. There was a moment of solemn
+silence, the three men becoming as the little children in the presence
+of the eternal mystery.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It leaked out, as everything did in that gossipy town, and among that
+gossipy Jewish congregation. To the minister's relief, his flock took
+it better than he expected.
+
+"What a blessed privilege for that heathen female!" was all their
+comment.
+
+
+
+
+_The Memory Clearing House._
+
+
+When I moved into better quarters on the strength of the success of my
+first novel, I little dreamt that I was about to be the innocent
+instrument of a new epoch in telepathy. My poor Geraldine--but I must
+be calm; it would be madness to let them suspect I am insane. No,
+these last words must be final. I cannot afford to have them
+discredited. I cannot afford any luxuries now.
+
+Would to Heaven I had never written that first novel! Then I might
+still have been a poor, unhappy, struggling, realistic novelist; I
+might still have been residing at 109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby
+Road, St. Pancras. But I do not blame Providence. I knew the book was
+conventional even before it succeeded. My only consolation is that
+Geraldine was part-author of my misfortunes, if not of my novel. She
+it was who urged me to abandon my high ideals, to marry her, and live
+happily ever afterwards. She said if I wrote only one bad book it
+would be enough to establish my reputation; that I could then command
+my own terms for the good ones. I fell in with her proposal, the banns
+were published, and we were bound together. I wrote a rose-tinted
+romance, which no circulating library could be without, instead of the
+veracious picture of life I longed to paint; and I moved from 109,
+Little Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras, to 22, Albert
+Flats, Victoria Square, Westminster.
+
+[Illustration: "URGED ME TO ABANDON MY HIGH IDEALS."]
+
+A few days after we had sent out the cards, I met my friend
+O'Donovan, late member for Blackthorn. He was an Irishman by birth and
+profession, but the recent General Election had thrown him out of
+work. The promise of his boyhood and of his successful career at
+Trinity College was great, but in later years he began to manifest
+grave symptoms of genius. I have heard whispers that it was in the
+family, though he kept it from his wife. Possibly I ought not to have
+sent him a card and have taken the opportunity of dropping his
+acquaintance. But Geraldine argued that he was not dangerous, and that
+we ought to be kind to him just after he had come out of Parliament.
+
+O'Donovan was in a rage.
+
+[Illustration: "O'DONOVAN WAS IN A RAGE."]
+
+"I never thought it of you!" he said angrily, when I asked him how he
+was. He had a good Irish accent, but he only used it when addressing
+his constituents.
+
+"Never thought what?" I enquired in amazement.
+
+"That you would treat your friends so shabbily."
+
+"Wh-what, didn't you g-get a card?" I stammered. "I'm sure the wife--"
+
+"Don't be a fool!" he interrupted. "Of course I got a card. That's
+what I complain of."
+
+I stared at him blankly. The social experiences resulting from my
+marriage had convinced me that it was impossible to avoid giving
+offence. I had no reason to be surprised, but I was.
+
+"What right have you to move and put all your friends to trouble?" he
+enquired savagely.
+
+"I have put myself to trouble," I said, "but I fail to see how I have
+taxed _your_ friendship."
+
+"No, of course not," he growled. "I didn't expect you to see. You're
+just as inconsiderate as everybody else. Don't you think I had enough
+trouble to commit to memory '109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby
+Road, St. Pancras,' without being unexpectedly set to study '21,
+Victoria Flats--?'"
+
+"22, Albert Flats," I interrupted mildly.
+
+"There you are!" he snarled. "You see already how it harasses my poor
+brain. I shall never remember it."
+
+"Oh yes, you will," I said deprecatingly. "It is much easier than the
+old address. Listen here! '22, Albert Flats, Victoria Square,
+Westminster.' 22--a symmetrical number, the first double even number;
+the first is two, the second is two, too, and the whole is two, two,
+too--quite aesthetical, you know. Then all the rest is royal--Albert,
+Albert the Good, see. Victoria--the Queen. Westminster--Westminster
+Palace. And the other words--geometrical terms, Flat, Square. Why,
+there never was such an easy address since the days of Adam before he
+moved out of Eden," I concluded enthusiastically.
+
+[Illustration: "'THERE NEVER WAS SUCH AN EASY ADDRESS.'"]
+
+"It's easy enough for you, no doubt," he said, unappeased. "But do you
+think you're the only acquaintance who's not contented with his street
+and number? Bless my soul, with a large circle like mine, I find
+myself charged with a new schoolboy task twice a month. I shall have
+to migrate to a village where people have more stability of character.
+Heavens! Why have snails been privileged with a domiciliary constancy
+denied to human beings?"
+
+"But you ought to be grateful," I urged feebly. "Think of 22, Albert
+Flats, Victoria Square, Westminster, and then think of what I might
+have moved to. If I have given you an imposition, at least admit it is
+a light one."
+
+"It isn't so much the new address I complain of, it's the old. Just
+imagine what a weary grind it has been to master--'109, Little Turncot
+Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras.' For the last eighteen months I
+have been grappling with it, and now, just as I am letter perfect and
+postcard secure, behold all my labour destroyed, all my pains made
+ridiculous. It's the waste that vexes me. Here is a piece of
+information, slowly and laboriously acquired, yet absolutely useless.
+Nay, worse than useless; a positive hindrance. For I am just as slow
+at forgetting as at picking up. Whenever I want to think of your
+address, up it will spring, '109, Little Turncot Street, Chapelby
+Road, St. Pancras.' It cannot be scotched--it must lie there blocking
+up my brains, a heavy, uncouth mass, always ready to spring at the
+wrong moment; a possession of no value to anyone but the owner, and
+not the least use to _him_."
+
+He paused, brooding on the thought in moody silence. Suddenly his face
+changed.
+
+"But isn't it of value to anybody _but_ the owner?" he exclaimed
+excitedly. "Are there not persons in the world who would jump at the
+chance of acquiring it? Don't stare at me as if I was a comet. Look
+here! Suppose some one had come to me eighteen months ago and said,
+'Patrick, old man, I have a memory I don't want. It's 109, Little
+Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras! You're welcome to it, if
+it's any use to you.' Don't you think I would have fallen on that
+man's--or woman's--neck, and watered it with my tears? Just think what
+a saving of brain-force it would have been to me--how many petty
+vexations it would have spared me! See here, then! Is your last place
+let?"
+
+"Yes," I said. "A Mr. Marrow has it now."
+
+"Ha!" he said, with satisfaction. "Now there must be lots of Mr.
+Marrow's friends in the same predicament as I was--people whose
+brains are softening in the effort to accommodate '109, Little Turncot
+Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras.' Psychical science has made such
+great strides in this age that with a little ingenuity it should
+surely not be impossible to transfer the memory of it from my brain to
+theirs."
+
+[Illustration: "'PEOPLE WHOSE BRAINS ARE SOFTENING.'"]
+
+"But," I gasped, "even if it was possible, why should you give away
+what you don't want? That would be charity."
+
+"You do not suspect me of that?" he cried reproachfully. "No, my ideas
+are not so primitive. For don't you see that there is a memory _I_
+want--'33, Royal Flats--'"
+
+"22, Albert Flats," I murmured shame-facedly.
+
+"22, Albert Flats," he repeated witheringly. "You see how badly I want
+it. Well, what I propose is to exchange my memory of '109, Little
+Turncot Street, Chapelby Road, St. Pancras'" (he always rolled it
+slowly on his tongue with morbid self-torture and almost intolerable
+reproachfulness), "for the memory of '22, Albert Square.'"
+
+"But you forget," I said, though I lacked the courage to correct him
+again, "that the people who want '109, Little Turncot Street,' are not
+the people who possess '22, Albert Flats.'"
+
+"Precisely; the principle of direct exchange is not feasible. What is
+wanted, therefore, is a Memory Clearing House. If I can only discover
+the process of thought-transference, I will establish one, so as to
+bring the right parties into communication. Everybody who has old
+memories to dispose of will send me in particulars. At the end of each
+week I will publish a catalogue of the memories in the market, and
+circulate it among my subscribers, who will pay, say, a guinea a year.
+When the subscriber reads his catalogue and lights upon any memory he
+would like to have, he will send me a postcard, and I will then bring
+him into communication with the proprietor, taking, of course, a
+commission upon the transaction. Doubtless, in time, there will be a
+supplementary catalogue devoted to 'Wants,' which may induce people to
+scour their brains for half-forgotten reminiscences, or persuade them
+to give up memories they would never have parted with otherwise. Well,
+my boy, what do you think of it?"
+
+[Illustration: "'THE SUBSCRIBER READS HIS CATALOGUE.'"]
+
+"It opens up endless perspectives," I said, half-dazed.
+
+"It will be the greatest invention ever known!" he cried, inflaming
+himself more and more. "It will change human life, it will make a new
+epoch, it will effect a greater economy of human force than all the
+machines under the sun. Think of the saving of nerve-tissue, think of
+the prevention of brain-irritation. Why, we shall all live longer
+through it--centenarians will become as cheap as American
+millionaires."
+
+Live longer through it! Alas, the mockery of the recollection! He left
+me, his face working wildly. For days the vision of it interrupted my
+own work. At last, I could bear the suspense no more and went to his
+house. I found him in ecstasies and his wife in tears. She was
+beginning to suspect the family skeleton.
+
+"_Eureka!_" he was shouting. "_Eureka!_"
+
+"What is the matter?" sobbed the poor woman. "Why don't you speak
+English? He has been going on like this for the last five minutes,"
+she added, turning pitifully to me.
+
+[Illustration: "'WHAT IS THE MATTER?'"]
+
+"_Eureka!_" shouted O'Donovan. "I must say it. No new invention is
+complete without it."
+
+"Bah! I didn't think you were so conventional," I said contemptuously.
+"I suppose you have found out how to make the memory-transferring
+machine?"
+
+"I have," he cried exultantly. "I shall christen it the noemagraph, or
+thought-writer. The impression is received on a sensitised plate which
+acts as a medium between the two minds. The brow of the purchaser is
+pressed against the plate, through which a current of electricity is
+then passed."
+
+He rambled on about volts and dynamic psychometry and other hard
+words, which, though they break no bones, should be strictly confined
+in private dictionaries.
+
+"I am awfully glad you came in," he said, resuming his mother tongue
+at last--"because if you won't charge me anything I will try the first
+experiment on you."
+
+I consented reluctantly, and in two minutes he rushed about the room
+triumphantly shouting, "22, Albert Flats, Victoria Square,
+Westminster," till he was hoarse. But for his enthusiasm I should have
+suspected he had crammed up my address on the sly.
+
+He started the Clearing House forthwith. It began humbly as an attic
+in the Strand. The first number of the catalogue was naturally meagre.
+He was good enough to put me on the free list, and I watched with
+interest the development of the enterprise. He had canvassed his
+acquaintances for subscribers, and begged everybody he met to send him
+particulars of their cast-off memories. When he could afford to
+advertise a little, his _clientele_ increased. There is always a
+public for anything _bizarre_, and a percentage of the population
+would send thirteen stamps for the Philosopher's Stone, post free. Of
+course, the rest of the population smiled at him for an ingenious
+quack.
+
+The "Memories on Sale" catalogue grew thicker and thicker. The edition
+issued to the subscribers contained merely the items, but O'Donovan's
+copy comprised also the names and addresses of the vendors, and now
+and again he allowed me to have a peep at it in strict confidence. The
+inventor himself had not foreseen the extraordinary uses to which his
+noemagraph would be put, nor the extraordinary developments of his
+business. Here are some specimens culled at random from No. 13 of the
+Clearing House catalogue when O'Donovan still limited himself to
+facilitating the sale of superfluous memories:--
+
+     1. 25, Portsdown Avenue, Maida. Vale.
+
+     3. 13502, 17208 (banknote numbers).
+
+     12. History of England (a few Saxon kings missing), as
+     successful in a recent examination by the College of
+     Preceptors. Adapted to the requirements of candidates for the
+     Oxford and Cambridge Local and the London Matriculation.
+
+     17. Paley's Evidences, together with a job lot of dogmatic
+     theology (second-hand), a valuable collection by a clergyman
+     recently ordained, who has no further use for them.
+
+     26. A dozen whist wrinkles, as used by a retiring speculator.
+     Excessively cheap.
+
+     29. Mathematical formulae (complete sets; all the latest
+     novelties and improvements, including those for the higher
+     plane curves, and a selection of the most useful logarithms),
+     the property of a dying Senior Wrangler. Applications must be
+     immediate, and no payment need be made to the heirs till the
+     will has been proved.
+
+     35. Arguments in favour of Home Rule (warranted sound);
+     proprietor, distinguished Gladstonian M.P., has made up his
+     mind to part with them at a sacrifice. Eminently suitable for
+     bye-elections. Principals only.
+
+     58. Witty wedding speech, as delivered amid great applause by a
+     bridegroom. Also an assortment of toasts, jocose and serious,
+     in good condition. Reduction on taking a quantity.
+
+[Illustration: "A CLERGYMAN RECENTLY ORDAINED."]
+
+Politicians, clergymen, and ex-examinees soon became the chief
+customers. Graduates in arts and science hastened to discumber their
+memories of the useless load of learning which had outstayed its
+function of getting them on in the world. Thus not only did they make
+some extra money, but memories which would otherwise have rapidly
+faded were turned over to new minds to play a similarly beneficent
+part in aiding the careers of the owners. The fine image of Lucretius
+was realised, and the torch of learning was handed on from generation
+to generation. Had O'Donovan's business been as widely known as it
+deserved, the curse of cram would have gone to roost for ever, and a
+finer physical race of Englishmen would have been produced. In the
+hands of honest students the invention might have produced
+intellectual giants, for each scholar could have started where his
+predecessor left off, and added more to his wealth of lore, the
+moderns standing upon the shoulders of the ancients in a more literal
+sense than Bacon dreamed. The memory of Macaulay, which all Englishmen
+rightly reverence, might have been possessed by his schoolboy. As it
+was, omniscient idiots abounded, left colossally wise by their
+fathers, whose painfully acquired memories they inherited without the
+intelligence to utilise them.
+
+[Illustration: THE OMNISCIENT IDIOT.]
+
+O'Donovan's Parliamentary connection was a large one, doubtless merely
+because of his former position and his consequent contact with
+political circles. Promises to constituents were always at a discount,
+the supply being immensely in excess of the demand; indeed, promises
+generally were a drug in the market.
+
+Instead of issuing the projected supplemental catalogue of "Memories
+Wanted," O'Donovan by this time saw his way to buying them up on spec.
+He was not satisfied with his commission. He had learnt by experience
+the kinds that went best, such as exam. answers, but he resolved to
+have all sorts and be remembered as the Whiteley of Memory. Thus the
+Clearing House very soon developed into a storehouse. O'Donovan's
+advertisement ran thus:--
+
+     WANTED! Wanted! Wanted! Memories! Memories! Best Prices in the
+     Trade. Happy, Sad, Bitter, Sweet (as Used by Minor Poets). High
+     Prices for Absolutely Pure Memories. Memories, Historical,
+     Scientific, Pious, &c. Good Memories! Special Terms to Liars.
+     Precious Memories (Exeter Hall-marked). New Memories for Old!
+     Lost Memories Recovered while you wait. Old Memories Turned
+     equal to New.
+
+O'Donovan soon sported his brougham. Any day you went into the store
+(which now occupied the whole of the premises in the Strand) you could
+see endless traffic going on. I often loved to watch it. People who
+were tired of themselves came here to get a complete new outfit of
+memories, and thus change their identities. Plaintiffs, defendants,
+and witnesses came to be fitted with memories that would stand the
+test of the oath, and they often brought solicitors with them to
+advise them in selecting from the stock. Counsel's opinion on these
+points was regarded as especially valuable. Statements that would wash
+and stand rough pulling about were much sought after. Gentlemen and
+ladies writing reminiscences and autobiographies were to be met with
+at all hours, and nothing was more pathetic than to see the humble
+artisan investing his hard-earned "tanner" in recollections of a
+seaside holiday.
+
+[Illustration: "THEY OFTEN BROUGHT SOLICITORS WITH THEM."]
+
+In the buying-up department trade was equally brisk, and people who
+were hard-up were often forced to part with their tenderest
+recollections. Memories of dead loves went at five shillings a dozen,
+and all those moments which people had vowed never to forget were sold
+at starvation prices. The memories "indelibly engraven" on hearts were
+invariably faded and only sold as damaged. The salvage from the most
+ardent fires of affection rarely paid the porterage. As a rule, the
+dearest memories were the cheapest. Of the memory of favours there was
+always a glut, and often heaps of diseased memories had to be swept
+away at the instigation of the sanitary inspector. Memories of wrongs
+done, being rarely parted with except when their owners were at their
+last gasp, fetched fancy prices. Mourners' memories ruled especially
+lively. In the Memory Exchange, too, there was always a crowd, the
+temptation to barter worn-out memories for new proving irresistible.
+
+[Illustration: "WHEN THEIR OWNERS WERE AT THEIR LAST GASP."]
+
+One day O'Donovan came to me, crying "_Eureka!_" once more.
+
+"Shut up!" I said, annoyed by the idiotic Hellenicism.
+
+"Shut up! Why, I shall open ten more shops. I have discovered the art
+of duplicating, triplicating, polyplicating memories. I used only to
+be able to get one impression out of the sensitised plate, now I can
+get any number."
+
+"Be careful!" I said. "This may ruin you."
+
+"How so?" he asked scornfully.
+
+"Why, just see--suppose you supply two candidates for a science degree
+with the same chemical reminiscences, you lay them under a suspicion
+of copying; two after-dinner speakers may find themselves recollecting
+the same joke; several autobiographers may remember their making the
+same remark to Gladstone. Unless your customers can be certain they
+have the exclusive right in other people's memories, they will fall
+away."
+
+[Illustration: TWO AFTER-DINNER SPEAKERS RECOLLECTING THE SAME JOKE.]
+
+"Perhaps you are right," he said. "I must '_Eureka_' something else."
+His Greek was as defective as if he had had a classical education.
+
+What he found was "The Hire System." Some people who might otherwise
+have been good customers objected to losing their memories entirely.
+They were willing to part with them for a period. For instance, when a
+man came up to town or took a run to Paris, he did not mind
+dispensing with some of his domestic recollections, just for a change.
+People who knew better than to forget themselves entirely profited by
+the opportunity of acquiring the funds for a holiday, merely by
+leaving some of their memories behind them. There were always others
+ready to hire for a season the discarded bits of personality, and thus
+remorse was done away with, and double lives became a luxury within
+the reach of the multitude. To the very poor, O'Donovan's new
+development proved an invaluable auxiliary to the pawn-shop. On Monday
+mornings, the pavement outside was congested with wretched-looking
+women anxious to pawn again the precious memories they had taken out
+with Saturday's wages. Under this hire system it became possible to
+pledge the memories of the absent _for_ wine instead of in it. But the
+most gratifying result was its enabling pious relatives to redeem the
+memories of the dead, on payment of the legal interest. It was great
+fun to watch O'Donovan strutting about the rooms of his newest branch,
+swelling with pride like a combination cock and John Bull.
+
+[Illustration: WRETCHED-LOOKING WOMEN PAWNING THEIR MEMORIES.]
+
+The experiences he gained here afforded him the material for a final
+development, but, to be strictly chronological, I ought first to
+mention the newspaper into which the catalogue evolved. It was called
+_In Memoriam_, and was published at a penny, and gave a prize of a
+thousand pounds to any reader who lost his memory on the railway, and
+who applied for the reward in person. _In Memoriam_ dealt with
+everything relating to memory, though, dishonestly enough, the
+articles were all original. So were the advertisements, which were
+required to have reference to the objects of the Clearing
+House--_e.g._,
+
+     A PHILANTHROPIC GENTLEMAN of good _address_, who has travelled
+     a great deal, wishes to offer his _addresses_ to impecunious
+     _young ladies_ (orphans preferred). Only those genuinely
+     desirous of changing their residences, and with weak memories,
+     need apply.
+
+And now for the final and fatal "_Eureka_." The anxiety of some
+persons to hire out their memories for a period led O'Donovan to see
+that it was absurd for him to pay for the use of them. The owners were
+only too glad to dodge remorse. He hit on the sublime idea that they
+ought to pay _him_. The result was the following advertisement in _In
+Memoriam_ and its contemporaries:--
+
+     AMNESIA AGENCY! O'Donovan's Anodyne. Cheap
+     Forgetfulness--Complete or Partial. Easy Amnesia--Temporary or
+     Permanent. Haunting Memories Laid! Consciences Cleared. Cares
+     carefully Removed without Gas or Pain. The London address of
+     Lethe is 1001, Strand. Don't forget it.
+
+Quite a new class of customers rushed to avail themselves of the new
+pathological institution. What attracted them was having to pay.
+Hitherto they wouldn't have gone if you paid _them_, as O'Donovan used
+to do. Widows and widowers presented themselves in shoals for
+treatment, with the result that marriages took place even within the
+year of mourning--a thing which obviously could not be done under any
+other system. I wonder whether Geraldine--but let me finish now!
+
+How well I remember that bright summer's morning when, wooed without
+by the liberal sunshine, and disgusted with the progress I was making
+with my new study in realistic fiction, I threw down my pen, strolled
+down the Strand, and turned into the Clearing House. I passed through
+the selling department, catching a babel of cries from the
+counter-jumpers--"Two gross anecdotes? Yes, sir; this way, sir.
+Half-dozen proposals; it'll be cheaper if you take a dozen, miss. Can
+I do anything more for you, mum? Just let me show you a sample of our
+innocent recollections. The Duchess of Bayswater has just taken some.
+Anything in the musical line this morning, signor? We have some lovely
+new recollections just in from impecunious composers. Won't you take a
+score? Good morning, Mr. Clement Archer. We have the very thing for
+you--a memory of Macready playing Wolsey, quite clear and in excellent
+preservation; the only one in the market. Oh, no, mum; we have already
+allowed for these memories being slightly soiled. Jones, this lady
+complains the memories we sent her were short."
+
+[Illustration: "'TWO GROSS ANECDOTES?'"]
+
+O'Donovan was not to be seen. I passed through the Buying Department,
+where the employees were beating down the prices of "kind
+remembrances," and through the Hire Department, where the clerks were
+turning up their noses at the old memories that had been pledged so
+often, into the Amnesia Agency. There I found the great organiser
+peering curiously at a sensitised plate.
+
+"Oh," he said, "is that you? Here's a curiosity."
+
+"What is it?" I asked.
+
+"The memory of a murder. The patient paid well to have it off his
+mind, but I am afraid I shall miss the usual second profit, for who
+will buy it again?"
+
+"I will!" I cried, with a sudden inspiration. "Oh! what a fool I have
+been. I should have been your best customer. I ought to have bought up
+all sorts of memories, and written the most veracious novel the world
+has seen. I haven't got a murder in my new book, but I'll work one in
+at once. '_Eureka!_'"
+
+"Stash that!" he said revengefully. "You can have the memory with
+pleasure. I couldn't think of charging an old friend like you, whose
+moving from an address, which I've sold, to 22, Albert Flats, Victoria
+Square, Westminster, made my fortune."
+
+That was how I came to write the only true murder ever written. It
+appears that the seller, a poor labourer, had murdered a friend in
+Epping Forest, just to rob him of half-a-crown, and calmly hid him
+under some tangled brushwood. A few months afterwards, having
+unexpectedly come into a fortune, he thought it well to break entirely
+with his past, and so had the memory extracted at the Agency. This, of
+course, I did not mention, but I described the murder and the
+subsequent feelings of the assassin, and launched the book on the
+world with a feeling of exultant expectation.
+
+Alas! it was damned universally for its tameness and the improbability
+of its murder scenes. The critics, to a man, claimed to be authorities
+on the sensations of murderers, and the reading public, aghast, said I
+was flying in the face of Dickens. They said the man would have taken
+daily excursions to the corpse, and have been forced to invest in a
+season ticket to Epping Forest; they said he would have started if his
+own shadow crossed his path, not calmly have gone on drinking beer
+like an innocent babe at its mother's breast. I determined to have the
+laugh of them. Stung to madness, I wrote to the papers asserting the
+truth of my murder, and giving the exact date and the place of burial.
+The next day a detective found the body, and I was arrested. I asked
+the police to send for O'Donovan, and gave them the address of the
+Amnesia Agency, but O'Donovan denied the existence of such an
+institution, and said he got his living as secretary of the Shamrock
+Society.
+
+I raved and cursed him then--now it occurs to me that he had perhaps
+submitted himself (and everybody else) to amnesiastic treatment. The
+jury recommended me to mercy on the ground that to commit a murder for
+the artistic purpose of describing the sensations bordered on
+insanity; but even this false plea has not saved my life.
+
+It may. A petition has been circulated by Mudie's, and even at the
+eighth hour my reprieve may come. Yet, if the third volume of my life
+be closed to-morrow, I pray that these, my last words, may be
+published in an _edition de luxe_, and such of the profits as the
+publisher can spare be given to Geraldine.
+
+If I am reprieved, I will never buy another murderer's memory, not for
+all the artistic ideals in the world, I'll be hanged if I do.
+
+
+
+
+_Mated by a Waiter._
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+BLACK AND WHITE.
+
+Jones! I mention him here because he is the first and last word of the
+story. It is the story of what might be called a game of chess between
+me and him; for I never made a move, but he made a counter-move. You
+must remember though that he played, so to speak, blindfold, while I
+started the game, not with the view of mating him, but merely for the
+fun of playing.
+
+There was to be a Review of the Fleet, and the inhabitants of Ryde
+rejoiced, as befitted sons of the sea. Although many of them would be
+reduced to living in their cellars, like their own black-beetles, so
+that they might harbour the patriotic immigrant, they sacrificed
+themselves ungrudgingly. No, it was not the natives who grumbled.
+
+My friends, Jack Woolwich and Merton Towers, being in the Civil
+Service, naturally desired to pay a compliment to the less civil
+department of State, and picked their month's holiday so as to include
+the Review. They took care to let the Review come out at the posterior
+extremity of the holiday, so as to find them quite well and in the
+enjoyment of excellent quarters at economical rates. They selected a
+comfortable but unfashionable hotel, at moderate but uninclusive
+terms, and joyously stretched their free limbs unswaddled by red-tape.
+Soon London became a forgotten nightmare.
+
+They wrote to me irregularly, tantalising me unwittingly with glimpses
+of buoyant wave and sunny pasture. It fretted me to be immured in the
+stone-prison of the metropolis, and my friends' letters did but
+sprinkle sea-salt on my wounds; for I was working up a medical
+practice in the northern district, and my absence might prove
+fatal--not so much, perhaps, to my patients as to my prospects. I was
+beginning to be recognised as a specialist in throats and eyes, and I
+invariably sent my clients' ears to my old hospital chum, Robins,
+which increased the respect of the neighbourhood for my professional
+powers. Your general practitioner is a suspiciously omniscient person,
+and it is far sager to know less and to charge more.
+
+"My dear Ted," wrote the Woolwich Infant (of course we could not
+escape calling Jack Woolwich thus), "I do wish we had you here. Such
+larks! We've got the most comical cuss of a waiter you ever saw. I
+feel sure he would appeal irresistibly to your sense of humour. He
+seems to boss the whole establishment. His name is Jones; and when you
+have known him a day you feel that he is the only Jones--the only
+Jones possible. He is a middle-aged man, with a slight stoop and a
+cat-like crawl. His face is large and flabby, ornamented with
+mutton-chop whiskers, streaked as with the silver of half a
+century of tips. He is always at your elbow--a mercenary
+Mephistopheles--suggesting drives or sails, and recommending certain
+yachts, boats, and carriages with insinuative irresistibleness. He has
+the tenacity of an army of able-bodied leeches, and if you do not take
+his advice he spoils your day. You may shake him off by fleeing into
+the interior of the Isle, or plunging into the sea; but you cannot be
+always trotting about or bathing; and at mealtimes he waits upon those
+who have disregarded his recommendations. He has a hopelessly
+corruptive effect on the soul, and I, who have always prided myself on
+my immaculate moral get-up, was driven to desperate lying within
+twenty-four hours of my arrival. I told him how much I had enjoyed the
+carriage-drive he had counselled, or the sail he had sanctioned by his
+approval; and, in return, he regaled me with titbits at our _table
+d'hote_ dinner. But the next day he followed me about with large,
+reproachful eyes, in grieved silence. I saw that he knew all; and I
+dragged myself along with my tail between my legs, miserably asking
+myself how I could regain his respect.
+
+[Illustration: "THE INFANT."]
+
+"Wherever I turned I saw nothing but those dilated orbs of rebuke. I
+took refuge in my bedroom, but he glided in to give me a bad French
+halfpenny the chambermaid had picked up under my bed; and the implied
+contrast to be read in those eyes, between the honesty of the
+establishment and my own, was more than I could bear. I flew into a
+passion--the last resource of detected guilt--and irrelevantly told
+him I would choose my own amusements, and that I had not come down to
+increase his commissions.
+
+"Ted, till my dying day I shall not forget the dumb martyrdom of those
+eyes! When he was sufficiently recovered to speak, he swore, in a
+voice broken by emotion, that he would scorn taking commissions from
+the quarters I imagined. Ashamed of my unjust suspicions, I
+apologised, and went out that afternoon alone for a trip in the
+_Mayblossom_, and was violently sick. Merton funked it because the
+weather was rough, and had a lucky escape; but he had to meet Jones in
+the evening.
+
+"Merton's theory is, that Jones doesn't get commissions, for the
+simple reason that the wagonettes and broughams and bath-chairs and
+boats and yachts he recommends all belong to him, and that the nominal
+proprietors are men of straw, stuffed by the only Jones. This theory
+is, I must admit, borne out by the evidence of O'Rafferty, a jolly old
+Irishman, whose wife died here early in the year, and who has been
+making holiday ever since. He says that Jones had a week off in March
+when there was hardly anybody in the hotel, and he was to be seen
+driving a wagonette between Ryde and Cowes daily. And, indeed, there
+is something curiously provincial and plebeian about Jones's mind
+which suggests a man who has risen from the cab-ranks.
+
+"His ideas of tips are delightfully democratic, and you cannot insult
+him even with twopence. He handles a bottle of cheap claret as
+reverently as a Russian the image of his saint, and he has never got
+over his awe of champagne. To drink Monopole at dinner is to mount a
+pedestal of dignity, and I completely recovered his esteem by
+drowning the memories of that awful marine experience in a pint of
+'dry.' When he draws the champagne cork he has a sacerdotal air, and
+he pours out the foaming liquid with the obsequiousness of an
+archbishop placing on his sovereign's head the crown he may never hope
+to do more than touch. But perhaps the best proof of the humbleness of
+his origin is his veneration for the aristocracy. An average waiter
+is, from the nature of his occupation, liable to be brought into
+contact with the bluest of blood, and to have his undiminished
+reverence for it tempered with a good-natured perception of mortal
+foibles. But Jones's attitude is one of awestruck unquestioning
+worship. He speaks of a lord with bated breath, and he dare not, even
+in conversation, ascend to a duke.
+
+[Illustration: "THE ONLY JONES."]
+
+"It would seem that this is not one of the hotels which the
+aristocrat's fancy turns to thoughts of; for apparently only one lord
+has ever stayed here, judging by the frequency with which Jones
+whispers his name. Though some of us seem to have a beastly lot of
+money, and to do all the year round what Merton and I can only indulge
+in for a month, we are a rather plebeian company I fear, and it is
+simply overwhelming the way Jones rams Lord Porchester down our
+throats.
+
+"'When his lordship stayed here he partic'larly admired the view from
+that there window.' 'His lordship wouldn't drink anything but Pommery
+Green-oh; he used to swallow it by tumblersful, as you or I might
+rum-and-water, sir.' 'Ah, sir! Lord Porchester hired the _Mayblossom_
+all to himself, and often said: "By Jove! she's like a sea-gull. She
+almost comes near my own little beauty. I think I shall have to buy
+her, by gad I shall! and let them race each other."'
+
+"And the fellow is such an inveterate gossip that everybody here knows
+everybody else's business. The proprietor is a quiet, gentlemanly
+fellow, and is the only person in the place who keeps his presence of
+mind in the presence of Jones, and is not in mental subjugation to the
+flabby, florid, crawling boss of the rest of the show.
+
+"You may laugh, but I warrant you wouldn't be here a day before Jones
+would get the upper hand of you. On the outside, of course, he is as
+fixedly deferential as if every moment were to be your last, and the
+cab were waiting to take you to the Station; but inwardly, you feel
+he is wound about you like a boa-constrictor. I do so long to see him
+swathing you in his coils! Won't you come down, and give your patients
+a chance?"
+
+"My dear Jack," I wrote back to the Infant, "I am so sorry that you
+are having bad weather. You don't say so, but when a man covers six
+sheets of writing-paper I know what it means. I must say you have
+given me an itching to try my strength with the only Jones; but, alas!
+this is a musical neighbourhood, and there is a run on sore throats,
+so I must be content to enjoy my Jones by deputy. Is there any other
+attraction about the shanty?"
+
+Merton Towers took up the running:
+
+"Barring ourselves and Jones," he wrote, "and perhaps O'Rafferty,
+there isn't a decent human being in the hotel. The ladies are either
+old and ugly, or devoted to their husbands. The only ones worth
+talking to are in the honeymoon stage. But Jones is worth a hundred
+petticoats: he is tremendous fun. We've got a splendid spree on now. I
+think the Infant told you that Jones has not enjoyed that actual
+contact with the 'hupper suckles' which his simple snobbish soul so
+thoroughly deserves; and that, in spite of the eternal Lord
+Porchester, his acquaintance is less with the _beau monde_ than with
+the Bow and Bromley _monde_. Since the Infant and I discovered this we
+have been putting on the grand air. Unfortunately, it was too late to
+claim titles; but we have managed to convey the impression that,
+although commoners and plain misters, we have yet had the privilege of
+rubbing against the purple. We have casually and carelessly dropped
+hints of aristocratic acquaintances, and Jones has bowed down and
+picked them up reverently.
+
+"The other day, when he brought us our Chartreuse after dinner, the
+Infant said: 'Ah! I suppose you haven't got Damtidam in stock?' The
+only Jones stared awestruck. 'Of course not! How can it possibly have
+penetrated to these parts yet?' I struck in with supercilious
+reproach. 'Damtidam! What is that, sir?' faltered Jones. 'What! you
+don't mean to say you haven't even heard of it?' cried the Infant in
+amaze. Jones looked miserable and apologetic. 'It's the latest
+liqueur,' I explained graciously. 'Awfully expensive; made by a new
+brotherhood of Anchorites in Dalmatia, who have secluded themselves
+from the world in order to concoct it. They only serve the
+aristocracy; but, of course, now and then a millionaire manages to get
+hold of a bottle. Lord Everett made me a present of some a couple of
+months ago, but I use it very, very sparingly, and I daresay the
+flask's at least half-full. I have it in my portmanteau.' 'How does it
+taste, sir?' enquired Jones, in a hushed, solemn whisper. 'Damtidam is
+not the sort of thing that would please the uncultured palate,' I
+replied haughtily. 'It's what they call an acquired taste, ain't it,
+sir?' he asked wistfully. 'Would you like to have a drop?' I said
+affably. 'Oh, Towers!' cried the Infant, 'what would Lord Everett
+say?' 'Well, but how is Lord Everett to know?' I responded. 'Jones
+will never let on.' 'His lordship shall never hear a word from my
+lips,' Jones protested gratefully. 'But you won't like it at first. To
+really enjoy Damtidam, you'll have to have several goes at it. Have
+you got a little phial?' Jones ran and fetched the phial, and I fished
+out of my portmanteau the bottle of dyspepsia mixture you gave us and
+filled Jones's phial. I watched him glide into the garden and put the
+phial to his lips with a heavenly expression, through which some
+suggestions of purgatory subsequently flitted. That was yesterday.
+
+"'Well, Jones, how do you like Damtidam?' I enquired genially this
+morning. 'Very 'igh-class, very 'igh-class in its taste, thank you,
+sir,' he replied. 'It's 'ardly for the likes o' me, I'm afraid; but as
+you've been good enough to give me some, I'll make so bold as to enjoy
+it. I 'ad a second sip at it this morning, and I liked it a deal
+better than yesterday. It requires time to get the taste, sir; but,
+depend upon it, I'll do my best to acquire it.' 'I wish you success!'
+I cried. 'Once you get used to it, it's simply delicious. Why, I'd
+never travel without a bottle of it. I often take it in the middle of
+the night. You finish that phial, Jones; never mind the cost. I'm
+writing to Lord Everett to-day, and I'll drop him a broad hint that I
+should like another.'
+
+"Eureka! As I write this a glorious idea has occurred to me. I _am_
+writing to you to-day, and you _are_ the giver of the Damtidam,
+_alias_ dyspepsia mixture. Oh, if you could only come down and pose as
+Lord Everett! What larks we should have! Do, old boy; it'll be the
+greatest spree we've ever had. Don't say 'no.' You want a change, you
+know you do; or you'll be on the sick-list yourself soon. Come, if
+only for a week! Surely you can find a chum to take your practice. How
+about Robins? He can't be all ears. I daresay he's equal to looking
+after your throats and eyes for a week. The Infant joins with me, and
+says that if you don't come he'll kill off Jones, and deprive you for
+ever of the pleasure of knowing him.
+
+  "I remain,
+
+  "Yours till Jones's death,
+
+  "MERTON TOWERS.
+
+  "P.S.--When you come, bring a dozen of Damtidam."
+
+The prospect of becoming Lord Everett flattered and tickled me, and
+was a daily temptation to me in my dreary drudgery. To the appeal of
+the pictured visions of woods and waters was added the alluring figure
+of Jones, standing a little bent amid the smiling landscape, acquiring
+a taste for Damtidam; his pasty face kneaded ecstatically, his hand on
+the pit of his stomach. At last I could stand it no longer, I went to
+see Robins, and I wrote to my friends:
+
+"Jones wins! Expect me about ten days before the Review, so that we
+can return to town together.
+
+"When I first asked Robins to take my eyes, he was inclined to dash
+them; but the moment I let him into the plot against Jones, he agreed
+to do all my work on condition of being informed of the progress of
+the campaign.
+
+"I shan't tell anyone I'm leaving town, and Robins will forward my
+letters in an envelope addressed to Lord Everett.
+
+"P.S.--I am bottling a special brand of Damtidam."
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A DIFFICULT OPENING.
+
+The proudest moment of Jones's life was probably when he assisted me
+to alight from the carriage I had ordered at the station. I wore a
+light duster, a straw hat, and goloshes (among other things), together
+with the air of having come over in the same steamboat as the
+Conqueror. I may as well mention here that I am tall, almost as tall
+as the Woolwich Infant, who frequently stands six foot two on my pet
+corn (Towers, by the way, is a short squat man, whose delusion that he
+is handsome can be read plainly upon his face). My features, like my
+habits, are regular. By complexion I belong to the fair sex; but there
+is a masculine vigour about my physique and my language which redeems
+me from effeminateness. I do not mention my tawny moustache, because
+that is not an exclusively male trait in these days of women's rights.
+
+"Good morning, my lord!" said Jones, his obeisance so low and his
+voice so loud that I had to give the driver half-a-crown.
+
+I nodded almost imperceptibly, knowing that the surest way to impress
+Jones with my breeding was to display no trace of it. I strolled
+languidly into the hall, deferentially followed by the Infant and
+Merton Towers, leaving Jones distracted between the desire to handle
+my luggage and to show me my room.
+
+"Hexcuse me, my lord," said Jones, fluttered. "Jane, run for the
+master."
+
+"Excuse _me_, my lord," said the Infant; "I'll run up and wash for
+lunch. See you in a moment. Come along, Merton. It's so beastly
+high-up. When are you going to get a lift, Jones?"
+
+"In a moment, sir; in a moment!" replied Jones automatically.
+
+He seemed half-dazed.
+
+The quiet, gentlemanly young proprietor, who appeared to have been
+disturbed in his studies, for he held a volume of Dickens in his hand,
+conducted me to a gorgeously furnished bedroom on the first floor
+facing the sea.
+
+"It's the best we can do for your lordship," he said apologetically;
+"but with the Review so near--"
+
+I waved my hand impatiently, wishing he could have done worse for me.
+In town I had been too busy to realise the situation in detail; but
+now it began to dawn upon me that it was going to be an expensive
+joke. Besides, I was separated from my friends, who were corridors
+away and flights higher, and convivial meetings at midnight would
+mean disagreeable stockinged wanderings for somebody--a mere shadow of
+a trifle, no doubt, but little things like that worry more than they
+look. I was afraid to ask the price of this swell bedroom, and I began
+to comprehend the meaning of _noblesse oblige_.
+
+"The sitting-room adjoins," said the hotel-keeper, suddenly opening a
+door and ushering me into a magnificent chamber, with a lofty ceiling
+and a dado. The furniture was plush-covered and suggestive of footmen.
+"I presume you will not be taking your meals in public?"
+
+"H'm! H'm!" I muttered, tugging at my moustache. Then, struck by a
+bright idea, I said: "What do Mr. Woolwich and Mr. Towers do?"
+
+"They join the _table d'hote_, your lordship," said the proprietor.
+"They didn't require a sitting-room they said, as they should be
+almost entirely in the open air."
+
+"Oh! well, I could hardly leave my friends," I said reflectively; "I
+suppose I shall have to join them at the _table d'hote_."
+
+"I daresay they would like to have your lordship with them," said the
+proprietor, with a faint, flattering smile.
+
+I smiled internally at my cunning in getting out of the sitting-room.
+
+"It's an awful bore," I yawned; "but I'm afraid they'd be annoyed if I
+ate up here alone, so--"
+
+"You'll invite them up here for all meals? Yes, my lord," said Jones
+at my elbow.
+
+He had sidled up with his cat-like crawl. Through the open door of
+communication I saw he had deposited my boxes in the gorgeous bedroom.
+There was a moment of tense silence, in which I struggled desperately
+for a response. The brazen shudder of a gong vibrated through the
+house.
+
+"Is that lunch?" I asked in relief, making a step towards the door.
+
+"Yes, my lord," said Jones; "but not your lordship's lunch. It will be
+laid here immediately, my lord. I will go at once and convey your
+invitation to your lordship's friends."
+
+He hastened from the room, leaving me dumbfounded. I did not enjoy
+Jones as much as I had anticipated. In a moment a pretty parlour-maid
+arrived to lay the cloth. I became conscious that I was hungry and
+thirsty and travel-stained, and I determined to let things slide till
+after lunch, when I could easily set them right. The sunshine was
+flooding the room, and the sea was a dance of diamonds. The sight of
+the prandial preparations softened me. I retired to my beautiful
+bedroom and plunged my face into a basin of water.
+
+There was a knock at the door.
+
+"Come in!" I spluttered.
+
+"Your hot water, my lord!" It was Jones.
+
+"I've got into enough already," I thought. "Don't want it," I growled
+peremptorily; "I always wash in cold."
+
+I would have my way in small things, I resolved, if I could not have
+it in great.
+
+"Certainly, your lordship; this is only for shaving."
+
+My cheeks grew hot beneath the fingers washing them. I remembered that
+I had overslept myself that morning, and neglected shaving lest I
+should miss my train. There were but a few microscopic hairs, yet I
+felt at once I had not the face to meet Jones at lunch.
+
+"Thank you!" I said savagely.
+
+When I had wiped my eyes I found he was still in the room, bent in
+meek adoration.
+
+"What in the devil do you want now?" I thundered.
+
+His eyes lit up with rapture. It was as though I had made oath I was a
+nobleman and removed his last doubt.
+
+"Pommery Green-oh or Hideseek, my lord?"
+
+I cursed silently. I am of an easy-going disposition, and in my most
+penurious student days, had to spend twenty-five per cent more on my
+modest lunch whenever the waiter said: "Stout or bitter, sir?" But the
+present alternative was far more terrible. I was on the point of
+saying I was a teetotaller, when I remembered that would shut off my
+nocturnal whisky-and-water, and condemn me to goody-goody beverages at
+meals. I remembered, too, that Jones intended the champagne as much
+for my friends as myself, and that lords are proverbially
+disassociated from temperance. Oh! it was horrible that this
+oleaginous snob should rob a poor man of his beer! Perhaps I could
+escape with claret. In my agitation I commenced lathering my chin and
+returned no answer at all. The voice of Jones came at last, charged
+with deeper respect, but inevitable as the knell of doom.
+
+"Did you say Pommery Green-oh! my lord?"
+
+"No!" I yelled defiantly.
+
+"Thank you, my lord. Lord Porchester was very partial to our
+Hideseek--when he was here. We have an excellent year."
+
+"I wish you had twelve months," I thought furiously. Then when the
+door closed upon him, I ground my razor savagely and muttered: "All
+right! I'll take it out of you in Damtidam."
+
+I heard the bustle of my friends arriving to lunch, and I shaved
+myself hastily. Then slipping on my coat and dabbing a bit of
+sticking-plaster on my chin, I threw open the door violently; for I
+was not going to let those two fellows off an exhibition of slang.
+They should have thought out the plot more fully; have hired me a
+moderate bedroom in advance, and not have let me in for the luxuries
+of Lucullus. It was a cowardly desertion, their leaving me at the
+critical moment, and they should learn what I thought of it.
+
+"You ruffians!" I began; but the words died on my lips. Jones was
+waiting at table.
+
+It ought to have been a delicious lunch: broiled chickens and
+apple-tart; the cool breeze coming through the open window, the sea
+and the champagne sparkling. But I, who was hungriest, enjoyed it
+least; Jones, who ate nothing, enjoyed it most. The Infant and Merton
+Towers simply overflowed with high spirits, keeping up a running fire
+of aristocratic allusions, which galled me beyond endurance.
+
+"By the way, how is the dowager-duchess?" wound up the Infant.
+
+"D---- the dowager-duchess!" I roared, losing the remains of my
+temper.
+
+Jones grew radiant, and the Infant winked irritating approval of my
+natural touches. Such contempt for duchesses could only be bred of
+familiarity. At last I could contain myself no longer; I must either
+explode or have a fit. I sent Jones for cigarettes.
+
+Directly the door closed those two men turned upon me.
+
+"I say, old fellow," exclaimed Towers reproachfully, "isn't this just
+going it a little too far?"
+
+"What in creation made you take these howling apartments?" asked the
+Infant. "Review time, too! They've been saving up these rooms,
+foreseeing there would be some tip-top swells crowded out of the
+fashionable hotels. Why, there's a cosy little crib next to ours I
+made sure you'd have."
+
+"Well, I call this cool!" I gasped.
+
+"So it is," said the Infant; "I admit that. It's the coolest room in
+the house. It'll be real jolly up here; and if you can stand the
+racket I'm sure I'm not the chap to grumble."
+
+"You must have been doing beastly well, old man," Towers put in
+enviously; "to feed us like critics on chicken and champagne. I
+suppose they'll be opening new cemeteries down your way presently."
+
+"Look here, my fine fellows," I said ferociously, "don't you forget
+that there's plenty of room still in Ryde Churchyard."
+
+"Hallo, Ted!" cried the Infant, looking up with ingenuous surprise, "I
+thought you came down here on a holiday?"
+
+"Stash that!" I said. "It's you who've got me into this hole, and you
+know it."
+
+"Hole!" cried Towers, looking round the room in amaze. "He calls this
+a hole! Hang it all, my boy, are you a millionaire? I call this good
+enough for a lord."
+
+"Yes; but as I'm neither," I said grimly, "I should like you to
+understand that I'm not going to pay for this spread."
+
+"What!" gasped the Infant. "Invite a man to lunch, and expect him to
+square the bill?"
+
+"I never invited you!" I said indignantly.
+
+"Who then?" said Towers sternly.
+
+"Jones!" I answered.
+
+"Yes, my lord! Sorry to have kept your lordship waiting; but I think
+you will find these cigarettes to your liking. I haven't been at this
+box since Lord Porchester was here, and it got mislaid."
+
+"Take them away!" I roared. "They're Egyptians!"
+
+"Yes, my lord!" said Jones, in delight.
+
+He glided proudly from the room.
+
+"'Jones invited us?'" pursued the Infant. "What rot! As if Jones
+would dare do anything you hadn't told him. _We_ are his slaves. But
+you? Why, he hangs on your words!"
+
+"D---- him! I should like to see him hanging on something higher!" I
+cried.
+
+"Yes, your language _is_ low," admitted the Infant. "But, seriously,
+what's all the row about? I thought this champagne lunch was a bit of
+realism, just to start off with."
+
+I explained briefly how Jones had coiled himself around me, even as
+they had described. The dado echoed their ribald laughter.
+
+"Oh, well," said the Infant, "it's only right you should give a lunch
+the day you come into a peerage. It's really too much to expect us to
+pay scot, when there was a beautiful lunch of cold beef and pickles
+waiting for us in the dining-room, and included in our terms per week.
+We aren't going to pay for two lunches."
+
+"I don't mind the lunch," I said, smiling, my sense of humour
+returning now that I had poured forth my grievance. "I'd gladly give
+you chaps a lunch any day, and I'm pleased you enjoyed it so much.
+But, for the rest, I'm going to run this joke by syndicate, or not at
+all. I only came down with a tenner."
+
+"A pound a day!" said Towers, "that ought to be enough."
+
+"Why, there's a pound gone bang over this lunch already!" I retorted.
+
+"And then there's the apartments," put in the Infant roguishly. "I
+wonder what they'll tot up to?"
+
+"Jones alone knows," I groaned.
+
+He came in--a veritable devil--while his name was on my lips, with a
+new box of cigarettes.
+
+"Clear away!" I said briefly.
+
+He cleared away, and we breathed freely. We leaned back in the
+plush-covered easy-chairs, sending rings of fragrant smoke towards the
+blue horizon, and I felt more able to face the situation calmly.
+
+"I daresay we can lend you five quid between us," said Towers.
+
+"What's the good of a loan to an honest man?" I asked. "Can't we work
+the joke without such a lot of capital? The first thing is to get out
+of these rooms, and into that cosy little crib near you. I can say I
+yearn for your society."
+
+"But have you the courage to look Jones in the face and tell him
+that?" queried Towers dubiously.
+
+I hesitated. I felt instinctively that Jones would be dreadfully
+shocked if I changed my palatial apartments for a cheap bedroom; that
+it would be better if some one else broke the news.
+
+"Oh, the Infant'll explain," I said lightly.
+
+"Nothing of the sort," said the Infant; "it won't wash now. Besides,
+they'd make you shell out in any case. They'd pretend they turned lots
+of applicants away this morning, because the rooms were let. No, keep
+the bedroom, and we'll go shares in this sitting-room. It's jollier to
+have a proper private room."
+
+"Good!" I said. "Then it only remains to escape from these special
+meals and the champagne."
+
+"You leave that to me," said the Infant. "I'll tell Jones that you
+hunger for our company at meals, but that we can't consent to come up
+here, because you, with that reckless prodigality which is wearing the
+dowager-duchess to a shadow, insist on paying for everything consumed
+on your premises, so that you must e'en come to the general table.
+Jones will be glad enough to trot you round."
+
+"And I'll tell him," added Towers, "that, with that determined
+dipsomania which is making the money-lenders daily friendlier to your
+little brother, you swill champagne till you fly at waiters' throats
+like a mad dog, and that it is our sacred duty to diet you on
+table-beer or Tintara."
+
+"Wouldn't it be simpler to tell him the truth?" I asked feebly.
+
+"What!" gasped the Infant, "chuck up the sponge? Don't spoil the
+loveliest holiday I ever had, old man. Just think how you will go up
+in his estimation, when we tell him you are a spendthrift and a
+drunkard! For pity's sake, don't throw a gloom over Jones's life."
+
+"Very well," I said, relenting. "Only the exes must be cut down. The
+motto must be, 'Extravaganza without extravagance, or farces
+economically conducted.'"
+
+"Right you are!" they said; and then we smoked on in halcyon
+voluptuousness, now and then passing the matches or a droll remark
+about Jones. In the middle of one of the latter there was a knock at
+the door, and Jones entered.
+
+"The carriage will be round in five minutes, my lord," he announced.
+
+"The carriage!" I faltered, growing pale.
+
+"Yes, my lord. I took the liberty of thinking your lordship wouldn't
+waste such a fine afternoon indoors."
+
+"No; I'm going out at once," I said resolutely. "But I shan't drive."
+
+"Very well, my lord; I will countermand the carriage, and order a
+horse. I presume your lordship would like a spirited one? Jayes, up
+the street, has a beautiful bay steed."
+
+"Thank you; I don't care for riding--er--other people's horses."
+
+"No; of course not, my lord. I'll see that the _May blossom_ is
+reserved for your lordship's use this afternoon. Your lordship will
+have time for a glorious sail before dinner."
+
+He hastened from the room.
+
+"You'd better have the carriage," said the Infant drily; "it's cheaper
+than the yacht. You'll have to have it once, and you may as well get
+it over. After one trial, you can say it's too springless and the
+cushions are too crustaceous for your delicate anatomy."
+
+"I'll see him at Jericho first!" I cried, and wrenched at the
+bell-pull with angry determination.
+
+"Yes, my lord!"
+
+He stood bent and insinuative before me.
+
+"I won't have the yacht."
+
+"Very well, my lord; then I won't countermand the carriage."
+
+He turned to go.
+
+"Jones!" I shrieked.
+
+He looked back at me. His eyes, full of a trusting reverence, met
+mine. My resolution began oozing out at every pore.
+
+"Is--is--are _you_ going with the carriage?" I stammered, for want of
+something to say.
+
+"No, my lord," he answered wistfully.
+
+That settled it. I let him depart without another word.
+
+It was certainly a pleasant drive through the delightful scenery of
+the Isle, and I determined, since I had to pay the piper, to enjoy the
+dance. The Infant and Towers were hilarious to the point of vulgarity:
+I let myself go at the will of Jones. When we got back, we realised
+with a start that it was half-past six. The dressing-gong was
+sounding. Jones met me in the passage.
+
+"Dinner at seven, my lord, in your room."
+
+I made frantic motions to the Infant.
+
+"Tell him!" I breathed.
+
+"It's too late now," he whispered back. "To-morrow!"
+
+I telegraphed desperately to Towers. He shook his thick head
+helplessly.
+
+"Have you invited my friends to dinner?" I asked Jones bitingly.
+
+"No, my lord," he said simply. "I thought your lordship 'ad seen
+enough of them to-day."
+
+There was a suggestion of reproach in the apology. Jones was more
+careful of my dignity than I was.
+
+When I got to my room, I found, to my horror, my dress-clothes laid
+out on the bed--I had brought them on the off-chance of going to a
+local dance. Jones had opened my portmanteau. For a moment a cold
+chill traversed my spine, as I thought he must have seen the monogram
+on my linen, and discovered the imposture. Then I remembered with joy
+that it was an "E," which is the more formal initial of Ted, and would
+do for Everett. In my relief, I felt I must submit to the nuisance of
+dressing--in honour of Jones. While changing my trousers, a sudden
+curiosity took me. I peeped through the keyhole of my sitting-room,
+and saw Jones just arriving with another bottle of Heidsieck. I
+groaned. I knew I should have to drink it, to keep up the fiction
+Towers was going to palm off on Jones to-morrow. I felt like bolting
+on the spot, but I was in my Jaegers. Presently Jones sidled
+mysteriously towards my door and knelt down before it. It flashed upon
+me he wanted the keyhole I was occupying. I jumped up in alarm, and
+dressed with the decorum of a god with a worshipper's eye on him.
+
+I swallowed what Jones gave me, fuming. With the roast, a blessed
+thought came to soothe me. Thenceforward I chuckled continuously. I
+refused the _parfait aux frais_ and the savoury in my eagerness for
+the end of the meal. Revenge was sufficient sweets.
+
+"Haw, hum!" I murmured, caressing my moustache. "Bring me a Damtidam."
+
+I knew his little phial must be exhausted long since. I intended to
+give him a bottle.
+
+"Did your lordship say Damtidam?"
+
+"Damtidam!" I roared, while my heart beat voluptuous music. "You don't
+mean to say you don't keep it?"
+
+"Oh no, my lord! We laid in a big stock of it; but Lord Porchester was
+that fond of it (used to drink it like your lordship does champagne),
+I doubt if I could lay my hand on a bottle."
+
+"What an awful bo-ah!" I yawned. "I suppose I'll have to get a bottle
+of my own out of that little black box under my bed. I couldn't
+possibly go without it after dinner. Hang it all, the key is in my
+other trousers!"
+
+"Oh, don't trouble, my lord," said Jones anxiously. "I'll run and see
+if I can find any."
+
+I waited, gloating.
+
+Jones returned gleefully.
+
+"I've found plenty, my lord," he said, setting down a brimming
+liqueur-glass.
+
+He lingered about, clearing the table. His eye was upon me. I drank
+the Damtidam. Then Jones departed, and I went about kicking the
+furniture, and striding about in my desolate grandeur, like Napoleon
+at St. Helena.
+
+Presently the Infant and Towers came rushing in, choking with
+laughter.
+
+"Your arrival has fired afresh all Jones's aristocratic ambitions,"
+gurgled Towers. "Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+"Ho! ho! ho!" panted the Infant. "He's coaxed us out of all our
+remaining Damtidam."
+
+I grinned a sickly response.
+
+"Great Scot!" the Infant bellowed. "What's this howling wilderness of
+shirt-front?"
+
+"It's cooler," I explained.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE QUEEN COMES INTO PLAY.
+
+I had to breakfast in my room, but by lunch the next day my friends
+had found an opportunity to explain me to Jones. They had on several
+occasions strongly exhorted Jones to secrecy as to my rank, so that
+the eyes of the whole table were on me when I entered. I ate with the
+ease of one conscious of giving involuntary lessons in etiquette to a
+furtive-glancing bourgeoisie. The Infant gave me Tintara, to break me
+gradually of champagne and reduce me to malt. After lunch Towers
+remonstrated with Jones on having obviously given me away.
+
+"Sir," protested Jones, in righteous indignation, "I promised to tell
+no one in the hotel, and I have kept my word!"
+
+"Well, how do they know then?" enquired Towers.
+
+"I shouldn't be surprised if they read it in the _Visitors' List_,"
+Jones answered.
+
+Being now half-emancipated, I fell into the usual routine of a seaside
+holiday. I swam, I rowed, I walked, I lounged, whenever Jones would
+let me. One wet morning we even congratulated ourselves on our
+luxurious sitting-room, as we sat and smoked before the rain-whipt
+sea, till, unexpected, Jones brought up lunch for three. That evening,
+as we were entering the dining-room, Jones observed humbly to the
+Infant and Towers:
+
+"Excuse me, gentlemen; I 'ave 'ad to separate you from his lordship.
+We've 'ad such a influx of visitors for the Review, I've been 'ard put
+to it to squeeze them all in."
+
+Those wretched cowards marched feebly to a new extremity of the table,
+while I walked to my usual seat near the window, with anger flaming
+duskily on my brow. This time I was determined. I would stick to
+table-beer all the same.
+
+But before I dropped into my chair every trace of anger vanished. My
+heart throbbed violently, my dazzled eyes surveyed my _serviette_. At
+my side was one of the most charming girls I had ever met. When the
+Heidsieck came, I raised my glass as in a dream, and silently drank to
+the glorious creature nearest my heart--on the left hand.
+
+We medicos are not easily upset by woman's beauty; we know too well
+what it is made of. But there was something so exquisite about this
+girl's face as to make a hardened materialist hesitate to resolve her
+into a physiological formula. It was not long before I offered to pass
+her the pepper. She declined with thanks and brevity. Her accent
+grated unexpectedly on my ear: I was puzzled to know why. I spoke of
+the rain that still tapped at the window, as if anxious to come in.
+
+"It was raining when I left Paris," she said; "but up till then I had
+a lovely time."
+
+Now I saw what was the matter. She suffered from twang and was
+American. I have always had a prejudice against Americans--chiefly, I
+believe, because they always seem to be having "a lovely time." It was
+with a sense of partial disenchantment that I continued the
+conversation:
+
+"So you have been in Paris?" I said, thinking of the old joke about
+good Americans going there when they die. "I must admit you look as if
+you had come from Heaven!"
+
+"So wretched as all that!" she retorted, laughing merrily. There was
+no twang in the laugh; it was a ripple of music.
+
+"I don't mean an exile from Heaven," I answered: "an excursionist,
+with a return-ticket."
+
+"Oh! but I'm not going back," she said, shaking her lovely head.
+
+"Not even when you die?" I asked, smiling.
+
+"I guess I shall need a warmer climate then!" she flashed back
+audaciously.
+
+"You're too good for that," I answered, without hesitation.
+
+I caught a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes, as she answered:
+
+"Gracious! you're very spry at giving strange folks certificates."
+
+"It's my business to give certificates," I answered, smiling.
+
+"Marriage certificates, my lord?" she asked roguishly.
+
+I was about to answer "Doctors' certificates," but her last two
+syllables froze the words on my lips.
+
+"You--you--know me?" I stammered.
+
+"Yes, your lordship," with a mock bow.
+
+"Why--how--?" I faltered. "You've only just come."
+
+"Jones," she answered.
+
+"Jones!" I repeated, vexed.
+
+"Yes, my lord."
+
+He glided up and re-filled my glass.
+
+"Jones is a nuisance," I said, when he was out of earshot again.
+
+"Jones is a Britisher!" she said enigmatically. "Surely you don't mind
+people knowing who you are?"
+
+"I'm afraid I do," I replied uneasily.
+
+"I guess your reputation must be real shady," she said, with her
+American candour. "You English lords, we have just about sized you up
+in the States."
+
+"I--I--" I stammered.
+
+"No! don't tell me," she interrupted quickly; "I'd rather not know. My
+aunt here, that lady on my left,--she's a widow and half a Britisher,
+and respectable, don't you know,--will want me to cut you."
+
+"And you don't want to?" I exclaimed eagerly.
+
+"Well, one must talk to somebody," she said, arching her eyebrows.
+"It's all very well for my aunt. She's left her children at home.
+That's happiness enough for her. But that don't make things equally
+lively for me."
+
+"Your language is frank," I said laughingly.
+
+"Yes, that's one of the languages you've forgotten how to speak in
+this old country."
+
+Again that musical ripple of mirth. Her fascination was fast
+enswathing me like another Jones, only a thousandfold more sweetly.
+Already I found her twang delightful, lending the last touch of charm
+to her original utterances. I looked up suddenly, and saw the Infant
+and Towers glaring enviously at me from the other end of the table.
+Then I was quite happy. True, they had the sprightly O'Rafferty
+between them, but he did not seem to console them--rather to chaff
+them.
+
+"Ho! ho!" I roared, when we reached our sitting-room that night.
+"There's virtue in the peerage after all."
+
+"Shut up!" the Infant snarled. "If you think you're going to annex
+that ripping creature, I warn you that bloated aristocracy will have
+to settle up for its marble halls. We're running this thing by
+syndicate, remember."
+
+"Yes, but this isn't part of the profits," I urged defiantly.
+
+"Oh, isn't it?" put in Towers. "Why do you suppose Jones sat her next
+to you, if not as a prerogative of nobility?"
+
+"Well, but if I can get her to go out with me alone, that's a private
+transaction."
+
+"No go, Teddy," said the Infant. "We don't allow you to play for your
+own hand."
+
+"Or hers," added Towers. "While you were spooning, Jones was telling
+us all about her. Her name's Harper--Ethelberta Harper, and her old
+man is a Railway King, or something."
+
+"She's a queen--I don't care of what!" I said fervently. "We got very
+chummy, and I'm going to take her for a row to-morrow morning. It's
+not my fault if she doesn't pal on to you."
+
+"Stow that cant!" cried the Infant. "Either you surrender her to the
+syndicate or pay your own exes. Choose!"
+
+"Well, I'll compromise!" I said desperately.
+
+"No, you don't! It's to prevent your compromising her we want to stand
+in. We'll all go for that row."
+
+"No, listen to my suggestion. I'll invite her to lunch after the row,
+and I'll invite you fellows to meet her."
+
+"But how do you know she'll come?" said Towers.
+
+"She will if I ask her aunt too."
+
+"Scoundrel, you've asked them both already!" cried the Infant.
+"Where's the compromise?"
+
+"I hadn't asked _you_ already," I reminded him.
+
+"No, but now you propose to use the capital of the syndicate!" he
+rejoined sharply.
+
+"Nothing of the kind," I retorted rashly.
+
+So it was settled. I had four guests to lunch, and Jones expanded
+visibly. The Infant and Towers kept Miss Harper pretty well to
+themselves, while I was left to entertain Mrs. Windpeg, a comely but
+tedious lady, who gave me details of her life in England since she
+left New York, a newly married wife, twenty years before. She seemed
+greatly interested in these details. Ethelberta paid no attention to
+her aunt, but a great deal to my friends. Several times I found myself
+gnawing my lip instead of my wing. But I had my revenge at the _table
+d'hote_. Jones kept my friends remorselessly at bay, and religiously
+guarded my proximity to the lovely American. Strange mental
+revolution! The idea of tipping Jones actually commenced to germinate
+in my mind.
+
+It was on Review-day that I realised I was hopelessly in love. Of
+course my quartet of friends was at the windows of my sitting-room.
+Jones also selected this room to see the Review from, and I fancy he
+regaled my visitors with delicate refreshments throughout the day, and
+I remember being vaguely glad that he made amends for the general
+neglect of Mrs. Windpeg by offering her the choicest titbits; but I
+have no clear recollection of anything but Ethelberta. Her face was my
+Review, though there was no powder on it. The play of light on her
+cheeks and hair was all the manoeuvres I cared for--the pearls of
+her mouth were my ranged rows of ships; and when everybody else was
+peering hopelessly into the thick smoke, my eyes were feasting on the
+sunshine of her face. I did not hear the cannon, nor the long, endless
+clamour of the packed streets, only the soft words she spoke from time
+to time.
+
+"To-morrow morning I must go away," I murmured to her at dinner. I
+fancied she grew paler, but I could not be sure, for Jones at that
+moment changed my plate.
+
+"I am sorry," she said simply. "Must you go?"
+
+"Yes," I answered sadly. "My beautiful holiday is over. To-morrow, to
+work."
+
+"I thought, for you lords, life was one long holiday," she said,
+surprised.
+
+I was glad of the reminder. My love was hopeless. A struggling doctor
+could not ask for the hand of an heiress. Even if he could, it would
+be a poor recommendation to start with a confession of imposture. To
+ask, without confessing, were to become a scoundrel and a
+fortune-hunter of the lowest type. No; better to pass from her ken,
+leaving her memory of me untainted by suspicion--leaving my memory of
+her an idyllic, unfinished dream. And yet I could not help reflecting,
+with agony, that if I had not begun under false colours, if I had come
+to her only as what I was, I might have dared to ask for her
+love--yea, and perhaps have won it. Oh, how weak I had been not to
+tell her from the first! As if she would not have appreciated the
+joke! As if she would not have enrolled herself joyously in the
+campaign against Jones!
+
+"Ah! my life will be anything but a long holiday, I fear," I sighed.
+
+"Say, you're not an hereditary legislator?" she asked.
+
+"Legislation is not the hereditary disease I complain of," I said
+evasively.
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Love!" I replied desperately.
+
+She laughed gaily.
+
+"I guess that's an original view of love."
+
+"Why? My parents suffered from it: at least, I hope they did."
+
+"Doubtful! Your Upper Ten is usually supposed to have cured marriage
+of it."
+
+She bent her head over her plate, so that I strove in vain to read her
+eyes.
+
+"Well, it's a beastly shame," I said. "Don't you think so, Miss
+Harper--Ethelberta? May I call you Ethelberta?"
+
+"If it gives you any comfort," she said plumply.
+
+"It gives me more than comfort," I rejoined.
+
+A wild hope flamed in my breast. What if she loved me after all! I
+would speak the word. But no! If she did, I had won her love under a
+false glamour of nobility. Better, far better, to keep both my secrets
+in my own breast. Besides, had I not seen she was a flirt? I continued
+to call her Ethelberta, but that was all. When we rose from table I
+had not spoken; knowing that my friends would claim my society for the
+rest of the evening, I held out my hand in final farewell. She took
+it. Her own hand was hot. I clasped it for a moment, gazing into the
+wonderful blue eyes; then I let it go, and all was over.
+
+"I do believe Teddy is hit!" Towers said when I came into our room,
+whither they had preceded me.
+
+"Rot!" I said, turning my face away. "A seasoned bachelor like me.
+Heigho! I shall be awfully glad to get to work again to-morrow."
+
+"Yes," said the Infant. "I see from the statistics that the mortality
+of your district has declined frightfully. That Robins must be a
+regular duffer."
+
+"I'll soon set that right!" I exclaimed, with a forced grin.
+
+"She certainly is a stunner," Towers mused.
+
+"Hullo! I'm afraid it's Merton that's damaged," I laughed
+boisterously.
+
+"Well, if she wasn't an heiress--" began Towers slowly.
+
+"She might have you," finished the Infant. "But I say, boys, we'd
+better ask for our bills; we've got to be off in the morning by the
+8.5. Jones mightn't be up when we leave."
+
+The room echoed with sardonic laughter at the idea. There was no need
+to ring for Jones; he found two pretexts an hour to come and gaze upon
+me. When my bill came, I went to the window for air and to hide my
+face from Jones.
+
+"All right, Jones!" cried the Infant, guessing what was up. "We'll
+leave it on the table before we go to bed."
+
+"Well?" my friends enquired eagerly, when Jones had crawled off.
+
+"Twenty-seven pounds two and tenpence!" I groaned, letting the
+accursed paper drift helplessly to the floor.
+
+"D----d reasonable!" said the Infant.
+
+"You would go it!" Towers added soothingly.
+
+"Reasonable or not," I said, "I've only got six pounds in my pockets."
+
+"You said you brought ten," said Towers.
+
+"Yes! but what of carriage-sails and yacht-drives?" I cried
+agitatedly.
+
+"You're drunk," said the Infant brutally. "However, I suppose, before
+going into dividing exes we must get together the gross sum."
+
+It was easier said than done. When every farthing had been scraped
+together, we were thirteen pounds short on the three bills. We held a
+long council of war, discussing the possibilities of surreptitious
+pledging--the unspeakable Jones, playing his blindfold game, had
+reduced us to pawn--but even these were impracticable.
+
+"Confound you!" cried Merton Towers. "Why didn't you think of the bill
+before?"
+
+As if I had not better things to think of!
+
+The horror of facing Jones in the morning drove us to the most
+desperate devices; but none seemed workable.
+
+"There's only one way left of getting the coin, Teddy," said the
+Infant at last.
+
+"What's that?" I cried eagerly.
+
+"Ask the heiress."
+
+It was an ambiguous phrase, but in whatever sense he meant it, it was
+a cruel and unmanly thrust; in my indignation I saw light.
+
+"What fools we have been!" I shouted. "It's as easy as A B C. I'm not
+in an office like you, bound to be back to the day--I stay on over
+to-morrow, and you send me on the money from town."
+
+"Where are we to get it from?" growled Towers.
+
+"Anywhere! anybody!" I cried excitedly; "I'll write to Robins at once
+for it."
+
+"Why not wire?" said the Infant.
+
+"I don't see the necessity for wasting sixpence," I said; "we must be
+economical. Besides, Jones would read the wire."
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE WINNING MOVE.
+
+Time slipped on; but I could not tear myself away from this enchanted
+hotel. The departure of my friends allowed me to be nearly all day
+with Ethelberta.
+
+I had drowned reason and conscience: day followed day in a golden
+languor and the longer I stopped, the harder it was to go. At last
+Robins's telegrams became too imperative to be disregarded, and even
+my second supply of money would not suffice for another day.
+
+The bitter experience of parting had to be faced again; the miserable
+evening, when I had first called her Ethelberta, had to be repeated.
+We spoke little at dinner; afterwards, as I had not my friends to go
+to this time, we left Mrs. Windpeg sitting over her dessert, and
+paced up and down in the little cultivated enclosure which separated
+the hotel from the parade. It was a balmy evening; the moon was up,
+silvering the greenery, stretching a rippling band across the sea, and
+touching Ethelberta's face to a more marvellous fairness. The air was
+heavy with perfume; everything combined to soften my mood. Tears came
+into my eyes as I thought that this was the very last respite. Those
+tears seemed to purge my vision: I saw the beauty of truth and
+sincerity, and felt that I could not go away without telling her who I
+really was; then, in future years, whatever she thought of me, I, at
+least, could think of her sacredly, with no cloud of falseness between
+me and her.
+
+"Ethelberta!" I said, in low trembling tones.
+
+"Lord Everett!" she murmured responsively.
+
+"I have a confession to make."
+
+She flushed and lowered her eyes.
+
+"No, no!" she said agitatedly; "spare me that confession. I have heard
+it so often; it is so conventional. Let us part friends."
+
+She looked up into my face with that frank, heavenly glance of hers.
+It shook my resolution, but I recovered myself and went on:
+
+"It is not a conventional confession. I was not going to say I love
+you."
+
+"No?" she murmured.
+
+Was it the tricksy play of the moon among the clouds, or did a shade
+of disappointment flit across her face? Were her words genuine, or was
+she only a coquette? I stopped not to analyse; I paused not to
+enquire; I forgot everything but the loveliness that intoxicated me.
+
+"I--I--mean I was!" I stammered awkwardly; "I have loved you from the
+first moment I saw you."
+
+I strove to take her hand; but she drew it away haughtily.
+
+"Lord Everett, it is impossible! Say no more."
+
+The twang dropped from her speech in her dignity; her accents rang
+pure and sweet.
+
+"Why not?" I cried passionately. "Why is it impossible? You seemed to
+care for me."
+
+She was silent; at last she answered slowly:
+
+"You are a lord! I cannot marry a lord."
+
+My heart gave a great leap, then I felt cold as ice.
+
+"Because I am a lord?" I murmured wonderingly.
+
+"Yes! I--I--flirted with you at first out of pure fun--believe me,
+that was the truth. If I loved you now," her words were tremulous and
+almost inaudible, "it would be right that I should be punished. We
+must never meet again. Good-bye!"
+
+She stood still and extended her hand.
+
+I touched it with my icy fingers.
+
+"Oh! if you had only let me confess just now what I wanted to!" I
+cried in agony.
+
+"Confess what?" she said. "Have you not confessed?"
+
+"No! You may disbelieve me now; but I wanted to tell you that I am not
+a lord at all, that I only became one through Jones."
+
+Her lovely eyes dilated with surprise. I explained briefly,
+confusedly.
+
+She laughed, but there was a catch in her voice.
+
+"Listen!" she said hurriedly, starting pacing again; "I, too, have a
+confession to make. Jones has corrupted me too. I'm not an heiress at
+all, nor even an American--just a moderately successful London
+actress, resting a few weeks, and Mrs. Windpeg is only my companion
+and general factotum, the widow of a drunken stage-carpenter, who left
+her without resources, poor thing. But we had hardly crossed the
+steps of the hotel, before Jones mentioned Lord Everett was in the
+place, and buzzed the name so in our ears that the idea of a wild
+frolic flashed into my head. I am a great flirt, you know, and I
+thought that while I had the chance I would test the belief that
+English lords always fall in love with American heiresses."
+
+"It was no test," I interrupted. "A Chinese Mandarin would fall in
+love with you equally."
+
+"I let Mrs. Windpeg tell Jones all about me--imaginatively," she went
+on with a sad smile; "I told her to call me Harper, because _Harper's
+Magazine_ came into my mind. But it was Jones who seated us together.
+I will believe that you took a genuine liking to me; still, it was a
+foolish freak on both sides, and we must both forget it as soon as
+possible."
+
+"I can never forget it!" I said passionately; "I love you; and I dare
+to think you care for me, though while you fancied I was a peer you
+stifled the feeling that had grown up despite you. Believe me, I
+understand the purity of your motives, and love you the more for
+them."
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Good-bye!" she faltered.
+
+"I will not say 'good-bye'! I have little to offer you, but it
+includes a heart that is aching for you. There is no reason now why we
+should part."
+
+Her lips were white in the moonlight.
+
+"I never said I loved you," she murmured.
+
+"Not in so many words," I admitted; "but why did you let me call you
+Ethelberta?" I asked passionately.
+
+"Because it is not my name," she answered; and a ghost of the old gay
+smile lit up the lovely features.
+
+I stood for a moment dumbfounded. Unconsciously we had come to a
+standstill under the window of the dining-room.
+
+She took advantage of my consternation to say more lightly:
+
+"Come, let us part friends."
+
+I dimly understood that, in some subtle way I was too coarse to
+comprehend, she was ashamed of the part she had played throughout,
+that she would punish herself by renunciation. I knew not what to say;
+I saw the happiness of my life fading before my eyes. She held out her
+hand for the last time and I clasped it mechanically. So we stood,
+silent.
+
+"What does that matter, Mrs. Windpeg? You're a real lady, that's
+enough for me. It wasn't because I thought you had money that I
+ventured to raise my eyes to you."
+
+We started. It was the voice of Jones. Mrs. Windpeg had evidently
+lingered too long over her dessert.
+
+"But I tell you I have nothing at all--nothing!" came the voice of
+Mrs. Windpeg.
+
+"I don't want it. You see, I'm like you--not what I seem. This place
+belongs to me, only I was born and bred a waiter in this very hotel,
+and I don't see why the 'ouse shouldn't profit by the tips instead of
+a stranger. My son does the show part; but he ain't fit for anything
+but reading Dickens and other low-class writers, and I feel the want
+of a real lady, knowing the ways of the aristocrats. What with Lord
+Porchester and Lord Everett, it looks as if this hotel is going to be
+fashionable and I know there's lots of 'igh-class wrinkles I ain't
+picked up yet. Only lately I was flummoxed by a gent asking for a
+liqueur I'd never 'eard of. You're mixed up with tip-top swells; I
+loved you from the moment I saw you fold your first _serviette_. I'm a
+widower, you're a widow. Let bygones be bygones. Why shouldn't we make
+a match of it?"
+
+We looked at each other and laughed; false subtleties were swept away
+by a wave of mutual merriment.
+
+"'Let bygones be bygones. Why shouldn't we make a match of it?'" I
+echoed. "Jones is right." I tightened my grasp of her hand and drew
+her towards me, almost without resistance. "You're going to lose your
+companion, you'll want another."
+
+Her lovely face came nearer and nearer.
+
+"Besides," I said gaily, "I understand you're out of an engagement."
+
+"Thanks," she said; "I don't care for an engagement in the Provinces,
+and I have sworn never to marry in the profession: they're a bad lot."
+
+"Call me an actor?"
+
+My lips were almost on hers.
+
+"You played Lord Dundreary--not unforgivably."
+
+Our lips met!
+
+"Oh, Augustus," came the voice of Mrs. Windpeg, "I feel so faint with
+happiness!"
+
+"Loose your arms a moment, my popsy. I'll fetch you a drop of
+Damtidam!" answered the voice of Jones.
+
+
+
+
+_The Principal Boy._
+
+
+I.
+
+To sit out a play is a bore; to sit out a dance demands less patience.
+Even when you do it merely to prevent your partner dancing with you,
+it is the less disagreeable alternative. But it sometimes makes you
+giddier than galoping. Frank Redhill lost his head--a well-built
+head--completely through indulging in it; and without the head to look
+after it, the heart soon goes. He held Lucy's little hand in his hot
+clasp. She wished he would get himself gloves large enough not to
+split at the thumbs, and felt quite affectionate towards the dear,
+untidy boy. As a woman almost out of her teens, she could permit
+herself a motherly feeling for a lad who had but just attained his
+majority. The little thing looked very sweet in a demure dress of
+nun's veiling, which Frank would have described as "white robes." For
+he was only an undergraduate. Some undergraduates are past masters in
+the science and art of woman; but Frank was not in that set. Nor did
+he herd with the athletic, who drift mainly into the unpaid
+magistracy, nor with the worldly, who usually go in for the church. He
+was a reading man. Only he did not stick to the curriculum, but fed
+himself on the conceits of the poets, and thirsted to redeem mankind.
+So he got a second-class. But this is anticipating. Perhaps Lucy had
+been anticipating, too. At any rate she went through the scene as
+admirably as if she had rehearsed for it. And yet it was presumably
+the first time she had been asked to say: "I love you"--that wonderful
+little phrase, so easy to say and so hard to believe. Still, Lucy said
+and Frank believed it.
+
+Not that Lucy did not share his belief. It must be for love that she
+was conceding Frank her hand--since her mother objected to the match.
+As the nephew of a peer, Frank could give her rather better society
+than she now enjoyed, even if he could not give her that of the peer,
+who had an hereditary feud with him. Of course she could not marry him
+yet, he was quite too poor for that, but he was a young man of
+considerable talents--which are after all gold pieces. When fame and
+fortune came to him, Lucy would come and join the party. _En
+attendant_, their souls would be wed. They kissed each other
+passionately, sealing the contract of souls with the red sealing-wax
+of burning lips. To them in Paradise entered the Guardian Angel with
+flaming countenance, and drove them into the outer darkness of the
+brilliant ball-room.
+
+"My dear," said the Guardian Angel, who was Lucy Grayling's mother,
+"there is going to be an interval, and Mrs. Bayswater is so anxious
+for you to give that sweet recitation from Racine."
+
+So Lucy declaimed one of Athalie's terrible speeches in a way that
+enthralled those who understood it, and made those who didn't,
+enthusiastic.
+
+The applause did not seem to gratify the Guardian Angel as much as
+usual. Lucy wondered how much she had seen, and, disliking useless
+domestic discussion, extorted a promise of secrecy from her lover
+before they parted. He did not care about keeping anything from his
+father--especially something of which his approval was dubious. Still,
+all's fair and honourable in love--or love makes it seem so.
+
+Frank took a solemn view of engagement, and embraced Lucy in his
+general scheme for the redemption of mankind. He felt she was a sacred
+as well as a precious charge, and he promised himself to attend to her
+spiritual salvation in so far as her pure instincts needed guidance.
+He directed her reading in bulky letters bearing the Oxford post-mark.
+Meantime, Lucy disapproved of his neckties. She thought he would be
+even nicer with a loving wife to look after his wardrobe.
+
+
+II.
+
+When Frank achieved the indistinction of a second-class, as
+prematurely revealed, he went to Canada, and became a farm-pupil. It
+was not that his physique warranted the work, but there seemed no way
+in the old country of making enough money to marry Lucy (much less to
+redeem mankind) on. He was suffering, too, at the moment from a
+disgust with the schools, and a sentimental yearning to "return to
+nature."
+
+The parting with Lucy was bitter, but he carried her bright image in
+his heart, and wrote to her by every mail. In Canada he did not look
+at a woman, as the saying goes; true, the opportunities were scant on
+the lonely log-farm. Absence, distance, lent the last touch of
+idealisation and enchantment to his conception of Lucy. She stood to
+him not only for Womanhood and Purity, but for England, Home, and
+Beauty. Nay, the thought of her was even Culture, when the evening
+found him too worn with physical toil to read a page of the small
+library he had brought with him. He saw his way to profitable farming
+on his own account in a few years' time. Then Lucy would come out to
+him, if they should be too impatient to wait till he had made money
+enough to go to her.
+
+Lucy's letters did nothing to disabuse him of his ideals or his aims.
+They were charming, affectionate, and intellectual. Midway, in the
+batch he treasured more than eastern jewels, the sheets began to wear
+mourning for Lucy's mother. The Guardian Angel was gone--whether to
+continue the role none could say. Frank comforted the orphaned girl as
+best he could with epistolary kisses and condolences, and hoped she
+would get along pleasantly with her aunt till the necessity for that
+good relative vanished. And so the correspondence went on, Lucy's mind
+improving visibly under her lover's solicitous guidance. Then one day
+Redhill the elder cabled that by the death of his brother and nephew
+within a few days of each other, he had become Lord Redhill, and Frank
+consequently heir to a fine old peerage, and with an heir's income.
+Whereupon Frank returned forthwith from nature to civilisation. Now he
+could marry Lucy (and redeem mankind) immediately. Only he did not
+tell Lucy he was coming. He could not deny himself (or her) the
+pleasure of so pleasurable a surprise.
+
+
+III.
+
+It was a cold evening in early November when Frank's hansom drove up
+to the little house near Bond Street, where Lucy's aunt resided. He
+had not been to see his father yet; Lucy's angel-face hovered before
+him, warming the wintry air, and drawing him onwards towards the roof
+that sheltered her. The house was new to him; and as he paused outside
+for a moment, striving to still his emotion, his eye caught sight of a
+little placard in the window of the ground floor, inscribed
+"Apartments." He shuddered, a pang akin to self-reproach shot through
+him. Lucy's aunt was poor, was reduced to letting lodgings. Lucy
+herself had, perhaps, been left penniless. Delicacy had restrained her
+from alluding to her poverty in her letter. He had taken everything
+too much for granted--surely, straitened as were his means, he should
+have proffered her some assistance. A suspicion that he lacked worldly
+wisdom dawned upon him for the first time, as he rang the bell. Poor
+little Lucy! Well, whatever she had gone through, the bright days were
+come at last. The ocean which had severed them for so many weary moons
+no longer rolled between them--thank God, only the panels of the
+street-door divided them now. In another instant that darling head--no
+more the haunting elusive phantom of dream--would be upon his breast.
+Then as the door opened, the thought flashed upon him that she might
+not be in--the idea of waiting a single moment longer for her turned
+him sick. But his fears vanished at the encouraging expression on the
+face of the maid servant who opened the door.
+
+"Miss Gray's upstairs," she mumbled, without waiting for him to speak.
+And, all intelligent reflection swamped by a great wave of joy, he
+followed her up one narrow flight of stairs, and passed eagerly into a
+room to which she pointed. It was a bright, cosy room, prettily
+furnished, and a cheerful fire crackled on the hearth. There were
+books and flowers about, and engravings on the walls. The little round
+table was laid for tea. Everything smiled "welcome." But these details
+only gradually penetrated Frank's consciousness--for the moment all he
+saw was that _She_ was not there. Then he became aware of the fire,
+and moved involuntarily towards it, and held his hands over it, for
+they were almost numbed with the cold. Straightening himself again, he
+was startled by his own white face in the glass.
+
+He gazed at it dreamily, and beyond it towards the folding-doors,
+which led into an adjoining room. His eyes fixed themselves fascinated
+upon these reflected doors, and strayed no more. It was through them
+that she would come.
+
+Suddenly a dreadful thought occurred to him. When she came through
+those doors, what would be the effect of his presence upon her? Would
+not the sudden shock, joyful though it was, upset the fragile little
+beauty? Had he not even heard of people dying from joy? Why had he not
+prepared her for his return, if only to the tiniest extent? The
+suspicion that he lacked worldly wisdom gained in force. Tumultuous
+suggestions of retreat crossed his mind--but before he could move, the
+folding-doors in the mirror flew apart, and a radiant image dashed
+lightly through them. It was a vision of dazzling splendour that made
+his eyes blink--a beautiful glittering figure in tights and tinsel,
+the prancing prince of pantomime. For an infinitesimal fraction of a
+second, Frank had the horror of the thought that he had come into the
+wrong house.
+
+"Good evening, George," the Prince cried: "I had almost given you up."
+
+Great God! Was the voice, indeed, Lucy's? Frank grasped at the mantel,
+sick and blind, the world tumbling about his ears. The suspicion that
+he lacked worldly wisdom became a certainty. Slowly he turned his head
+to face the waves of dazzling colour that tossed before his dizzy
+eyes.
+
+The Prince's outstretched hand dropped suddenly. A startled shriek
+broke from the painted lips. The re-united lovers stood staring half
+blindly at each other. More than the Atlantic rolled between them.
+
+Lucy broke the terrible silence.
+
+"Brute!"
+
+It was his welcome home.
+
+"Brute?" he echoed interrogatively, in a low, hoarse whisper.
+
+"Brute and cad!" said the Prince vehemently, the musical tones
+strident with anger. "Is this your faith, your loyalty--to sneak back
+home like a thief--to peep through the keyhole to see if I was a good
+little girl--?"
+
+"Lucy! Don't!" he interrupted in anguished tones. "As there is a
+heaven above us, I had no suspicion--"
+
+"But you have now," the Prince interrupted with a bitter laugh.
+Neither made any attempt to touch the other, though they were but a
+few inches apart. "Out with it!"
+
+"Lucy, I have nothing to say against you. How should I? I know
+nothing. It is for you to speak. For pity's sake tell me all. What is
+this masquerade?"
+
+"This masquerade?" She touched her pink tights--he shuddered at the
+touch. "These are--" She paused. Why not tell the easy lie and be done
+with the whole business, and marry the dear, devoted boy? But the mad
+instinct of revolt and resentment swept over her in a flood that
+dragged the truth from her heart and hurled it at him. "These are the
+legs of Prince Prettypet. If I am lucky, I shall stand on them in the
+pantomime of _The Enchanted Princess; or, Harlequin Dick Turpin_, at
+the Oriental Theatre. The man who has the casting of the part is
+coming to see how I look."
+
+"You have gone on the stage?"
+
+"Yes; I couldn't live on your lectures," Prince Prettypet said, still
+in the same resentful tone. "I couldn't fritter away the little
+capital I had when mamma died, and then wait for starvation. I had no
+useful accomplishments. I could only recite--_Athalie_."
+
+"But surely your aunt--"
+
+"Is a fiction. Had she been a fact it would have been all the same. I
+had had enough of mamma. No more leading-strings!"
+
+"Lucy! And you wept over her so in your letters?"
+
+"Crocodile's tears. Heavens, are women to have no lives of their own?"
+
+"Oh, why did you not write to me of your difficulties?" he groaned. "I
+would have come over and fetched you--we would have borne poverty
+together."
+
+"Yes," the Prince said mockingly. "''E was werry good to me, 'e was.'
+Do you think I could submit to government by a prig?"
+
+He started as if stung. The little tinselled figure, looking taller in
+its swashbuckling habits, stared at him defiantly.
+
+"Tell me," he said brokenly, "have you made a living?"
+
+"No. If truth must be told, Lucy Gray--docked at the tail, sir--hasn't
+made enough to keep Lucy Grayling in theatrical costumes. I got plenty
+of kudos in the Provinces, but two of my managers were bogus."
+
+"Yes?" he said vaguely.
+
+"No treasury, don't you know? Ghost didn't walk. No oof, rhino,
+shiners, coin, cash, salary!"
+
+"Do I understand you have travelled about the country by yourself?"
+
+"By myself! What, in a company? You've picked up Irish in America. Ha!
+ha! ha!"
+
+"You know what I mean, Lucy." It seemed strange to call this new
+person Lucy, but "Miss Grayling" would have sounded just as strange.
+
+"Oh, there was sure to be a married lady--with her husband--in the
+troupe, poor thing!" The Prince had a roguish twinkle in the eye. "And
+surely I am old enough to take care of myself. Still, I felt you
+wouldn't like it. That's why I was anxious to get a London
+appearance--if only in East-end pantomime. The money's safe, and your
+notices are more valuable. I only want a show to take the town. I do
+hope George won't disappoint me. I thought you were he."
+
+"Who is George?" he said slowly, as if in pain.
+
+The shrill clamour of the bell answered him.
+
+"There he is!" said the Prince joyfully. "George is only Georgie
+Spanner, stage-manager of the Oriental. I have been besieging him for
+two days. Bella Bright, who had to play Prince Prettypet, has gone and
+eloped with the property-man, and as soon as I heard of it, I got a
+letter of introduction to Georgie Spanner, and he said I was too
+little, and I said that was nonsense--that I had played in burlesque
+at Eastbourne--Come in!"
+
+[Illustration: THE STAGE-MANAGER.]
+
+"Are you at home, miss?" said the maid, putting her head inside the
+door.
+
+"Certainly, Fanny. That's Mr. Spanner I told you of--" The girl's head
+looked puzzled as it removed itself. "And so he said if I would put my
+things on, he would try and run down for an hour this evening, and see
+if I looked the part."
+
+"And couldn't all that be done at the theatre?"
+
+"Of course it could. But it's ten times more convenient for me here.
+And it's very considerate of Georgie to come all this way--he's a very
+busy man, I can tell you."
+
+The street-door slammed loudly.
+
+A sudden paroxysm shook Frank's frame. "Lucy, send this man away--for
+God's sake." In his excitement he came nearer, he laid his hand
+pleadingly upon the glittering shoulder. The Prince trembled a little
+under his touch, and stood as in silent hesitancy. The stairs creaked
+under heavy footsteps.
+
+"Go to your room," he said more imperatively. Even in the wreck of his
+ideal, it was an added bitterness to think that limbs whose
+shapeliness had never even occurred to him, should be made a public
+spectacle. "Put on decent clothes."
+
+It was the wrong chord to touch. The Prince burst into a boisterous
+laugh. "Silly old MacDougall!"
+
+The footsteps were painfully near.
+
+"You are mad," Frank whispered hoarsely. "You are killing me--you whom
+I throned as an angel of light; you who were the first woman in the
+world--"
+
+"And now I'm going to be the Principal Boy," she laughed quietly back.
+"Is that you, dear old chap? Come in, George."
+
+The door opened--Frank, disgusted, heart-broken, moved back towards
+the window-curtains. A corpulent, beef-faced, double-chinned man, with
+a fat cigar and a fur overcoat, came in.
+
+"How do, Lucy? Cold, eh? What, in your togs? That's right."
+
+"There, you bad man! Don't I look ripping?"
+
+"Stunning, Lucy," he said, approaching her.
+
+"Well, then, down on your knees, George, and apologise for saying I
+was too little."
+
+"Well, I see more of you now, he! he! he! Yes, you'll do. What swell
+diggings!"
+
+"Come to the fire. Take that easy-chair. There, that's right, old man.
+Now, what is it to be? There's tea laid--you've let it get cold,
+unpunctual ruffian. Perhaps you'd like a brandy and soda better?"
+
+"M' yes."
+
+She rang the bell. "So glad--because there's only tea for two, and I
+know my friend would prefer tea," with a sneering intonation. "Let me
+introduce you--Mr. Redhill, Mr. Spanner, you have heard of Mr.
+Spanner, the celebrated author and stage-manager?"
+
+The celebrated author and stage-manager half rose in his easy-chair,
+startled, and not over-pleased. The pale-faced rival visitor, half
+hidden in the curtains, inclined his head stiffly, then moved towards
+the door.
+
+"Oh, no, don't run away like that, without a cup of tea, in this
+bitter weather. Mr. Spanner won't mind talking business before you,
+will you, George? Such a dear old friend, you know."
+
+It was a merry tea-party. Lucy rattled away bewitchingly, overpowering
+Mr. Spanner like an embodied brandy and soda. The slang of the green
+room and the sporting papers rolled musically off her tongue, grating
+on Frank's ear like the scraping of slate pencils. He had not insight
+enough to divine that she was accentuating her vulgar acquirements to
+torture him. Spanner went at last--for the Oriental boards claimed
+him--leaving behind him as nearly definite a promise of the part as a
+stage-manager can ever bring himself to utter. Lucy accompanied him
+downstairs. When she returned, Frank was still sitting as she had left
+him--one hand playing with the spoon in his cup, the rest of the body
+lethargic, immobile. She bent over him tenderly.
+
+"Frank!" she whispered.
+
+He shivered and looked up at the lovely face, daubed with rouge and
+pencilled at the eyebrows with black--as for the edification of the
+distant "gods." He lowered his eyes again, and said slowly: "Lucy, I
+have come back to marry you. What date will be most convenient to
+you?"
+
+"You want to marry me," she echoed in low tones. "All the same!" A
+strange wonderful light came into her eyes. The big lashes were
+threaded with glistening tears. She put her little hand caressingly
+upon his hair, and was silent.
+
+"Yes! it is an old promise. It shall be kept."
+
+"Ah!" She drew her hand away with an inarticulate cry. "Like a duty
+dance, but you do not love me?"
+
+He ignored the point. "I am rich now--my father has unexpectedly
+become Lord Redhill--you probably heard it!"
+
+"You don't love me! You can't love me!" It sounded like the cry of a
+soul in despair.
+
+"So there's no need for either of us to earn a living."
+
+"But you don't love me! You only want to save me."
+
+"Well, of course Lord Redhill wouldn't like his daughter-in-law to
+be--"
+
+"The Principal Boy--ha! ha! ha! But what--ho! ho! ho! I must laugh,
+Frank, old man, it _is_ so funny--what about the Principal Boy? Do you
+think he'd cotton to the idea of marrying a peer in embryo! Not if
+Lucy Gray knows it; no, by Jove! Why, when your coronet came along, I
+should have to leave the stage, or else people 'ud be saying I
+couldn't act worth a cent. They'd class me with Lady London and Lady
+Hansard--oh, Lord! Fancy me on the Drury Lane bills--Prince Prettypet,
+Lady Redhill. And then, great Scot, think whom they'd class you with.
+Ha! ha! ha! No, my boy, I'm not going to marry a microcephalous idiot.
+Ho! ho! ho! I wish somebody would put all this in a farce."
+
+"Do I understand that you wish to break off the engagement?" Frank
+said slowly, a note of surprise in his voice.
+
+"You've hit it--now that I hear about this peerage business--why
+didn't you tell me before? I'm out of all the gossip of court circles,
+and it wasn't in the _Era_. No, I might have redeemed my promise to a
+commoner, but a lord, ugh! I never had your sense of duty, Frank, and
+must really cry 'quits.' Now you see the value of secret
+engagements--ours is off, and nobody will be the wiser--or the worse.
+Now get thee to his lordship--concealment, like a worm i' the bud, no
+longer preying upon thy damask cheek. I was alway sorry you had to
+keep it from the old buffer. But it was for the best, wasn't it?--ha!
+ha!--it was for the best! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!"
+
+Frank fled down the staircase followed by long peals of musical
+laughter. They followed him into the bleak night, which had no frost
+for him; but they became less musical as they rang on, and as the
+terrified maid and the landlady strove in vain to allay the hysterical
+tempest.
+
+
+IV.
+
+The Oriental, on Boxing Night, was like a baker's oven for
+temperature, and an unopened sardine-barrel for populousness. The
+East-end had poured its rollicking multitudes into the vast theatre,
+which seethed over with noisy vitality. There was much traffic in
+ginger beer, oranges, Banbury cakes, and "bitter." The great audience
+roared itself hoarse over old choruses with new words. Lucy Gray, as
+Prince Prettypet, made an instant success. The mashers of the Oriental
+ogled her in silent flattery. Her clear elocution, her charming
+singing voice, her sprightly dancing, her _chic_, her frank vulgarity,
+when she "let herself go," took every heart captive. Every heart, that
+is, save one, which was filled with sickness and anguish, and covered
+with a veil of fine linen. The heir of the house of Redhill cowered at
+the back of the O.P. stage-box--the only place in the house disengaged
+when he drove up in a mistaken dress-suit. It was the first time he
+had seen Prince Prettypet since the merry tea-party, and he did not
+know why he was seeing her now. He hoped she did not see him. She
+pirouetted up to the front of his box pretty often during the evening,
+and several times hurled ancient wheezes at the riotous funnymen from
+that coign of vantage. Spoken so near his ear, the vulgar jokes
+tingled through him like lashes from a whip. Once she sang a chorus,
+winking in his direction. But that was the business of the song, and
+impersonal. He saw no sure signs of recognition, and was glad.
+
+[Illustration: THE ORIENTAL ON BOXING NIGHT.]
+
+When, during the gradual but gorgeous evolution of the Transformation
+Scene, he received a note from her, he remained glad. It ran, "The
+bearer will take you behind. I have no one to see me home. Always your
+friend--Lucy." He went "behind," following his guide through a
+confusion of coatless carpenters waving torches of blue and green fire
+from the wings, and gauzy, highly coloured Whitechapel girls
+ensconcing themselves in uncomfortable attitudes on wooden pedestals,
+which were mounting and descending.
+
+Georgie Spanner was bustling about, half crazed, amid a hubbub
+perfectly inaudible from the front; but he found time to scowl at
+Frank, as that gentleman stumbled over the pantaloon and fell against
+a little iron lever, whose turning might have plunged the stage in
+darkness. Frank found Lucy in a tiny cellar with whitewashed walls and
+a rough counter, on which stood a tin basin and a litter of "make up"
+materials. She had "changed" before he came. It was the first time for
+years he had seen her in her true womanly envelope. Assuredly she had
+grown far lovelier, and her face was flushed with triumph; otherwise
+it was the old Lucy. The Prince was washed off with the paint.
+
+Frank's eyes filled with tears. How hard he had been on her! Nay, had
+he not misjudged her? She looked so frail, so little, so childish,
+what guile could she know? It was all mere surface-froth on her lips!
+How narrow to set up his life, his ideals, as models, patterns! The
+poor little thing had her own tastes, her own individuality! How hard
+she worked to earn her own living! He bent down and kissed her
+forehead, remorsefully, as one might kiss an overscolded child. She
+drew his head down lower and kissed him--passionately--on the lips.
+"Let us wait a little," she said, as he spoke of sending for a hansom.
+"Sloman, the lessee, gives a little supper on the stage after the
+show--he'll be annoyed if I don't stay. He'll be delighted to have
+you."
+
+The pantomime had gone better than anyone had expected. It had been
+insufficiently rehearsed, and though everybody had said "it'll be all
+right at night"--in the immemorial phrase of the profession--they had
+said it more automatically than confidently. Consequently everyone was
+in high feather, and agreeably surprised at the accuracy of the
+prophesying. Even Georgie Spanner ceased to scowl under the genial
+influences of success and Sloman's very decent champagne. The air was
+full of laughter and gaiety, and everybody (except the clown) cracked
+jokes. The leading ladies made themselves pleasant, and did not swear.
+Everybody seemed to have acquired a new respect for Lucy, seeing her
+with such a real Belgravian swell. Probably she would soon have a
+theatre of her own.
+
+It was the Prig's first excursion into Bohemia, and he thought the
+natives very civil-spoken, naive, and cordial. Frank had no doubt now
+that Lucy was right, that he was a Prig to want to redeem mankind. And
+the conviction that he lacked worldly wisdom was sealed for aye.
+
+
+V.
+
+So he married her.
+
+
+
+
+_An Odd Life._
+
+
+It was the most curious case of croup I had ever attended. Not that
+there was anything unusual about the symptoms--they were so correct as
+to be devoid of the slightest interest. Certainly they were not worth
+while being called up for in the middle of the night. The patient it
+was that attracted my attention. He was a handsome baby of one year
+and nine months--by name Willy Streetside--with such an expression of
+candour and intelligence that I was moved to see him suffer. I sat
+down by his bedside, took his poor little feverish hand, and felt the
+weak quick pulse, and knew it had not much longer to beat. I put the
+glass of barley and water to his lips, and he drank eagerly. He seemed
+to be an orphan, in charge of a strange, silent serving-man,
+apparently the only other occupant of the luxurious and artistically
+furnished flat. I judged Downton to be a man of some culture, from the
+latest magazines strewn about the bedroom; but I could not help
+thinking that a female, more familiar with infantile ailments, might
+have been more useful. Apathetic and torpid though I was, from
+eighteen hours' continuous activity in a hundred sickrooms, my eyes
+filled with tears, and I sat for an instant, holding the little hand,
+listening to the poor child's painful breathing, and speculating on
+the mystery of that existence so early recalled. All his organs were
+sound. But for this accidental croup, I told myself, he might have
+lived till eighty. "Poor Willy Streetside!" I murmured, for his
+curious name clung to my memory.
+
+Suddenly the baby turned his blue eyes full on me, and said:
+
+"I suppose it's all up, doctor?"
+
+I started violently, and let go his hand. The words were perhaps not
+altogether beyond the capacity of an infant; but the air of manly
+resignation with which they were uttered was astonishing. For more
+reasons than one, I hesitated.
+
+"You need not be afraid to tell me the truth," said the baby, with a
+wistful smile; "I'm not afraid to hear it."
+
+"Well--well, you're pretty bad," I stammered.
+
+"Ah! thank you," the child replied gratefully. "How many hours do you
+give me?"
+
+The baby's gravity took my breath away. He spoke with an old-world
+courtesy and the ingenuous stateliness of an infant prince.
+
+"It may not be quite hopeless," I murmured.
+
+Willy shook his head, the pretty, wan features distorted by a quaint
+grimace.
+
+"I suppose I'm too young to rally," he said quietly, and closed his
+eyes.
+
+Presently he re-opened them, and added:
+
+"But I should have liked to live to see the Irish question settled."
+
+"You would?" I ejaculated, overwhelmed.
+
+"Yes," he said, adding with a whimsical expression in the wee blue
+eyes: "You mustn't think I crave for earthly immortality. I use
+'settled' in a merely rough sense. My mother was an Irish poetess,
+over whose songs impetuous Celts still break their hearts and their
+heads."
+
+I gazed speechless at this wonder-child, pushing the golden locks
+back from his feverish baby-brow, as if to assure myself by touching
+him that he was not a phantom.
+
+"Ah, well!" he finished, "it doesn't matter. I have had my day, and
+mustn't grumble. I scarcely thought, when I witnessed the dissolution
+of the third Gladstone Government, that I should have lived to see him
+Premier a fourth time. Three doctors told me I was breaking up fast."
+
+I began to be frightened of this extraordinary infant, divining some
+wizardry behind the candid little face--some latter-day mystery of
+re-incarnation, esoteric Buddhism, what-not. The child perceived my
+perturbation.
+
+"You are thinking I have packed a good deal into my short life," he
+said, with an amused smile. "And yet some men will make a Gladstone
+bag hold as much as a portmanteau. Gladstone has done so; and why not
+I, in my humble degree?"
+
+"True," I answered; "but you cannot begin to pack before you are
+born."
+
+"You are entirely mistaken," replied the baby, "if you think I have
+done anything so precocious as that."
+
+"Then you must have lived an odd life," I said, puzzled.
+
+"You have hit it!" exclaimed the child, with a suspicion of eagerness,
+not unmingled with surprise. "I did not mean to tell anyone; but since
+you are a man of science and I am on the point of death, you may as
+well know you have guessed the truth."
+
+"Have I?" I said, more bewildered than ever.
+
+"Yes. In all these years no one has suspected it. It has been
+carefully kept from outsiders. But now it would, perhaps, be childish
+folly to be reticent about it. It is the truth--the plain, literal
+truth--I have lived an odd life."
+
+"How did it begin?" I asked, scarce knowing what I said or what I
+meant.
+
+"You shall know all," said Willy. "I must begin before I was
+born--before I could begin packing, as you put it."
+
+His breath came and went painfully. Overwrought with curiosity as I
+was, I experienced a pang of compunction.
+
+"No, no; never mind," I said; "you have not the strength to speak
+much--you must not waste what you have."
+
+"It can only cost me a few minutes of life--I can spare the time," he
+answered, almost peevishly.
+
+Now that he had been strung up to speaking point, he seemed to resent
+my diminished interest.
+
+I put the glass of barley and water to his lips, and forced him to
+moisten his throat.
+
+"I can spare the time," he repeated, while an air of grim satisfaction
+came over the tiny features. "I have stolen plenty--I have outwitted
+the arch-thief himself. I have survived my own death."
+
+"What!" I gasped. "Have you already died?"
+
+"No, no," he replied fretfully; "I am only just going to die. That is
+how I have survived my death. How dull you are!"
+
+"You were going to begin at the beginning," I murmured feebly.
+
+"No! What is the use of beginning at the beginning?" this _enfant
+terrible_ enquired, in the same peevish tones. "I was going to begin
+before the beginning."
+
+"Yes, yes," I said soothingly, patting his golden curls; "you were
+going to begin before you were born."
+
+"With my mother," he said more gently. "She did not lead a very happy
+life--it enabled her to hymn the wrongs of her country. Her childhood
+was a succession of sorrows, her girlhood a mass of misfortunes; and
+when she married the man she loved, she found herself deserted by him
+a few months later. It was then that she first conceived the thought
+that has changed my life. It came to her in a moment of tears, as she
+sat over the ashes of her happiness. From that moment the thought
+never left her."
+
+There was a wild look in the baby's eyes. I began to suspect him of
+premature insanity.
+
+"What was this thought?" I murmured.
+
+"I am coming to it. There came into her head suddenly the refrain of a
+song she had learnt at school: 'Life like a river with constant
+motion.' 'The river of life! The stream of life! How true it is!' she
+mused. 'How much more than mere metaphors these phrases are! Verily,
+one's life flows on towards the dark ocean of death, irresistibly,
+unrestingly, willy-nilly--whether swift or slow, whether long or
+short--whether it flows through pleasant champaigns or dreary marshes,
+past romantic castled crags, or by bleak quarries. What is the use of
+experience, of knowledge of past bits of the route, when no two bits
+are ever really alike, when the future course is hidden and is always
+a panorama of surprises, when no life-stream knows what awaits it
+round the corner every time it turns, when the scenery of the source
+avails one nothing in one's resistless progress towards the scenery of
+the mouth? What is life but a series of mistakes, whose fruit is
+wisdom, maybe, but wisdom overripe? We do not pluck the fruit till it
+will no longer serve our appetites. Nothing repeats itself on the
+stage of existence--always new situations and new follies.
+_Experientia docet._ Experience teaches, indeed; but her lesson is
+that nothing can be learnt.'"
+
+The baby paused, and reached out his wasted hand for the glass. His
+pinafore and his tiny shoes on the chest of drawers caught my eye, and
+moistened it with the thought he would never don them again.
+
+"As my mother brooded upon this bitter truth," he resumed, when he had
+refreshed himself, "and saw how sad an illustration of it was her own
+life--with its sufferings and its mistakes--she could not help wishing
+existence had been ordered otherwise. If we had had at least two
+lives, we might profit in the second by the first. But, she told
+herself, with a sigh, this was vain day-dreaming. Then suddenly _the_
+thought flashed upon her. Granting that more than one life was
+impossible upon this planet, why should it not be differently
+distributed? Suppose, instead of flowing on like a stream, one's life
+progressed like a London street--the odd numbers on the one side and
+the even on the other, so that after doing the numbers 1, 3, 5, 7, 9,
+11, &c., &c., one could return and do the numbers 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12,
+&c., &c. Without craving from Providence more than man's allotted
+span, what if, by a slight re-arrangement of the years, it were
+possible to extort an infinitely greater degree of happiness from
+one's lifetime! What if it were possible to live the odd years,
+gleaning experience as well as joys, and then to return to the even
+years, armed with all the wisdom of one's age! What if _her_ child
+could enjoy this inestimable privilege! The thought haunted her, she
+brooded on it day and night; and when I was born, she drew me eagerly
+towards her, as if to see some mark of promise written on my forehead.
+But a year passed before she dared to think her wish had found
+fulfilment. On the eve of my first birthday she measured and weighed
+me with intense anxiety, though pretending to herself she only wished
+to keep a register of my growth. In the morning I was more by a year's
+inches and pounds. I had shot up at a bound into my third year, and
+manifested sudden symptoms of walking and talking. She almost fainted
+with joy when my unexpected teeth bit her finger. She could not get
+my shoes on me, nor my frock. But, although my mother had made no
+preparations for my changed condition, she welcomed the trouble I put
+her to, and carefully laid aside my useless garments, knowing I should
+want them again. The neighbours noticed nothing; they thought me a big
+boy for my age, and extremely precocious. When I was in my fifth year
+I went on the stage as an 'infant phenomenon,' my age being attested
+by my certificate of birth, though you will of course see that I was
+really in my ninth. In the next few years I made enough money to gild
+my mother's few declining years; and when I retired temporarily from
+the boards at the advice of my critics, it was of course with the
+intention of studying and returning to the stage when I was younger.
+And so I advanced to manhood, skipping the alternate years. I rejoice
+to say that my mother, though she died when I was seventy-three, had
+the satisfaction of knowing what felicity her unselfish aspiration had
+brought into my life. She told me of my strange exemption from the
+common burden of continuous existence, as soon as I had skipped into
+years of discretion. Not for me did Time pass with that tragic
+footstep which never returns on itself; for me he was not the
+irrevocable, the relentless. I regretted my lost youth--but it was not
+with hopeless, passionate tears, with mutinous yearnings after the
+impossible; it was as one who waves a regretful adieu to a charming
+girl he will meet again."
+
+"Ah! but you will not meet her again," I said softly.
+
+"No; but the feeling was the same. Of course, when I was thirty I did
+not know I should die before I was two. I had no more privilege of
+prescience than the ordinary mortal. But in everything else how
+enviable was my lot compared to his whom every day is sweeping towards
+Death, for whom no vision of renewed youth gleams behind the black
+hangings! Oh! the glory of growing old without dread, with the
+assurance that age, which is ripening you, is not ripening you for the
+Gleaner, that the years will add wisdom without eternally subtracting
+the capacity for joy, and that every tottering step is bringing you
+nearer, not the Grave, but the joyous resurrection of your youth!"
+
+"And you have experienced that?" I cried, with envious incredulity.
+
+"Yes," answered the baby solemnly. "Of course I prepared for the Great
+Change. Not that Nature did not herself smooth the metamorphosis. The
+loss of teeth, the gradual baldness, the feeble limbs, everything
+pointed to the proximity of my Second Childhood. I knew that my odd
+life had not much longer to run, that at any moment the transformation
+might take place and the even numbers begin. Giving out that I was
+going to explore the African deserts, and accompanied only by my
+faithful body-servant, Downton, I retired to Egypt to await the great
+event, having previously ordered baby-linen and the various requisites
+of infantile toilette. I had at one time meditated providing myself
+with parents, but ultimately concluded that they would prove too
+troublesome to manage, and that it would be better to trust myself
+entirely to the management of Downton, since I had already placed
+myself in his power by leaving him all my money."
+
+"But what necessity was there for that?" I enquired.
+
+"Every necessity," he replied gravely. "Do you not see that I had to
+arrange all my affairs and make my will before being born again,
+because afterwards I should not be of legal age for ten years. At
+first I thought of leaving all my money to myself and passing as my
+own child, but there would have been difficulties. I was unmarried and
+seventy-seven. Downton could easily pretend his septuagenarian master
+had died in the African deserts, but he could not so easily patch up a
+marriage there. I had no option, therefore, but to make Downton my
+heir, and I have never had occasion to regret it from the day of my
+rebirth to this, the day of my death. As soon as I was born we
+returned to England, and I wrote my obituary and drove to the Press
+Association with it. Downton took it into the office while I waited in
+Fleet Street in the hansom. I can scarcely hope to convey to you an
+idea of the intensity and agreeableness of my sensations at this
+unprecedented epoch. The variegated life of Fleet Street gave
+me the keenest joy: every sight and every sound--beautiful or
+sordid--thrilled my nerves to rapture. I was interested in everything.
+Imagine the delicious freshness of one's second year supervening upon
+the jaded sensibilities of seventy-seven. All my wide and varied
+knowledge of life lay in my soul as before, but transfigured. Over my
+large experience of men and things was shed a stream of sunshine which
+irradiated everything with divine light; every streak of cynicism
+faded. I had the wisdom of an old man and the heart of a little child.
+I believed in man again, and even in woman. I shed tears of pure
+ecstasy; and when I heard a female of the lower classes say: 'Poor
+little thing! What a shame to leave it crying in a cab!' I laughed
+aloud in glee. She exclaimed: 'Ah! now it's laughing, my
+petsy-wootsy!' Her conversation saddened me again, and I was glad I
+had not burdened myself with a mother, and that I took my milk from a
+bottle instead of a doting nurse. And how exquisite was this same
+apparently monotonous menu of milk to an epicurean who had ruined his
+digestion! I felt I was recuperating on a vegetarian diet, and I
+rejoiced to think some years must elapse before I would care for
+champagne or re-acquire a taste for full-flavoured Manillas. Perhaps
+somewhat unreasonably, I was proud of my strength of will, which had
+enabled me in one day to abandon tobacco without a pang, and
+seven-course dinners without repining. I slept a good deal, too, at
+this period, whereas I had previously been greatly exercised by
+insomnia. But these joys of the senses were as nothing to the joys of
+the intellect. An exquisite curiosity played like a sea-breeze about
+my long-stagnant soul. All my early interests revived; worldly
+propositions I had thought settled showed themselves unstable and
+volant; everything was shaken by the moving spirit of youth. Theology,
+poetry, and even metaphysics became alive; all sorts of unpractical
+questions became suddenly burning. I saw in myself the seeds of a
+great thinker: a felicitous congruity of opposite capacities that had
+never before met in a single man--the sobriety of age tempered by the
+audacity of youth, fire and water, judgment and inspiration. I was
+revolutionist and reactionary in one. I read all the new books, and
+agreed with all the old."
+
+"All you tell me only makes the pathos of your premature death more
+intolerable," I said in moved accents. "You are, like Keats and
+Chatterton,--only an earlier edition,--an inheritor of unfulfilled
+renown."
+
+The little blue eyes smiled wistfully at me.
+
+"Not at all," said the wee rose-lips, with a quiver. "Don't you see, I
+have already dodged Death? Evidently, if I had taken my second year in
+its natural order, I should have been cut short by croup at the
+outset. Apparently I had enough vital energy in me to have lasted till
+seventy-seven, if I could only get over the croup. I think one ought
+to be satisfied with having survived himself by thirty odd years."
+
+"Yes, if you put it like that, the pathos lightens," I admitted. "Of
+course I saw from the first that you were considerably in advance of
+your age. Did you assure your life?" I asked, with a sudden thought.
+
+"I did; but by an oversight I let the policy be invalidated by my
+imaginary expedition to the African deserts. Downton has, however,
+taken out a fresh policy for my new life."
+
+"What a baffling complex of probabilities would be added to Life
+Assurances if your way of living were to become general!" I observed.
+"Downton will probably more than recoup himself for his first loss.
+Have you always been a bachelor, by the way?" I asked.
+
+"Yes," said the baby, with a sigh. "I missed marriage; it probably
+fell in an even year."
+
+"Poor child!" I cried, my eyes growing humid again. To think, too, of
+that beautiful young girl, that fond wife, waiting for him who would
+never come; that innocent maiden cheated of love and happiness because
+her appointed husband had not lived in the other alternate series of
+years,--to think of this tangled tragedy moved me to fresh tears, not
+a few of which were for the husband who never was.
+
+"Nay, do not pity me," said the baby, and his tones were hushed and
+low, and in his heavenly blue eyes I seemed to read the high sorrowful
+wisdom of the ages; "for, since I have lain here on this bed of
+sickness with no spectacular whirl to claim my thoughts, with four
+walls for my horizon, and the agony of death in my throat, the darker
+side of my dual existence has been borne in upon me. I see the shadow
+cast by the sunshine of my privilege of double birth; I see the curse
+which is the obverse of the blessing my mother's prayers brought me; I
+see myself dissipating a youth which I knew would recur, throwing away
+a manhood which I knew would come again, and sinking into a sensual
+senility which I knew would pass into an innocent infancy. I see
+myself rejecting the best gifts and the highest duties of To-Day for
+the illusory felicities and the far-away virtues of the
+Day-After-To-Morrow. I see myself passing by Love with the reflection
+that I should be passing again; putting off Purity with the thought
+that I should be round that way presently; and waving to Duty an
+amicable salute of 'Expect me soon.' And in this moment of clear
+vision I see not only my past, I realise what my future would be if I
+lived. I see the influx of fresh feeling gradually exhausted,
+overcome, ousted, and finally replaced by a satiety more horrible than
+that of the septuagenarian, as I came to realise that life for me held
+no surprises, no lures to curiosity, that the future was no enchanted
+realm of mysterious possibilities, that the white clouds revealed no
+seraph shapes on the horizon, that Hope did not stand like a veiled
+bride with beckoning finger, that fairies were not lurking round every
+corner nor magic palaces waiting to start up at every turn. I see life
+stretching before me like old ground I had been over--in my mother's
+image like a street one side of which I had walked down. What could
+the other offer of fresh, of delightful? It is so rarely one side
+differs from the other: a church for a public-house, a grocer's
+instead of a bookshop. Conceive the horror of foreknowledge: of having
+no sensations to learn and few new emotions to feel; to have,
+moreover, the enthusiasm of youth sicklied over with the prescience of
+senile cynicism, and the healthy vigour of manhood made flaccid by
+anticipations of the dodderings of age! I foresee the ever-growing
+dismay at the leaps and bounds with which my youth was fleeting. I see
+myself, instead of profiting by my experience, feverishly clutching at
+every pleasure on my path, as a drowning man, borne along by a
+torrent, snatches at every scrap of flotsam and jetsam. I see manhood
+arrive only to pass away, as an express passes through a petty
+station, full speed for the terminus. I see a panic terror close upon
+me with every hurrying year at the knowledge that my hours were thirty
+minutes and my months virtually fortnights, and that I was leading the
+fastest life on record. Add to this the anguish of feeling myself torn
+from the bosom of the wife I loved and hurried away from the embraces
+of the children whose careers it would be my solicitude to watch over.
+Imagine the agony if I had been cruelly spared to my seventy-eighth
+year--the agony of a condemned criminal who does not know on what day
+he is to be execu--"
+
+[Illustration: "THE ENTHUSIASM OF YOUTH SICKLIED OVER WITH THE
+PRESCIENCE OF SENILE CYNICISM."]
+
+His voice failed suddenly. He had slightly raised himself on his
+pillow in his excitement, but now his head fell back, revealing the
+fatal white patches on the baby throat. I seized his hand quickly to
+feel his pulse. The little palm lay cold in mine. I started violently
+and sat up rigidly in my chair.
+
+The child was dead. Downton was sobbing at my side.
+
+As I was writing out the certificate, an odd thought came into my
+head. I scribbled what I thought an appropriate epitaph and showed it
+to Downton, but he glared at me furiously. I hastened home to bed.
+
+My epitaph ran:
+
+              HERE LIES
+    WILLIAM ("WILLY") STREETSIDE,
+        WHO LED A DOUBLE LIFE,
+      AND DIED IN BLAMELESS REPUTE,
+          AT THE AVERAGE AGE
+            OF 39 YEARS.
+
+    "_And in their death they were not divided._"
+
+
+
+
+_Cheating the Gallows._
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+A CURIOUS COUPLE.
+
+They say that a union of opposites makes the happiest marriage, and
+perhaps it is on the same principle that men who chum together are
+always so oddly assorted. You shall find a man of letters sharing
+diggings with an auctioneer, and a medical student pigging with a
+stockbroker's clerk. Perhaps each thus escapes the temptation to talk
+"shop" in his hours of leisure, while he supplements his own
+experiences of life by his companion's.
+
+There could not be an odder couple than Tom Peters and Everard G.
+Roxdal--the contrast began with their names, and ran through the
+entire chapter. They had a bedroom and a sitting-room in common, but
+it would not be easy to find what else. To his landlady, worthy Mrs.
+Seacon, Tom Peters's profession was a little vague, but everybody knew
+that Roxdal was the manager of the City and Suburban Bank, and it
+puzzled her to think why a bank manager should live with such
+a seedy-looking person, who smoked clay pipes and sipped
+whisky-and-water all the evening when he was at home. For Roxdal was
+as spruce and erect as his fellow-lodger was round-shouldered and
+shabby; he never smoked, and he confined himself to a small glass of
+claret at dinner.
+
+[Illustration: TOM PETERS.]
+
+[Illustration: EVERARD G. ROXDAL.]
+
+It is possible to live with a man and see very little of him. Where
+each of the partners lives his own life in his own way, with his own
+circle of friends and external amusements, days may go by without the
+men having five minutes together. Perhaps this explains why these
+partnerships jog along so much more peaceably than marriages, where
+the chain is drawn so much tighter, and galls the partners rather than
+links them. Diverse, however, as were the hours and habits of the
+chums, they often breakfasted together, and they agreed in one
+thing--they never stayed out at night. For the rest Peters sought his
+diversions in the company of journalists, and frequented debating
+rooms, where he propounded the most iconoclastic views; while Roxdal
+had highly respectable houses open to him in the suburbs, and was, in
+fact, engaged to be married to Clara Newell, the charming daughter of
+a retired corn factor, a widower with no other child.
+
+[Illustration: ASKED TWENTY-FIVE PER CENT MORE.]
+
+Clara naturally took up a good deal of Roxdal's time, and he often
+dressed to go to the play with her, while Peters stayed at home in a
+faded dressing-gown and loose slippers. Mrs. Seacon liked to see
+gentlemen about the house in evening dress, and made comparisons not
+favourable to Peters. And this in spite of the fact that he gave her
+infinitely less trouble than the younger man. It was Peters who first
+took the apartments, and it was characteristic of his easy-going
+temperament that he was so openly and naively delighted with the view
+of the Thames obtainable from the bedroom window, that Mrs. Seacon was
+emboldened to ask twenty-five per cent more than she had intended. She
+soon returned to her normal terms, however, when his friend Roxdal
+called the next day to inspect the rooms, and overwhelmed her with a
+demonstration of their numerous shortcomings. He pointed out that
+their being on the ground floor was not an advantage, but a
+disadvantage, since they were nearer the noises of the street--in
+fact, the house being a corner one, the noises of two streets. Roxdal
+continued to exhibit the same finicking temperament in the petty
+details of the _menage_. His shirt fronts were never sufficiently
+starched, nor his boots sufficiently polished. Tom Peters, having no
+regard for rigid linen, was always good-tempered and satisfied, and
+never acquired the respect of his landlady. He wore blue check shirts
+and loose ties even on Sundays. It is true he did not go to church,
+but slept on till Roxdal returned from morning service, and even then
+it was difficult to get him out of bed, or to make him hurry up his
+toilette operations. Often the mid-day meal would be smoking on the
+table while Peters would be still reading in bed, and Roxdal, with his
+head thrust through the folding-doors that separated the bedroom from
+the sitting-room, would be adjuring the sluggard to arise and shake
+off his slumbers, and threatening to sit down without him, lest the
+dinner be spoilt. In revenge, Tom was usually up first on week-days,
+sometimes at such unearthly hours that Polly had not yet removed the
+boots from outside the bedroom door, and would bawl down to the
+kitchen for his shaving-water. For Tom, lazy and indolent as he was,
+shaved with the unfailing regularity of a man to whom shaving has
+become an instinct. If he had not kept fairly regular hours, Mrs.
+Seacon would have set him down as an actor, so clean shaven was he.
+Roxdal did not shave. He wore a full beard, and, being a fine figure
+of a man to boot, no uneasy investor could look upon him without being
+reassured as to the stability of the bank he managed so successfully.
+And thus the two men lived in an economical comradeship, all the
+firmer, perhaps, for their mutual incongruities.
+
+[Illustration: "FOR HIS SHAVING-WATER."]
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A WOMAN'S INSTINCT.
+
+It was on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of October, ten days after
+Roxdal had settled in his new rooms, that Clara Newell paid her first
+visit to him there. She enjoyed a good deal of liberty, and did not
+mind accepting his invitation to tea. The corn factor, himself
+indifferently educated, had an exaggerated sense of the value of
+culture, and so Clara, who had artistic tastes without much actual
+talent, had gone in for painting, and might be seen, in pretty
+toilettes, copying pictures in the Museum. At one time it looked as if
+she might be reduced to working seriously at her art, for Satan, who
+finds mischief still for idle hands to do, had persuaded her father to
+embark the fruits of years of toil in bubble companies. However,
+things turned out not so bad as they might have been, a little was
+saved from the wreck, and the appearance of a suitor, in the person of
+Everard G. Roxdal, ensured her a future of competence, if not of the
+luxury she had been entitled to expect. She had a good deal of
+affection for Everard, who was unmistakably a clever man, as well as a
+good-looking one. The prospect seemed fair and cloudless. Nothing
+presaged the terrible storm that was about to break over these two
+lives. Nothing had ever for a moment come to vex their mutual
+contentment, till this Sunday afternoon. The October sky, blue and
+sunny, with an Indian summer sultriness, seemed an exact image of her
+life, with its aftermath of a happiness that had once seemed blighted.
+
+Everard had always been so attentive, so solicitous, that she was as
+much surprised as chagrined to find that he had apparently forgotten
+the appointment. Hearing her astonished interrogation of Polly in the
+passage, Tom shambled from the sitting-room in his loose slippers and
+his blue check shirt, with his eternal clay pipe in his mouth, and
+informed her that Roxdal had gone out suddenly earlier in the
+afternoon.
+
+[Illustration: "TOM SHAMBLED FROM THE SITTING-ROOM."]
+
+"G-g-one out?" stammered poor Clara, all confused. "But he asked me to
+come to tea."
+
+"Oh, you're Miss Newell, I suppose," said Tom.
+
+"Yes, I am Miss Newell."
+
+"He has told me a great deal about you, but I wasn't able honestly to
+congratulate him on his choice till now."
+
+Clara blushed uneasily under the compliment, and under the ardour of
+his admiring gaze. Instinctively she distrusted the man. The very
+first tones of his deep bass voice gave her a peculiar shudder. And
+then his impoliteness in smoking that vile clay was so gratuitous.
+
+"Oh, then you must be Mr. Peters," she said in return. "He has often
+spoken to me of you."
+
+"Ah!" said Tom laughingly, "I suppose he's told you all my vices. That
+accounts for your not being surprised at my Sunday attire."
+
+She smiled a little, showing a row of pearly teeth. "Everard ascribes
+to you all the virtues," she said.
+
+"Now that's what I call a friend!" he cried ecstatically. "But won't
+you come in? He must be back in a moment. He surely would not break an
+appointment with _you_." The admiration latent in the accentuation of
+the last pronoun was almost offensive.
+
+She shook her head. She had a just grievance against Everard, and
+would punish him by going away indignantly.
+
+"Do let _me_ give you a cup of tea," Tom pleaded. "You must be
+awfully thirsty this sultry weather. There! I will make a bargain with
+you! If you will come in now, I promise to clear out the moment
+Everard returns, and not spoil your _tete-a-tete_." But Clara was
+obstinate; she did not at all relish this man's society, and besides,
+she was not going to throw away her grievance against Everard. "I know
+Everard will slang me dreadfully when he comes in if I let you go,"
+Tom urged. "Tell me at least where he can find you."
+
+"I am going to take the 'bus at Charing Cross, and I'm going straight
+home," Clara announced determinedly. She put up her parasol in a pet,
+and went up the street into the Strand. A cold shadow seemed to have
+fallen over all things. But just as she was getting into the 'bus, a
+hansom dashed down Trafalgar Square, and a well-known voice hailed
+her. The hansom stopped, and Everard got out and held out his hand.
+
+"I'm so glad you're a bit late," he said. "I was called out
+unexpectedly, and have been trying to rush back in time. You wouldn't
+have found me if you had been punctual. But I thought," he added,
+laughing, "I could rely on you as a woman."
+
+"I _was_ punctual," Clara said angrily. "I was not getting out of this
+'bus, as you seem to imagine, but into it, and was going home."
+
+"My darling!" he cried remorsefully. "A thousand apologies." The
+regret on his handsome face soothed her. He took the rose he was
+wearing in the buttonhole of his fashionably cut coat and gave it to
+her.
+
+"Why were you so cruel?" he murmured, as she nestled against him in
+the hansom. "Think of my despair if I had come home to hear you had
+come and gone. Why didn't you wait a moment?"
+
+[Illustration: "SHE NESTLED AGAINST HIM."]
+
+A shudder traversed her frame. "Not with that man, Peters!" she
+murmured.
+
+"Not with that man, Peters!" he echoed sharply. "What is the matter
+with Peters?"
+
+"I don't know," she said. "I don't like him."
+
+"Clara," he said, half sternly, half cajolingly, "I thought you were
+above these feminine weaknesses; you are punctual, strive also to be
+reasonable. Tom is my best friend. From boyhood we have been always
+together. There is nothing Tom would not do for me, or I for Tom. You
+must like him, Clara; you must, if only for my sake."
+
+"I'll try," Clara promised, and then he kissed her in gratitude and
+broad daylight.
+
+"You'll be very nice to him at tea, won't you?" he said anxiously. "I
+shouldn't like you two to be bad friends."
+
+"I don't want to be bad friends," Clara protested; "only the moment I
+saw him a strange repulsion and mistrust came over me."
+
+"You are quite wrong about him--quite wrong," he assured her
+earnestly. "When you know him better, you'll find him the best of
+fellows. Oh, I know," he said suddenly, "I suppose he was very untidy,
+and you women go so much by appearances!"
+
+"Not at all," Clara retorted. "'Tis you men who go by appearances."
+
+"Yes, you do. That's why you care for me," he said, smiling.
+
+She assured him it wasn't, and she didn't care for him so much as he
+plumed himself, but he smiled on. His smile died away, however, when
+he entered his rooms and found Tom nowhere.
+
+"I daresay you've made him run about hunting for me," he grumbled.
+
+"Perhaps he knew I'd come back, and went away to leave us together,"
+she answered. "He said he would when you came."
+
+"And yet you say you don't like him!"
+
+She smiled reassuringly. Inwardly, however, she felt pleased at the
+man's absence.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+POLLY RECEIVES A PROPOSAL.
+
+If Clara Newell could have seen Tom Peters carrying on with Polly in
+the passage, she might have felt justified in her prejudice against
+him. It must be confessed, though, that Everard also carried on with
+Polly. Alas! it is to be feared that men are much of a muchness where
+women are concerned; shabby men and smart men, bank managers and
+journalists, bachelors and semi-detached bachelors. Perhaps it was a
+mistake after all to say the chums had nothing patently in common.
+Everard, I am afraid, kissed Polly rather more often than Clara, and
+although it was because he respected her less, the reason would
+perhaps not have been sufficiently consoling to his affianced wife.
+For Polly was pretty, especially on alternate Sunday afternoons, and
+she liked to receive the homage of real gentlemen, setting her white
+cap at all indifferently. Thus, just before Clara knocked on that
+memorable Sunday afternoon, Polly, being confined to the house by the
+unwritten code regulating the lives of servants, was amusing herself
+by flirting with Peters.
+
+[Illustration: "CARRYING ON WITH POLLY."]
+
+"You _are_ fond of me a little bit," the graceless Tom whispered,
+"aren't you?"
+
+"You know I am, sir," Polly replied.
+
+"You don't care for anyone else in the house?"
+
+"Oh no, sir. I wonder how it is, sir?" Polly replied ingenuously.
+
+And that very evening, when Clara was gone and Tom still out, Polly
+turned without the faintest atom of scrupulosity, or even jealousy, to
+the more fascinating Roxdal. If it would seem at first sight that
+Everard had less excuse for such frivolity than his friend, perhaps
+the seriousness he showed in this interview may throw a different
+light upon the complex character of the man.
+
+"You're quite sure you don't care for anyone but me?" he asked
+earnestly.
+
+"Of course not, sir!" Polly replied indignantly. "How could I?"
+
+"But you care for that soldier I saw you out with last Sunday?"
+
+"Oh no, sir, he's only my young man," she said apologetically.
+
+"Would you give him up?" he hissed suddenly.
+
+Polly's pretty face took a look of terror. "I couldn't, sir! He'd kill
+me! He's such a jealous brute, you've no idea."
+
+"Yes, but suppose I took you away from here?" he whispered eagerly.
+"Somewhere where he couldn't find you--South America, Africa,
+somewhere thousands of miles across the seas."
+
+"Oh, sir, you frighten me!" whispered Polly, cowering before his
+ardent eyes, which shone in the dimly lit passage.
+
+"Would you come with me?" he hissed. She did not answer; she shook
+herself free and ran into the kitchen, trembling with a vague fear.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+THE CRASH.
+
+One morning, earlier than his earliest hour of demanding his
+shaving-water, Tom rang the bell violently and asked the alarmed Polly
+what had become of Mr. Roxdal.
+
+"How should I know, sir?" she gasped. "Ain't he been in, sir?"
+
+"Apparently not," Tom answered anxiously. "He never remains out. We
+have been here three weeks now, and I can't recall a single night he
+hasn't been home before twelve. I can't make it out." All enquiries
+proved futile. Mrs. Seacon reminded him of the thick fog that had come
+on suddenly the night before.
+
+"What fog?" asked Tom.
+
+"Lord! didn't you notice it, sir?"
+
+"No, I came in early, smoked, read, and went to bed about eleven. I
+never thought of looking out of the window."
+
+"It began about ten," said Mrs. Seacon, "and got thicker and thicker.
+I couldn't see the lights of the river from my bedroom. The poor
+gentleman has been and gone and walked into the water." She began to
+whimper.
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense," said Tom, though his expression belied his
+words. "At the worst I should think he couldn't find his way home, and
+couldn't get a cab, so put up for the night at some hotel. I daresay
+it will be all right." He began to whistle as if in restored
+cheerfulness. At eight o'clock there came a letter for Roxdal, marked
+"immediate," but as he did not turn up for breakfast, Tom went round
+personally to the City and Suburban Bank. He waited half-an-hour
+there, but the manager did not make his appearance. Then he left the
+letter with the cashier and went away with anxious countenance.
+
+That afternoon it was all over London that the manager of the City and
+Suburban had disappeared, and that many thousand pounds of gold and
+notes had disappeared with him.
+
+Scotland Yard opened the letter marked "immediate," and noted that
+there had been a delay in its delivery, for the address had been
+obscure, and an official alteration had been made. It was written in a
+feminine hand and said: "On second thoughts I cannot accompany you. Do
+not try to see me again. Forget me. I shall never forget you."
+
+[Illustration: "SCOTLAND YARD OPENED THE LETTER."]
+
+There was no signature.
+
+Clara Newell, distracted, disclaimed all knowledge of this letter.
+Polly deposed that the fugitive had proposed flight to her, and the
+routes to Africa and South America were especially watched. Some
+months passed without result. Tom Peters went about overwhelmed with
+grief and astonishment. The police took possession of all the missing
+man's effects. Gradually the hue and cry dwindled, died.
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+FAITH AND UNFAITH.
+
+"At last we meet!" cried Tom Peters, while his face lit up in joy.
+"How _are_ you, dear Miss Newell?" Clara greeted him coldly. Her face
+had an abiding pallor now. Her lover's flight and shame had prostrated
+her for weeks. Her soul was the arena of contending instincts. Alone
+of all the world she still believed in Everard's innocence, felt that
+there was something more than met the eye, divined some devilish
+mystery behind it all. And yet that damning letter from the anonymous
+lady shook her sadly. Then, too, there was the deposition of Polly.
+When she heard Peters's voice accosting her all her old repugnance
+resurged. It flashed upon her that this man--Roxdal's boon
+companion--must know far more than he had told to the police. She
+remembered how Everard had spoken of him, with what affection and
+confidence! Was it likely he was utterly ignorant of Everard's
+movements? Mastering her repugnance, she held out her hand. It might
+be well to keep in touch with him; he was possibly the clue to the
+mystery. She noticed he was dressed a shade more trimly, and was
+smoking a meerschaum. He walked along at her side, making no offer to
+put his pipe out.
+
+"You have not heard from Everard?" he asked. She flushed. "Do you
+think I'm an accessory after the fact?" she cried.
+
+"No, no," he said soothingly. "Pardon me, I was thinking he might have
+written--giving no exact address, of course. Men do sometimes dare to
+write thus to women. But, of course, he knows you too well--you would
+have put the police on his track."
+
+"Certainly," she exclaimed indignantly. "Even if he is innocent he
+must face the charge."
+
+"Do you still entertain the possibility of his innocence?"
+
+"I do," she said boldly, and looked him full in the face. His eyelids
+drooped with a quiver. "Don't you?"
+
+"I have hoped against hope," he replied, in a voice faltering with
+emotion. "Poor old Everard! But I am afraid there is no room for
+doubt. Oh, this wicked curse of money--tempting the noblest and the
+best of us."
+
+The weeks rolled on. Gradually she found herself seeing more and more
+of Tom Peters, and gradually, strange to say, he grew less repulsive.
+From the talks they had together, she began to see that there was
+really no reason to put faith in Everard; his criminality, his
+faithlessness, were too flagrant. Gradually she grew ashamed of her
+early mistrust of Peters; remorse bred esteem, and esteem ultimately
+ripened into feelings so warm, that when Tom gave freer vent to the
+love that had been visible to Clara from the first, she did not
+repulse him.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE DID NOT REPULSE HIM."]
+
+It is only in books that love lives for ever. Clara, so her father
+thought, showed herself a sensible girl in plucking out an unworthy
+affection and casting it from her heart. He invited the new lover to
+his house, and took to him at once. Roxdal's somewhat supercilious
+manner had always jarred upon the unsophisticated corn factor. With
+Tom the old man got on much better. While evidently quite as well
+informed and cultured as his whilom friend, Tom knew how to impart his
+superior knowledge with the accent on the knowledge rather than on the
+superiority, while he had the air of gaining much information in
+return. Those who are most conscious of defects of early education are
+most resentful of other people sharing their consciousness. Moreover,
+Tom's _bonhomie_ was far more to the old fellow's liking than the
+studied politeness of his predecessor, so that on the whole Tom made
+more of a conquest of the father than of the daughter. Nevertheless,
+Clara was by no means unresponsive to Tom's affection, and when,
+after one of his visits to the house, the old man kissed her fondly
+and spoke of the happy turn things had taken, and how, for the second
+time in their lives, things had mended when they seemed at their
+blackest, her heart swelled with a gush of gratitude and joy and
+tenderness, and she fell sobbing into her father's arms.
+
+[Illustration: "WITH TOM THE OLD MAN GOT ON MUCH BETTER."]
+
+Tom calculated that he made a clear five hundred a year by occasional
+journalism, besides possessing some profitable investments which he
+had inherited from his mother, so that there was no reason for
+delaying the marriage. It was fixed for May-day, and the honeymoon was
+to be spent in Italy.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE DREAM AND THE AWAKENING.
+
+But Clara was not destined to happiness. From the moment she had
+promised herself to her first love's friend, old memories began to
+rise up and reproach her. Strange thoughts stirred in the depths of
+her soul, and in the silent watches of the night she seemed to hear
+Everard's accents, charged with grief and upbraiding. Her uneasiness
+increased as her wedding-day drew near. One night, after a pleasant
+afternoon spent in being rowed by Tom among the upper reaches of the
+Thames, she retired to rest full of vague forebodings. And she dreamt
+a terrible dream. The dripping form of Everard stood by her bedside,
+staring at her with ghastly eyes. Had he been drowned on the passage
+to his land of exile? Frozen with horror, she put the question.
+
+"I have never left England!" the vision answered.
+
+Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.
+
+"Never left England?" she repeated, in tones which did not seem to be
+hers.
+
+The wraith's stony eyes stared on, but there was silence.
+
+"Where have you been then?" she asked in her dream.
+
+"Very near you," came the answer.
+
+"There has been foul play then!" she shrieked.
+
+The phantom shook its head in doleful assent.
+
+"I knew it!" she shrieked. "Tom Peters--Tom Peters has done away with
+you. Is it not he? Speak!"
+
+"Yes, it is he--Tom Peters--whom I loved more than all the world."
+
+Even in the terrible oppression of the dream she could not resist
+saying, woman-like:
+
+"Did I not warn you against him?"
+
+The phantom stared on silently and made no reply.
+
+"But what was his motive?" she asked at length.
+
+"Love of gold--and you. And you are giving yourself to him," it said
+sternly.
+
+"No, no, Everard! I will not! I will not! I swear it! Forgive me!"
+
+The spirit shook its head sceptically.
+
+"You love him. Women are false--as false as men."
+
+She strove to protest again, but her tongue refused its office.
+
+"If you marry him, I shall always be with you! Beware!"
+
+[Illustration: "IDENTIFIED THE BODY."]
+
+The dripping figure vanished as suddenly as it came, and Clara awoke
+in a cold perspiration. Oh, it was horrible! The man she had learnt to
+love, the murderer of the man she had learnt to forget! How her
+original prejudice had been justified! Distracted, shaken to her
+depths, she would not take counsel even of her father, but informed
+the police of her suspicions. A raid was made on Tom's rooms, and lo!
+the stolen notes were discovered in a huge bundle. It was found that
+he had several banking accounts, with a large, recently deposited
+amount in each bank. Tom was arrested. Attention was now concentrated
+on the corpses washed up by the river. It was not long before the body
+of Roxdal came to shore, the face distorted almost beyond recognition
+by long immersion, but the clothes patently his, and a pocket-book in
+the breast-pocket removing the last doubt. Mrs. Seacon and Polly and
+Clara Newell all identified the body. Both juries returned a verdict
+of murder against Tom Peters, the recital of Clara's dream producing a
+unique impression in the court and throughout the country, especially
+in theological and theosophical circles. The theory of the prosecution
+was that Roxdal had brought home the money, whether to fly alone or
+to divide it, or whether, even for some innocent purpose, as Clara
+believed, was immaterial; that Peters determined to have it all, that
+he had gone out for a walk with the deceased, and, taking advantage of
+the fog, had pushed him into the river, and that he was further
+impelled to the crime by love for Clara Newell, as was evident from
+his subsequent relations with her. The judge put on the black cap. Tom
+Peters was duly hung by the neck till he was dead.
+
+[Illustration: THE CORPSE WASHED UP BY THE RIVER.]
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+BRIEF RESUME OF THE CULPRIT'S CONFESSION.
+
+When you all read this I shall be dead and laughing at you. I have
+been hung for my own murder. I am Everard G. Roxdal. I am also Tom
+Peters. We two were one. When I was a young man my moustache and beard
+wouldn't come. I bought false ones to improve my appearance. One day,
+after I had become manager of the City and Suburban Bank, I took off
+my beard and moustache at home, and then the thought crossed my mind
+that nobody would know me without them. I was another man. Instantly
+it flashed upon me that if I ran away from the Bank, that other man
+could be left in London, while the police were scouring the world for
+a non-existent fugitive. But this was only the crude germ of the idea.
+Slowly I matured my plan. The man who was going to be left in London
+must be known to a circle of acquaintance beforehand. It would be easy
+enough to masquerade in the evenings in my beardless condition, with
+other disguises of dress and voice. But this was not brilliant enough.
+I conceived the idea of living with him. It was Box and Cox reversed.
+We shared rooms at Mrs. Seacon's. It was a great strain, but it was
+only for a few weeks. I had trick clothes in my bedroom like those of
+quick-change artistes; in a moment I could pass from Roxdal to Peters
+and from Peters to Roxdal. Polly had to clean two pairs of boots a
+morning, cook two dinners, &c., &c. She and Mrs. Seacon saw one or the
+other of us every moment; it never dawned upon them they never saw us
+_both together_. At meals I would not be interrupted, ate off two
+plates, and conversed with my friend in loud tones. A slight
+ventriloquial gift enabled me to hold audible conversations with him
+when he was supposed to be in the bedroom. At other times we dined at
+different hours. On Sundays he was supposed to be asleep when I was in
+church. There is no landlady in the world to whom the idea would have
+occurred that one man was troubling himself to be two (and to pay for
+two, including washing). I worked up the idea of Roxdal's flight,
+asked Polly to go with me, manufactured that feminine letter that
+arrived on the morning of my disappearance. As Tom Peters I mixed with
+a journalistic set. I had another room where I kept the gold and notes
+till I mistakenly thought the thing had blown over. Unfortunately,
+returning from here on the night of my disappearance, with Roxdal's
+clothes in a bundle I intended to drop into the river, it was stolen
+from me in the fog, and the man into whose possession it ultimately
+came appears to have committed suicide, so that his body dressed in my
+clothes was taken for mine. What, perhaps, ruined me was my desire to
+keep Clara's love, and to transfer it to the survivor. Everard told
+her I was the best of fellows. Once married to her, I would not have
+had much fear. Even if she had discovered the trick, a wife cannot
+give evidence against her husband, and often does not want to. I made
+none of the usual slips, but no man can guard against a girl's
+nightmare after a day up the river and a supper at the Star and
+Garter. I might have told the judge he was an ass, but then I should
+have had penal servitude for bank robbery, and that is worse than
+death. The only thing that puzzles me, though, is whether the law has
+committed murder or I suicide. What is certain is that I have cheated
+the gallows.
+
+
+
+
+_Santa Claus._
+
+A STORY FOR THE NURSERY.
+
+
+Although Bob was asleep on the doorstep the children in the passage
+talked so loudly that they woke him up. They did not mean to do it,
+for they were nice, clean, handsome children. Bob was always pretty
+dirty, so nobody knew if he was pretty clean. He was not a dog, though
+you might think so from his name and the way he was treated. Nobody
+cared for Bob except Tommy whom he could fight one-hand. The lucky
+nice clean children had jam to lick, but Bob had only Tommy. Poor
+Tommy!
+
+Bob sat up on his stony doorstep, drawing his rags around him. His
+toes were freezing. When you have no boots it is awkward to stamp your
+feet. That is why they are so cold. Bob's idea of heaven was a place
+with a fire in it. He lived before Free Education and his ideas were
+mixed.
+
+Bob heard the children inside talking about Santa Claus and the
+presents they expected. Bob gathered that he was a kind-hearted old
+gentleman, and he thought to himself: "If I could find out Santa
+Claus's address, I'd go and arx 'im for some presents too." So he
+waited outside, shivering, till a pretty little girl and boy came out,
+when he said to them: "Please, can you tell me where Santa Claus
+lives?"
+
+The little girl and boy drew back when he spoke to them, because they
+had strict orders to keep their pinafores clean. But when they heard
+his strange question, they looked at each other with large eyes. Then
+their pretty faces filled with smiling sunshine, and they said: "He
+lives in the sky. He is a spirit."
+
+Bob's face fell. "Oh, then I carn't call upon 'im," he said. "But 'ow
+is it _I_ never gets no presents like I 'ears yer say _you_ does?"
+
+"Perhaps you are not a good child," said the little girl gravely.
+
+"Yes, look how you've torn your clothes," said the little boy
+reprovingly.
+
+"Well, but 'ow is _you_ goin' to get presents from the sky?"
+
+"We hang up our stockings to-night, just before Christmas, and in the
+night Santa Claus fills them," they explained, and just then the maid
+came out and led them away.
+
+Now Bob understood. He had never had any stockings in his life. He
+felt mad to think how much else he had missed through the want of a
+pair. If he could only get a pair of stockings to hang up, he might be
+a rich boy and dine off bread and treacle. He wandered through the
+courts and alleys looking for stockings in the gutters and dustbins.
+They were not there. Old boots were to be found in abundance though
+not in couples (which was odd); but Bob soon discovered that people
+never throw away their stockings. At last he plucked up courage and
+begged from house to house, but nobody had a pair to spare. What
+becomes of all the old stockings? Not everybody hoards treasure in
+them. Bob met plenty of kind hearts; they offered him bread when he
+asked for a stocking.
+
+At last, weary and footsore, he returned to his doorstep and pondered.
+He wondered if he could cheat Santa Claus by making a pair out of a
+piece of newspaper he had picked up. But perhaps Mr. Claus was
+particular about the material and admitted nothing under cotton. He
+thought of stepping deeply into the mud and caking a pair, but then he
+could only remove them at night by brushing them off in little pieces;
+he feared they would stick too tight to come off whole. He also
+thought of painting his calves with stripes from "wet paint," on the
+off chance that Mr. Claus would drop the presents carelessly down
+along his legs. But he concluded that if Mr. Claus lived in the sky he
+could look down and see all he was doing. So he began to cry instead.
+
+"What are you crying about?" said a quavering voice, and Bob,
+startled, became aware of a wretched old creature dining on the
+doorstep at his side.
+
+[Illustration: AN OLD WOMAN DINING ON THE DOORSTEP.]
+
+"I ain't got no stockings," he sobbed in answer.
+
+"Well, I'll give you mine," said his neighbour.
+
+Bob hesitated. The poor old woman looked so brokendown herself, it
+seemed mean to accept her offer.
+
+"Won't you be cold?" he asked timidly.
+
+"I shan't be warmer," mumbled the old woman. "But then you will."
+
+"No, I won't have them, thank you kindly, mum," said Bob stoutly.
+
+"Then I'll tell you what to do," said the old woman, who was really a
+fairy, though she had lost both wings--they had been amputated in a
+surgical operation. "It's easy enough to get stockings if you only
+know how. Run away now and pick out any person you meet and say, 'I
+wish that person's stockings were on my feet.' You can only wish once,
+so be careful, especially, not to wish for a pair of blue stockings,
+as they won't suit you."
+
+She grinned and vanished. Bob jumped up and was about to wish off
+the stockings of the first man he met, when a horrible thought struck
+him. The man had nice clothes and looked rich, but what proof was
+there he had stockings on? Bob really could not afford to risk wasting
+his wish. He walked about and looked at all the people--the men with
+their long trousers, the women with their trailing skirts; and the
+more he walked, the more grew his doubt and his agony. A terrible
+scepticism of humanity seized him. They looked very prim and demure
+without, these men and women, with their varnished boots and their
+satin gowns, but what if they were all hypocrites, walking about
+without stockings! Night came on. Half distracted by distrust of his
+kind, he wandered on to the docks, and there to his joy he saw people
+coming off a steamer by a narrow plank. As they walked the ladies
+lifted up their skirts so as not to tumble over them, and he caught
+several glimpses of dainty stockings. At last he selected a lady with
+very broad stockings, that looked as if they would hold lots of Mr.
+Claus's presents, and wished. Instantly he felt very funny about the
+feet, and the lady wobbled about so in her big boots that she
+overbalanced herself and fell into the water and was drowned.
+
+Bob ran back to his doorstep, and when it was dark slipped off his
+stockings carefully and hung them up on the knocker. And--sure
+enough!--in the morning they were fall of fine cigars and Spanish
+lace. Bob sold the lace for a penny, but he kept the cigars and smoked
+the first with his penn'uth of Christmas plum-duff.
+
+_Moral_:--England expects every man to pay his duty.
+
+
+
+
+_A Rose of the Ghetto._
+
+
+One day it occurred to Leibel that he ought to get married. He went to
+Sugarman the Shadchan forthwith.
+
+"I have the very thing for you," said the great marriage-broker.
+
+"Is she pretty?" asked Leibel.
+
+"Her father has a boot and shoe warehouse," replied Sugarman
+enthusiastically.
+
+"Then there ought to be a dowry with her," said Leibel eagerly.
+
+"Certainly a dowry! A fine man like you!"
+
+"How much do you think it would be?"
+
+"Of course it is not a large warehouse; but then you could get your
+boots at trade price, and your wife's, perhaps, for the cost of the
+leather."
+
+"When could I see her?"
+
+"I will arrange for you to call next Sabbath afternoon."
+
+"You won't charge me more than a sovereign?"
+
+"Not a _groschen_ more! Such a pious maiden! I'm sure you will be
+happy. She has so much way-of-the-country [breeding]. And, of course,
+five per cent on the dowry?"
+
+"H'm! Well, I don't mind!" "Perhaps they won't give a dowry," he
+thought, with a consolatory sense of outwitting the Shadchan.
+
+On the Saturday Leibel went to see the damsel, and on the Sunday he
+went to see Sugarman the Shadchan.
+
+"But your maiden squints!" he cried resentfully.
+
+"An excellent thing!" said Sugarman. "A wife who squints can never
+look her husband straight in the face and overwhelm him. Who would
+quail before a woman with a squint?"
+
+"I could endure the squint," went on Leibel dubiously, "but she also
+stammers."
+
+"Well, what is better, in the event of a quarrel? The difficulty she
+has in talking will keep her far more silent than most wives. You had
+best secure her while you have the chance."
+
+"But she halts on the left leg," cried Leibel, exasperated.
+
+"_Gott in Himmel!_ Do you mean to say you do not see what an advantage
+it is to have a wife unable to accompany you in all your goings?"
+
+Leibel lost patience.
+
+"Why, the girl is a hunchback!" he protested furiously.
+
+"My dear Leibel," said the marriage-broker, deprecatingly shrugging
+his shoulders and spreading out his palms. "You can't expect
+perfection!"
+
+Nevertheless, Leibel persisted in his unreasonable attitude. He
+accused Sugarman of wasting his time, of making a fool of him.
+
+"A fool of you!" echoed the Shadchan indignantly, "when I give you a
+chance of a boot and shoe manufacturer's daughter. You will make a
+fool of yourself if you refuse. I daresay her dowry would be enough to
+set you up as a master-tailor. At present you are compelled to slave
+away as a cutter for thirty shillings a week. It is most unjust. If
+you only had a few machines you would be able to employ your own
+cutters. And they can be got so cheap nowadays."
+
+This gave Leibel pause, and he departed without having definitely
+broken the negotiations. His whole week was befogged by doubt, his
+work became uncertain, his chalk-marks lacked their usual decision,
+and he did not always cut his coat according to his cloth. His
+aberrations became so marked that pretty Rose Green, the sweater's
+eldest daughter, who managed a machine in the same room, divined, with
+all a woman's intuition, that he was in love.
+
+"What is the matter?" she said in rallying Yiddish, when they were
+taking their lunch of bread and cheese and ginger-beer, amid the
+clatter of machines, whose serfs had not yet knocked off work.
+
+"They are proposing me a match," he answered sullenly.
+
+"A match!" ejaculated Rose. "Thou!" She had worked by his side for
+years, and familiarity bred the second person singular. Leibel nodded
+his head, and put a mouthful of Dutch cheese into it.
+
+"With whom?" asked Rose. Somehow he felt ashamed. He gurgled the
+answer into the stone ginger-beer bottle, which he put to his thirsty
+lips.
+
+"With Leah Volcovitch!"
+
+"Leah Volcovitch!" gasped Rose. "Leah, the boot and shoe
+manufacturer's daughter?"
+
+Leibel hung his head--he scarce knew why. He did not dare meet her
+gaze. His droop said "Yes." There was a long pause.
+
+"And why dost thou not have her?" said Rose. It was more than an
+enquiry. There was contempt in it, and perhaps even pique.
+
+Leibel did not reply. The embarrassing silence reigned again, and
+reigned long. Rose broke it at last.
+
+"Is it that thou likest me better?" she asked.
+
+Leibel seemed to see a ball of lightning in the air; it burst, and he
+felt the electric current strike right through his heart. The shock
+threw his head up with a jerk, so that his eyes gazed into a face
+whose beauty and tenderness were revealed to him for the first time.
+The face of his old acquaintance had vanished--this was a cajoling,
+coquettish, smiling face, suggesting undreamed-of things.
+
+"_Nu_, yes," he replied, without perceptible pause.
+
+"_Nu_, good!" she rejoined as quickly.
+
+And in the ecstasy of that moment of mutual understanding Leibel
+forgot to wonder why he had never thought of Rose before. Afterwards
+he remembered that she had always been his social superior.
+
+The situation seemed too dreamlike for explanation to the room just
+yet. Leibel lovingly passed the bottle of ginger-beer and Rose took a
+sip, with a beautiful air of plighting troth, understood only of those
+two. When Leibel quaffed the remnant it intoxicated him. The relics of
+the bread and cheese were the ambrosia to this nectar. They did not
+dare kiss--the suddenness of it all left them bashful, and the smack
+of lips would have been like a cannon-peal announcing their
+engagement. There was a subtler sweetness in this sense of a secret,
+apart from the fact that neither cared to break the news to the
+master-tailor--a stern little old man. Leibel's chalk-marks continued
+indecisive that afternoon; which shows how correctly Rose had
+connected them with love.
+
+Before he left that night Rose said to him: "Art thou sure thou
+wouldst not rather have Leah Volcovitch?"
+
+"Not for all the boots and shoes in the world," replied Leibel
+vehemently.
+
+"And I," protested Rose, "would rather go without my own than without
+thee."
+
+The landing outside the workshop was so badly lighted that their lips
+came together in the darkness.
+
+"Nay, nay, thou must not yet," said Rose. "Thou art still courting
+Leah Volcovitch. For aught thou knowest, Sugarman the Shadchan may
+have entangled thee beyond redemption."
+
+"Not so," asserted Leibel. "I have only seen the maiden once."
+
+"Yes. But Sugarman has seen her father several times," persisted Rose.
+"For so misshapen a maiden his commission would be large. Thou must go
+to Sugarman to-night, and tell him that thou canst not find it in thy
+heart to go on with the match."
+
+"Kiss me, and I will go," pleaded Leibel.
+
+"Go, and I will kiss thee," said Rose resolutely.
+
+"And when shall we tell thy father?" he asked, pressing her hand, as
+the next best thing to her lips.
+
+"As soon as thou art free from Leah."
+
+"But will he consent?"
+
+"He will not be glad," said Rose frankly. "But after mother's
+death--peace be upon her--the rule passed from her hands into mine."
+
+"Ah, that is well," said Leibel. He was a superficial thinker.
+
+Leibel found Sugarman at supper. The great Shadchan offered him a
+chair, but nothing else. Hospitality was associated in his mind with
+special occasions only, and involved lemonade and "stuffed monkeys."
+
+He was very put out--almost to the point of indigestion--to hear of
+Leibel's final determination, and plied him with reproachful
+enquiries.
+
+"You don't mean to say that you give up a boot and shoe manufacturer
+merely because his daughter has round shoulders!" he exclaimed
+incredulously.
+
+"It is more than round shoulders--it is a hump!" cried Leibel.
+
+"And suppose? See how much better off you will be when you get your
+own machines! We do not refuse to let camels carry our burdens because
+they have humps."
+
+"Ah, but a wife is not a camel," said Leibel, with a sage air.
+
+"And a cutter is not a master-tailor," retorted Sugarman.
+
+"Enough, enough!" cried Leibel. "I tell you I would not have her if
+she were a machine warehouse."
+
+"There sticks something behind," persisted Sugarman, unconvinced.
+
+Leibel shook his head. "Only her hump," he said, with a flash of
+humour.
+
+"Moses Mendelssohn had a hump," expostulated Sugarman reproachfully.
+
+"Yes, but he was a heretic," rejoined Leibel, who was not without
+reading. "And then he was a man! A man with two humps could find a
+wife for each. But a woman with a hump cannot expect a husband in
+addition."
+
+"Guard your tongue from evil," quoth the Shadchan angrily. "If
+everybody were to talk like you, Leah Volcovitch would never be
+married at all."
+
+Leibel shrugged his shoulders, and reminded him that hunchbacked girls
+who stammered and squinted and halted on left legs were not usually
+led under the canopy.
+
+"Nonsense! Stuff!" cried Sugarman angrily. "That is because they do
+not come to me."
+
+"Leah Volcovitch _has_ come to you," said Leibel, "but she shall not
+come to me." And he rose, anxious to escape.
+
+Instantly Sugarman gave a sigh of resignation. "Be it so! Then I shall
+have to look out for another, that's all."
+
+"No, I don't want any," replied Leibel quickly.
+
+Sugarman stopped eating. "You don't want any?" he cried. "But you came
+to me for one?"
+
+"I--I--know," stammered Leibel. "But I've--I've altered my mind."
+
+"One needs Hillel's patience to deal with you!" cried Sugarman. "But I
+shall charge you all the same for my trouble. You cannot cancel an
+order like this in the middle! No, no! You can play fast and loose
+with Leah Volcovitch. But you shall not make a fool of me."
+
+"But if I don't want one?" said Leibel sullenly.
+
+Sugarman gazed at him with a cunning look of suspicion. "Didn't I say
+there was something sticking behind?"
+
+Leibel felt guilty. "But whom have you got in your eye?" he enquired
+desperately.
+
+"Perhaps you may have some one in yours!" naively answered Sugarman.
+
+Leibel gave a hypocritic long-drawn, "U-m-m-m. I wonder if Rose
+Green--where I work--" he said, and stopped.
+
+"I fear not," said Sugarman. "She is on my list. Her father gave her
+to me some months ago, but he is hard to please. Even the maiden
+herself is not easy, being pretty."
+
+"Perhaps she has waited for some one," suggested Leibel.
+
+Sugarman's keen ear caught the note of complacent triumph.
+
+"You have been asking her yourself!" he exclaimed in horror-stricken
+accents.
+
+"And if I have?" said Leibel defiantly.
+
+"You have cheated me! And so has Eliphaz Green--I always knew he was
+tricky! You have both defrauded me!"
+
+"I did not mean to," said Leibel mildly.
+
+"You _did_ mean to. You had no business to take the matter out of my
+hands. What right had you to propose to Rose Green?"
+
+"I did not," cried Leibel excitedly.
+
+"Then you asked her father!"
+
+"No; I have not asked her father yet."
+
+"Then how do you know she will have you?"
+
+"I--I know," stammered Leibel, feeling himself somehow a liar as well
+as a thief. His brain was in a whirl; he could not remember how the
+thing had come about. Certainly he had not proposed; nor could he say
+that she had.
+
+"You know she will have you," repeated Sugarman, reflectively. "And
+does _she_ know?"
+
+"Yes. In fact," he blurted out, "we arranged it together."
+
+"Ah! You both know. And does her father know?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"Ah! then I must get his consent," said Sugarman decisively.
+
+"I--I thought of speaking to him myself."
+
+"Yourself!" echoed Sugarman, in horror. "Are you unsound in the head?
+Why, that would be worse than the mistake you have already made!"
+
+"What mistake?" asked Leibel, firing up.
+
+"The mistake of asking the maiden herself. When you quarrel with her
+after your marriage, she will always throw it in your teeth that you
+wished to marry her. Moreover, if you tell a maiden you love her, her
+father will think you ought to marry her as she stands. Still, what is
+done is done." And he sighed regretfully.
+
+"And what more do I want? I love her."
+
+"You piece of clay!" cried Sugarman contemptuously. "Love will not
+turn machines, much less buy them. You must have a dowry. Her father
+has a big stocking--he can well afford it."
+
+Leibel's eyes lit up. There was really no reason why he should not
+have bread-and-cheese with his kisses.
+
+"Now, if _you_ went to her father," pursued the Shadchan, "the odds
+are that he would not even give you his daughter--to say nothing of
+the dowry. After all, it is a cheek of you to aspire so high. As you
+told me from the first, you haven't saved a penny. Even my commission
+you won't be able to pay till you get the dowry. But if _I_ go, I do
+not despair of getting a substantial sum--to say nothing of the
+daughter."
+
+"Yes, I think you had better go," said Leibel eagerly.
+
+"But if I do this thing for you I shall want a pound more," rejoined
+Sugarman.
+
+"A pound more!" echoed Leibel, in dismay. "Why?"
+
+"Because Rose Green's hump is of gold," replied Sugarman oracularly.
+"Also, she is fair to see, and many men desire her."
+
+"But you have always your five per cent on the dowry."
+
+"It will be less than Volcovitch's," explained Sugarman. "You see,
+Green has other and less beautiful daughters."
+
+"Yes; but then it settles itself more easily. Say five shillings."
+
+"Eliphaz Green is a hard man," said the Shadchan instead.
+
+"Ten shillings is the most I will give!"
+
+"Twelve and sixpence is the least I will take. Eliphaz Green haggles
+so terribly."
+
+They split the difference, and so eleven and threepence represented
+the predominance of Eliphaz Green's stinginess over Volcovitch's.
+
+The very next day Sugarman invaded the Green work-room. Rose bent over
+her seams, her heart fluttering. Leibel had duly apprised her of the
+roundabout manner in which she would have to be won, and she had
+acquiesced in the comedy. At the least it would save her the trouble
+of father-taming.
+
+Sugarman's entry was brusque and breathless. He was overwhelmed with
+joyous emotion. His blue bandanna trailed agitatedly from his
+coat-tail.
+
+"At last!" he cried, addressing the little white-haired master-tailor,
+"I have the very man for you."
+
+"Yes?" grunted Eliphaz, unimpressed. The monosyllable was packed with
+emotion. It said: "Have you really the face to come to me again with
+an ideal man?"
+
+"He has all the qualities that you desire," began the Shadchan, in a
+tone that repudiated the implications of the monosyllable. "He is
+young, strong, God-fearing--"
+
+"Has he any money?" grumpily interrupted Eliphaz.
+
+"He _will_ have money," replied Sugarman unhesitatingly, "when he
+marries."
+
+"Ah!" The father's voice relaxed, and his foot lay limp on the
+treadle. He worked one of his machines himself, and paid himself the
+wages so as to enjoy the profit. "How much will he have?"
+
+"I think he will have fifty pounds; and the least you can do is to let
+him have fifty pounds," replied Sugarman, with the same happy
+ambiguity.
+
+Eliphaz shook his head on principle.
+
+"Yes, you will," said Sugarman, "when you learn how fine a man he is."
+
+The flush of confusion and trepidation already on Leibel's countenance
+became a rosy glow of modesty, for he could not help overhearing what
+was being said, owing to the lull of the master-tailor's machine.
+
+"Tell me, then," rejoined Eliphaz.
+
+"Tell me, first, if you will give fifty to a young, healthy,
+hard-working, God-fearing man, whose idea it is to start as a
+master-tailor on his own account? And you know how profitable that
+is!"
+
+"To a man like that," said Eliphaz, in a burst of enthusiasm, "I would
+give as much as twenty-seven pounds ten!"
+
+Sugarman groaned inwardly, but Leibel's heart leaped with joy. To get
+four months' wages at a stroke! With twenty-seven pounds ten he could
+certainly procure several machines, especially on the instalment
+system. Out of the corners of his eyes he shot a glance at Rose, who
+was beyond earshot.
+
+"Unless you can promise thirty it is waste of time mentioning his
+name," said Sugarman.
+
+"Well, well--who is he?"
+
+Sugarman bent down, lowering his voice into the father's ear.
+
+"What! Leibel!" cried Eliphaz, outraged.
+
+"Sh!" said Sugarman, "or he will overhear your delight, and ask more.
+He has his nose high enough as it is."
+
+"B--b--b--ut," sputtered the bewildered parent, "I know Leibel myself.
+I see him every day. I don't want a Shadchan to find me a man I
+know--a mere hand in my own workshop!"
+
+"Your talk has neither face nor figure," answered Sugarman sternly.
+"It is just the people one sees every day that one knows least. I
+warrant that if I had not put it into your head you would never have
+dreamt of Leibel as a son-in-law. Come now, confess."
+
+Eliphaz grunted vaguely, and the Shadchan went on triumphantly. "I
+thought as much. And yet where could you find a better man to keep
+your daughter?"
+
+"He ought to be content with her alone," grumbled her father.
+
+Sugarman saw the signs of weakening, and dashed in, full strength.
+"It's a question whether he will have her at all. I have not been to
+him about her yet. I awaited your approval of the idea." Leibel
+admired the verbal accuracy of these statements, which he just caught.
+
+"But I didn't know he would be having money," murmured Eliphaz.
+
+"Of course you didn't know. That's what the Shadchan is for--to point
+out the things that are under your nose."
+
+"But where will he be getting this money from?"
+
+"From you," said Sugarman frankly.
+
+"From me?"
+
+"From whom else? Are you not his employer? It has been put by for his
+marriage-day."
+
+"He has saved it?"
+
+"He has not _spent_ it," said Sugarman, impatiently.
+
+"But do you mean to say he has saved fifty pounds?"
+
+"If he could manage to save fifty pounds out of your wages he would be
+indeed a treasure," said Sugarman. "Perhaps it might be thirty."
+
+"But you said fifty."
+
+"Well, _you_ came down to thirty," retorted the Shadchan. "You cannot
+expect him to have more than your daughter brings."
+
+"I never said thirty," Eliphaz reminded him. "Twenty-seven ten was my
+last bid."
+
+"Very well; that will do as a basis of negotiations," said Sugarman
+resignedly. "I will call upon him this evening. If I were to go over
+and speak to him now he would perceive you were anxious and raise his
+terms, and that will never do. Of course, you will not mind allowing
+me a pound more for finding you so economical a son-in-law?"
+
+"Not a penny more."
+
+"You need not fear," said Sugarman resentfully. "It is not likely I
+shall be able to persuade him to take so economical a father-in-law.
+So you will be none the worse for promising."
+
+"Be it so," said Eliphaz, with a gesture of weariness, and he started
+his machine again.
+
+"Twenty-seven pounds ten, remember," said Sugarman, above the whirr.
+
+Eliphaz nodded his head, whirring his wheelwork louder.
+
+"And paid before the wedding, mind?"
+
+The machine took no notice.
+
+"Before the wedding, mind," repeated Sugarman. "Before we go under the
+canopy."
+
+"Go now, go now!" grunted Eliphaz, with a gesture of impatience. "It
+shall be all well." And the white-haired head bowed immovably over its
+work.
+
+In the evening Rose extracted from her father the motive of Sugarman's
+visit, and confessed that the idea was to her liking.
+
+"But dost thou think he will have me, little father?" she asked, with
+cajoling eyes.
+
+"Anyone would have my Rose."
+
+"Ah, but Leibel is different. So many years he has sat at my side and
+said nothing."
+
+"He had his work to think of; he is a good, saving youth."
+
+"At this very moment Sugarman is trying to persuade him--not so? I
+suppose he will want much money."
+
+"Be easy, my child." And he passed his discoloured hand over her hair.
+
+Sugarman turned up the next day, and reported that Leibel was
+unobtainable under thirty pounds, and Eliphaz, weary of the contest,
+called over Leibel, till that moment carefully absorbed in his
+scientific chalk-marks, and mentioned the thing to him for the first
+time. "I am not a man to bargain," Eliphaz said, and so he gave the
+young man his tawny hand, and a bottle of rum sprang from somewhere,
+and work was suspended for five minutes, and the "hands" all drank
+amid surprised excitement. Sugarman's visits had prepared them to
+congratulate Rose. But Leibel was a shock.
+
+The formal engagement was marked by even greater junketing, and at
+last the marriage-day came. Leibel was resplendent in a diagonal
+frock-coat, cut by his own hand, and Rose stepped from the cab a
+medley of flowers, fairness, and white silk, and behind her came two
+bridesmaids--her sisters--a trio that glorified the spectator-strewn
+pavement outside the Synagogue. Eliphaz looked almost tall in his
+shiny high hat and frilled shirt-front. Sugarman arrived on foot,
+carrying red-socked little Ebenezer tucked under his arm.
+
+Leibel and Rose were not the only couple to be disposed of, for it was
+the thirty-third day of the Omer--a day fruitful in marriages.
+
+But at last their turn came. They did not, however, come in their
+turn, and their special friends among the audience wondered why they
+had lost their precedence. After several later marriages had taken
+place, a whisper began to circulate. The rumour of a hitch gained
+ground steadily, and the sensation was proportionate. And, indeed, the
+rose was not to be picked without a touch of the thorn.
+
+Gradually the facts leaked out, and a buzz of talk and comment ran
+through the waiting Synagogue. Eliphaz had not paid up!
+
+At first he declared he would put down the money immediately after
+the ceremony. But the wary Sugarman, schooled by experience, demanded
+its instant delivery on behalf of his other client. Hard-pressed,
+Eliphaz produced ten sovereigns from his trousers' pocket, and
+tendered them on account. These Sugarman disdainfully refused, and the
+negotiations were suspended. The bridegroom's party was encamped in
+one room, the bride's in another, and after a painful delay Eliphaz
+sent an emissary to say that half the amount should be forthcoming,
+the extra five pounds in a bright new Bank of England note. Leibel,
+instructed and encouraged by Sugarman, stood firm.
+
+And then arose a hubbub of voices, a chaos of suggestions; friends
+rushed to and fro between the camps, some emerging from their seats in
+the Synagogue to add to the confusion. But Eliphaz had taken his stand
+upon a rock--he had no more ready money. To-morrow, the next day, he
+would have some. And Leibel, pale and dogged, clutched tighter at
+those machines that were slipping away momently from him. He had not
+yet seen his bride that morning, and so her face was shadowy compared
+with the tangibility of those machines. Most of the other maidens were
+married women by now, and the situation was growing desperate. From
+the female camp came terrible rumours of bridesmaids in hysterics, and
+a bride that tore her wreath in a passion of shame and humiliation.
+Eliphaz sent word that he would give an I O U for the balance, but
+that he really could not muster any more current coin. Sugarman
+instructed the ambassador to suggest that Eliphaz should raise the
+money among his friends.
+
+And the short spring day slipped away. In vain the minister, apprised
+of the block, lengthened out the formulae for the other pairs, and
+blessed them with more reposeful unction. It was impossible to stave
+off the Leibel-Green item indefinitely, and at last Rose remained the
+only orange-wreathed spinster in the Synagogue. And then there was a
+hush of solemn suspense, that swelled gradually into a steady rumble
+of babbling tongues as minute succeeded minute and the final bridal
+party still failed to appear. The latest bulletin pictured the bride
+in a dead faint. The afternoon was waning fast. The minister left his
+post near the canopy, under which so many lives had been united, and
+came to add his white tie to the forces for compromise. But he fared
+no better than the others. Incensed at the obstinacy of the
+antagonists, he declared he would close the Synagogue. He gave the
+couple ten minutes to marry in or quit. Then chaos came, and
+pandemonium--a frantic babel of suggestion and exhortation from the
+crowd. When five minutes had passed, a legate from Eliphaz announced
+that his side had scraped together twenty pounds, and that this was
+their final bid.
+
+Leibel wavered; the long day's combat had told upon him; the reports
+of the bride's distress had weakened him. Even Sugarman had lost his
+cocksureness of victory. A few minutes more and both commissions might
+slip through his fingers. Once the parties left the Synagogue it would
+not be easy to drive them there another day. But he cheered on his man
+still--one could always surrender at the tenth minute.
+
+At the eighth the buzz of tongues faltered suddenly, to be transposed
+into a new key, so to speak. Through the gesticulating assembly swept
+that murmur of expectation which crowds know when the procession is
+coming at last. By some mysterious magnetism all were aware that the
+BRIDE herself--the poor hysteric bride--had left the paternal camp,
+was coming in person to plead with her mercenary lover.
+
+And as the glory of her and the flowers and the white draperies loomed
+upon Leibel's vision his heart melted in worship, and he knew his
+citadel would crumble in ruins at her first glance, at her first
+touch. Was it fair fighting? As his troubled vision cleared and as she
+came nigh unto him, he saw to his amazement that she was speckless and
+composed--no trace of tears dimmed the fairness of her face, there was
+no disarray in her bridal wreath.
+
+The clock showed the ninth minute.
+
+She put her hand appealingly on his arm, while a heavenly light came
+into her face--the expression of a Joan of Arc animating her country.
+
+"Do not give in, Leibel," she said. "Do not have me! Do not let them
+persuade thee. By my life thou must not! Go home!"
+
+[Illustration: "'BY MY LIFE THOU MUST NOT!'"]
+
+So at the eleventh minute the vanquished Eliphaz produced the balance,
+and they all lived happily ever afterwards.
+
+
+
+
+_A Double-Barrelled Ghost._
+
+
+I was ruined. The bank in which I had been a sleeping-partner from my
+cradle smashed suddenly, and I was exempted from income tax at one
+fell blow. It became necessary to dispose even of the family mansion
+and the hereditary furniture. The shame of not contributing to my
+country's exchequer spurred me to earnest reflection upon how to earn
+an income, and, having mixed myself another lemon-squash, I threw
+myself back on the canvas garden-chair, and watched the white, scented
+wreaths of my cigar-smoke hanging in the drowsy air, and provoking
+inexperienced bees to settle upon them. It was the sort of summer
+afternoon on which to eat lotus, and to sip the dew from the lips of
+Amaryllises; but although I had an affianced Amaryllis (whose
+Christian name was Jenny Grant), I had not the heart to dally with her
+in view of my sunk fortunes. She loved me for myself, no doubt, but
+then I was not myself since the catastrophe; and although she had
+hastened to assure me of her unchanged regard, I was not at all
+certain whether _I_ should be able to support a wife in addition to
+all my other misfortunes. So that I was not so comfortable that
+afternoon as I appeared to my perspiring valet: no rose in the garden
+had a pricklier thorn than I. The thought of my poverty weighed me
+down; and when the setting sun began flinging bars of gold among the
+clouds, the reminder of my past extravagance made my heart heavier
+still, and I broke down utterly.
+
+Swearing at the manufacturers of such collapsible garden-chairs, I was
+struggling to rise when I perceived my rings of smoke comporting
+themselves strangely. They were widening and curving and flowing into
+definite outlines, as though the finger of the wind were shaping them
+into a rough sketch of the human figure. Sprawling amid the ruins of
+my chair, I watched the nebulous contours grow clearer and clearer,
+till at last the agitation subsided, and a misty old gentleman, clad
+in vapour of an eighteenth-century cut, stood plainly revealed upon
+the sun-flecked grass.
+
+"Good afternoon, John," said the old gentleman, courteously removing
+his cocked hat.
+
+"Good afternoon!" I gasped. "How do you know my name?"
+
+"Because I have not forgotten my own," he replied. "I am John
+Halliwell, your great-grandfather. Don't you remember me?"
+
+A flood of light burst upon my brain. Of course! I ought to have
+recognised him at once from the portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, just
+about to be sold by auction. The artist had gone to full length in
+painting him, and here he was complete, from his white wig,
+beautifully frizzled by the smoke, to his buckled shoes, from his
+knee-breeches to the frills at his wrists.
+
+"Oh! pray pardon my not having recognised you," I cried remorsefully;
+"I have such a bad memory for faces. Won't you take a chair?"
+
+"Sir, I have not sat down for a century and a half," he said simply.
+"Pray be seated yourself."
+
+[Illustration: "PRAY BE SEATED YOURSELF," SAID THE GHOST SIMPLY.]
+
+Thus reminded of my undignified position, I gathered myself up, and
+readjusting the complex apparatus, confided myself again to its canvas
+caresses. Then, grown conscious of my shirt-sleeves, I murmured,--
+
+"Excuse my deshabille. I did not expect to see you."
+
+"I am aware the season is inopportune," he said apologetically. "But I
+did not care to put off my visit till Christmas. You see, with us
+Christmas is a kind of Bank Holiday; and when there is a general
+excursion, a refined spirit prefers its own fireside. Moreover, I am
+not, as you may see, very robust, and I scarce like to risk exposing
+myself to such an extreme change of temperature. Your English
+Christmas is so cold. With the pyrometer at three hundred and fifty,
+it is hardly prudent to pass to thirty. On a sultry day like this the
+contrast is less marked."
+
+"I understand," I said sympathetically.
+
+"But I should hardly have ventured," he went on, "to trespass upon you
+at this untimely season merely out of deference to my own
+valetudinarian instincts. The fact is, I am a _litterateur_."
+
+"Oh, indeed," I said vaguely; "I was not aware of it."
+
+"Nobody was aware of it," he replied sadly; "but my calling at this
+professional hour will, perhaps, go to substantiate my statement."
+
+I looked at him blankly. Was he quite sane? All the apparitions I had
+ever heard of spoke with some approach to coherence, however imbecile
+their behaviour. The statistics of insanity in the spiritual world
+have never been published, but I suspect the percentage of madness is
+high. Mere harmless idiocy is doubtless the prevalent form of
+dementia, judging by the way the poor unhappy spirits set about
+compassing their ends; but some of their actions can only be explained
+by the more violent species of mania. My great-grandfather seemed to
+read the suspicion in my eye, for he hastily continued:--
+
+"Of course it is only the outside public who imagine that the spirits
+of literature really appear at Christmas. It is the annuals that
+appear at Christmas. The real season at which we are active on earth
+is summer, as every journalist knows. By Christmas the authors of our
+being have completely forgotten our existence. As a writer myself, and
+calling in connection with a literary matter, I thought it more
+professional to pay my visit during the dog days, especially as your
+being in trouble supplied me with an excuse for asking permission to
+go beyond bounds."
+
+"You knew I was in trouble?" I murmured, touched by this sympathy from
+an unexpected quarter.
+
+"Certainly. And from a selfish point of view I am not sorry. You have
+always been so inconsiderately happy that I could never find a seemly
+pretext to get out to see you."
+
+"Is it only when your descendants are in trouble that you are allowed
+to visit them?" I enquired.
+
+"Even so," he answered. "Of course spirits whose births were tragic,
+who were murdered into existence, are allowed to supplement the
+inefficient police departments of the upper globe, and a similar
+charter is usually extended to those who have hidden treasures on
+their conscience; but it is obvious that if all spirits were accorded
+what furloughs they pleased, eschatology would become a farce. Sir,
+you have no idea of the number of bogus criminal romances tendered
+daily by those wishing to enjoy the roving license of avenging
+spirits, for the ex-assassinated are the most enviable of immortals,
+and cases of personation are of frequent occurrence. Our actresses,
+too, are always pretending to have lost jewels; there is no end to the
+excuses. The Christmas Bank Holiday is naturally inadequate to our
+needs. Sir, I should have been far happier if my descendants had gone
+wrong; but in spite of the large fortune I had accumulated, both your
+father and your grandfather were of exemplary respectability and
+unruffled cheerfulness. The solitary outing I had was when your
+father attended a seance, and I was knocked up in the middle of the
+night. But I did not enjoy my holiday in the least; the indignity of
+having to move the furniture made the blood boil in my veins as in a
+spirit-lamp, and exposed me to the malicious badinage of my circle on
+my return. I protested that I did not care a rap; but I was mightily
+rejoiced when I learnt that your father had denounced the proceedings
+as a swindle, and was resolved never to invite me to his table again.
+When you were born I thought you were born to trouble, as the sparks
+fly upwards from our dwelling-place; but I was mistaken. Up till now
+your life has been a long summer afternoon."
+
+"Yes, but now the shades are falling," I said grimly. "It looks as if
+my life henceforwards will be a long holiday--for you."
+
+He shook his wig mournfully.
+
+"No, I am only out on parole. I have had to give my word of honour to
+try to set you on your legs again as soon as possible."
+
+"You couldn't have come at a more opportune moment," I cried,
+remembering how he had found me. "You are a good as well as a
+great-grandfather, and I am proud of my descent. Won't you have a
+cigar?"
+
+"Thank you, I never smoke--on earth," said the spirit hurriedly, with
+a flavour of bitter in his accents. "Let us to the point. You have
+been reduced to the painful necessity of earning your living."
+
+I nodded silently, and took a sip of lemon-squash. A strange sense of
+salvation lulled my soul.
+
+"How do you propose to do it?" asked my great-grandfather.
+
+"Oh, I leave that to you," I said confidingly.
+
+"Well, what do you say to a literary career?"
+
+"Eh? What?" I gasped.
+
+"A literary career," he repeated. "What makes you so astonished?"
+
+"Well, for one thing it's exactly what Tom Addlestone, the
+leader-writer of the _Hurrygraph_, was recommending to me this
+morning. He said: 'John, my boy, if I had had your advantages ten
+years ago, I should have been spared many a headache and supplied with
+many a dinner. It may turn out a lucky thing yet that you gravitated
+so to literary society, and that so many press men had free passes to
+your suppers. Consider the number of men of letters you have mixed
+drinks with! Why, man, you can succeed in any branch of literature you
+please.'"
+
+My great-grandfather's face was radiant. Perhaps it was only the
+setting sun that touched it.
+
+"A chip of the old block," he murmured. "That was I in my young days.
+Johnson, Goldsmith, Sheridan, Burke, Hume, I knew them all--gay dogs,
+gay dogs! Except that great hulking brute of a Johnson," he added,
+with a sudden savage snarl that showed his white teeth.
+
+"I told Addlestone that I had no literary ability whatever, and he
+scoffed at me for my simplicity. All the same, I think he was only
+poking fun at me. My friends might puff me out to bull-size; but I am
+only a frog, and I should very soon burst. The public might be cajoled
+into buying one book; they could not be duped a second time. Don't you
+think I was right? I haven't any literary ability, have I?"
+
+"Certainly not, certainly not," replied my great-grandfather with an
+alacrity and emphasis that would have seemed suspicious in a mere
+mortal. "But it does seem a shame to waste so great an opportunity.
+The ball that Addlestone waited years for is at your foot, and it is
+grievous to think that there it must remain merely because you do not
+know how to kick it."
+
+"Well, but what's a man to do?"
+
+"What's a man to do?" repeated my great-grandfather contemptuously.
+"Get a ghost, of course."
+
+"By Jove!" I cried with a whistle. "That's a good idea! Addlestone has
+a ghost to do his leaders for him when he's lazy. I've seen the young
+fellow myself. Tom pays him six guineas a dozen, and gets three
+guineas apiece himself. But of course Tom has to live in much better
+style, and that makes it fair all round. You mean that I am to take
+advantage of my influence to get some other fellow work, and take a
+commission for the use of my name? That seems feasible enough. But
+where am I to find a ghost with the requisite talents?"
+
+"Here," said my great-grandfather.
+
+"What! You?"
+
+"Yes, I," he replied calmly.
+
+"But you couldn't write--"
+
+"Not now, certainly not. All I wrote now would be burnt."
+
+"Then how the devil--?" I began.
+
+"Hush!" he interrupted nervously. "Listen, and I will a tale unfold.
+It is called _The Learned Pig_. I wrote it in my forty-fifth year, and
+it is full of sketches from the life of all the more notable
+personages of my time, from Lord Chesterfield to Mrs. Thrale, from Peg
+Woffington to Adam Smith and the ingenious Mr. Dibdin. I have painted
+the portrait of Sir Joshua quite as faithfully as he has painted mine.
+Of course much of the dialogue is real, taken from conversations
+preserved in my note-book. It is, I believe, a complete picture of the
+period, and being the only book I ever wrote or intended to write, I
+put my whole self into it, as well as all my friends."
+
+"It must be, indeed, your masterpiece," I cried enthusiastically. "But
+why is it called _The Learned Pig_, and how has it escaped
+publication?"
+
+"You shall hear. The learned pig is Dr. Johnson. He refused to take
+wine with me. I afterwards learnt that he had given up strong liqueurs
+altogether, and I went to see him again, but he received me with
+epigrams. He is the pivot of my book, all the other characters
+revolving about him. Naturally, I did not care to publish during his
+lifetime; not entirely, I admit, out of consideration to his feelings,
+but because foolish admirers had placed him on such a pedestal that he
+could damn any book he did not relish. I made sure of surviving him,
+so many and diverse were his distempers; whereas my manuscript
+survived me. In the moment of death I strove to tell your grandfather
+of the hiding-place in which I had bestowed it; but I could only make
+signs to which he had not the clue. You can imagine how it has
+embittered my spirit to have missed the aim of my life and my due
+niche in the pantheon of letters. In vain I strove to be registered
+among the 'hidden treasure' spirits, with the perambulatory privileges
+pertaining to the class. I was told that to recognise manuscripts
+under the head of 'treasures' would be to open a fresh door to abuse,
+there being few but had scribbled in their time and had a good conceit
+of their compositions to boot. I could offer no proofs of the value of
+my work, not even printers' proofs, and even the fact that the
+manuscript was concealed behind a sliding panel availed not to bring
+it into the coveted category. Moreover, not only did I have no other
+pretext to call on my descendants, but both my son and grandson were
+too respectable to be willingly connected with letters and too
+flourishing to be enticed by the prospects of profit. To you, however,
+this book will prove the avenue to fresh fortune."
+
+"Do you mean I am to publish it under your name?"
+
+"No, under yours."
+
+"But, then, where does the satisfaction come in?"
+
+"Your name is the same as mine."
+
+"I see; but still, why not tell the truth about it? In a preface, for
+instance."
+
+"Who would believe it? In my own day I could not credit that
+Macpherson spoke truly about the way Ossian came into his possession,
+nor to judge from gossip I have had with the younger ghosts did anyone
+attach credence to Sir Walter Scott's introductions."
+
+"True," I said musingly. "It is a played-out dodge. But I am not
+certain whether an attack on Dr. Johnson would go down nowadays. We
+are aware that the man had porcine traits, but we have almost
+canonised him."
+
+"The very reason why the book will be a success," he replied eagerly.
+"I understand that in these days of yours the best way of attracting
+attention is to fly in the face of all received opinion, and so in the
+realm of history to whitewash the villains and tar and feather the
+saints. The sliding panel of which I spoke is just behind the picture
+of me. Lose no time. Go at once, even as I must."
+
+The shadowy contours of his form waved agitatedly in the wind.
+
+"But how do you know anyone will bring it out?" I said doubtfully. "Am
+I to haunt the publishers' offices till--"
+
+"No, no, I will do that," he interrupted in excitement. "Promise me
+you will help me."
+
+"But I don't feel at all sure it stands a ghost of a chance," I said,
+growing colder in proportion as he grew more enthusiastic.
+
+"It is the only chance of a ghost," he pleaded. "Come, give me your
+word. Any of your literary friends will get you a publisher, and
+where could you get a more promising ghost?"
+
+"Oh, nonsense!" I said quietly, unconsciously quoting Ibsen. "There
+must be ghosts all the country over, as thick as the sand of the sea."
+
+I was determined to put the matter on its proper footing, for I saw
+that under pretence of restoring my fortunes he was really trying to
+get me to pull his chestnuts out of the fire, and I resented the
+deceptive spirit that could put forward such tasks as favours. It was
+evident that he cherished a post-mortem grudge against the great
+lexicographer, as well as a posthumous craving for fame, and wished to
+use me as the instrument of his reputation and his revenge. But I was
+a man of the world, and I was not going to be rushed by a mere
+phantom.
+
+"I don't deny there are plenty of ghosts about," he answered with
+insinuative deference. "Only will any of the others work for nothing?"
+
+He saw he had scored a point, and his eyes twinkled.
+
+"Yes, but I don't know that I approve of black-legs," I answered
+sternly. "You are taking the bread and butter out of some honest
+ghost's mouth."
+
+The corners of his own mouth drooped; his eyes grew misty; he looked
+fading away. "Most true," he faltered; "but be pitiful. Have you no
+great-grand-filial feelings?"
+
+"No, I lost everything in the crash," I answered coldly. "Suppose the
+book's a frost?"
+
+"I shan't mind," he said eagerly.
+
+"No, I don't suppose you _would_ mind a frost," I retorted
+witheringly. "But look at the chaff you'd be letting me in for. Hadn't
+you better put off publication for a century or two?"
+
+"No, no," he cried wildly; "our mansion will pass into strange hands.
+I shall not have the right of calling on the new proprietors."
+
+"Phew!" I whistled; "perhaps that's why you timed your visit now, you
+artful old codger. I have always heard appearances are deceptive.
+However, I have ever been a patron of letters; and although I cannot
+approve of post-mundane malice, and think the dead past should be let
+bury its dead, still, if you are set upon it, I will try and use my
+influence to get your book published."
+
+"Bless you!" he cried tremulously, with all the effusiveness natural
+to an author about to see himself in print, and trembled so violently
+that he dissipated himself away.
+
+I stood staring a moment at the spot where he had stood, pleased at
+having out-manoeuvred him; then my chair gave way with another
+crash, and I picked myself up painfully, together with the dead stump
+of my cigar, and brushed the ash off my trousers, and rubbed my eyes
+and wondered if I had been dreaming. But no! when I ran into the
+cheerless dining-room, with its pervading sense of imminent auction, I
+found the sliding panel behind the portrait by Reynolds, which seemed
+to beam kindly encouragement upon me, and, lo! _The Learned Pig_ was
+there in a mass of musty manuscript.
+
+As everybody knows, the book made a hit. The _Acadaeum_ was unusually
+generous in its praise: "A lively picture of the century of
+farthingales and stomachers, marred only by numerous anachronisms and
+that stilted air of faked-up archaeological knowledge which is, we
+suppose, inevitable in historical novels. The conversations are
+particularly artificial. Still, we can forgive Mr. Halliwell a good
+deal of inaccuracy and inacquaintance with the period, in view of the
+graphic picture of the literary dictator from the novel point of view
+of a contemporary who was not among the worshippers. It is curious
+how the honest, sterling character of the man is brought out all the
+more clearly from the incapacity of the narrator to comprehend its
+greatness--to show this was a task that called for no little skill and
+subtlety. If it were only for this one ingenious idea, Mr. Halliwell's
+book would stand out from the mass of abortive attempts to resuscitate
+the past. He has failed to picture the times, but he has done what is
+better--he has given us human beings who are alive, instead of the
+futile shadows that flit through the Walhalla of the average
+historical novel."
+
+All the leading critics were at one as to the cleverness with which
+the great soul of Dr. Johnson was made to stand out on the background
+of detraction, and the public was universally agreed that this was the
+only readable historical novel published for many years, and that the
+anachronisms didn't matter a pin. I don't know what I had done to Tom
+Addlestone; but when everybody was talking about me, he went about
+saying that I kept a ghost. I was annoyed, for I did not keep one in
+any sense, and I openly defied the world to produce him. Why, I never
+saw him again myself--I believe he was too disgusted with the fillip
+he had given Dr. Johnson's reputation, and did not even take advantage
+of the Christmas Bank Holiday. But Addlestone's libel got to Jenny
+Grant's ears, and she came to me indignantly, and said: "I won't have
+it. You must either give up me or the ghost."
+
+"To give up you would be to give up the ghost, darling," I answered
+soothingly. "But you, and you alone, have a right to the truth. It is
+not my ghost at all, it is my great-grandfather's."
+
+"Do you mean to say he bequeathed him to you?"
+
+"It came to that."
+
+I then told her the truth, and showed how in any case the profits of
+my ancestor's book rightfully reverted backwards to me. So we were
+married on them, and Jenny, fired by my success, tried _her_ hand on a
+novel, and published it, truthfully enough, under the name of J.
+Halliwell. She has written all my stories ever since, including this
+one; which, if it be necessarily false in the letter, is true in the
+spirit.
+
+
+
+
+_Vagaries of a Viscount._
+
+
+That every man has a romance in his life has always been a pet theory
+of mine, so I was not surprised to find the immaculate Dorking smoking
+a clay pipe in Cable Street (late Ratcliff Highway) at half-past eight
+of a winter's morning. Nor was I surprised to find myself there,
+because, as a romancer, I have a poetic license to go anywhere and see
+everything. Viscount Dorking had just come out of an old clo' shop,
+and was got up like a sailor. Under his arm was a bundle. He lurched
+against me without recognising me, for I, too, was masquerading in my
+shabbiest and roughest attire, and the morning was bleak and foggy,
+the round red sun flaming in the forehead of the morning sky like the
+eye of a cyclop. But there could be no doubt it was Dorking--even if I
+had not been acquainted with the sedate Viscount (that paradox of the
+peerage, whose treatises on pure mathematics were the joy of Senior
+Wranglers) I should have suspected something shady from the whiteness
+of my sailor's hands.
+
+Dorking was a dapper little man, almost dissociable from gloves and a
+chimneypot. The sight of him shambling along like one of the crew of
+H. M. S. _Pinafore_ gave me a pleasant thrill of excitement. I turned,
+and followed him along the narrow yellow street. He made towards the
+Docks, turning down King David Lane. He was apparently without any
+instrument of protection, though I, for my part, was glad to feel the
+grasp of the old umbrella that walks always with me, hand in knob.
+Hard by the Shadwell Basin he came to a halt before a frowsy
+coffee-house, reflectively removed his pipe from his mouth, and
+whistled a bar of a once popular air in a peculiar manner. Then he
+pushed open the bleared glass door, and was lost to view.
+
+After an instant's hesitation I pulled my sombrero over my eyes and
+strode in after him, plunging into a wave of musty warmth not entirely
+disagreeable after the frigid street. The boxes were full of queer
+waterside characters, among whom flitted a young woman robustly
+beautiful. The Viscount was already smiling at her when I entered.
+"Bring us the usual," he said, in a rough accent.
+
+"Come along, Jenny, pint and one," impatiently growled a
+weather-beaten old ruffian in a pilot's cap.
+
+"Pawn your face!" murmured Jenny, turning to me with an enquiring air.
+
+"Pint and one," I said boldly, in as husky a tone as I could squeeze
+out.
+
+Several battered visages, evidently belonging to _habitues_ of the
+place, were bent suspiciously in my direction; perhaps because my
+rig-out, though rough, had no flavour of sea-salt or river-mud, for no
+one took the least notice of Dorking, except the comely attendant. I
+waited with some curiosity for my fare, which turned out to be nothing
+more mysterious than a pint of coffee and one thick slice of bread and
+butter. Not to appear ignorant of the prices ruling, I tendered Jenny
+a sixpence, whereupon she returned me fourpence-halfpenny. This
+appeared to me so ridiculously cheap that I had not the courage to
+offer her the change as I had intended, nor did she seem to expect it.
+The pint of coffee was served in one great hulking cup such as
+Gargantua might have quaffed. I took a sip, and found it of the
+flavour of chalybeate springs. But it was hot, and I made shift to
+drink a little, casting furtive glances at Dorking, three boxes off
+across the gangway.
+
+My gentleman sailor seemed quite at home, swallowing stolidly as
+though at his own breakfast-table. I grew impatient for him to have
+done, and beguiled the time by studying a placard on the wall offering
+a reward for information as to the whereabouts of a certain ship's
+cook who was wanted for knifing human flesh. And presently, curiously
+enough, in comes a police-sergeant on this very matter, and out goes
+Dorking (rather hastily, I thought), with me at his heels.
+
+No sooner had he got round a corner than he started running at a rate
+that gave me a stitch in the side. He did not stop till he reached a
+cab-rank. There was only one vehicle on it, and the coughing,
+red-nosed driver, unpleasantly suggesting a mixture of grog and fog,
+was climbing to his seat when I came cautiously and breathlessly up,
+and Dorking was returning to his trousers' pocket a jingling mass of
+gold and silver coins, which he had evidently been exhibiting to the
+sceptical cabman. He seemed to walk these regions with the
+fearlessness of Una in the enchanted forest. I had no resource but to
+hang on to the rear, despite the alarums of "whip behind," raised by
+envious and inconsiderate urchins.
+
+And in this manner, defiantly dodging the cabman, who several times
+struck me unfairly behind his back, I drove through a labyrinth of
+sordid streets to the Bethnal Green Museum. Here we alighted, and the
+Viscount strolled about outside the iron railings, from time to time
+anxiously scrutinising the church clock and looking towards the
+fountain which only performs in the summer, and was then wearing its
+winter night-cap. At last, as if weary of waiting, he walked with
+sudden precipitation towards the turnstile, and was lost to view
+within. After a moment I followed him, but was stopped by the janitor,
+who, with an air of astonishment, informed me there was sixpence to
+pay, it being a Wednesday. I understood at once why the Viscount had
+selected this day, for there was no one to be seen inside, and it was
+five minutes ere I discovered him. He was in the National Portrait
+Gallery, before one of Sir Peter Lely's insipid beauties, which to my
+surprise he was copying in pencil. Evidently he was trying to while
+away the time. At eleven o'clock to the second he scribbled something
+underneath the sketch, folded it up carefully, picked up his bundle
+and walked unhesitatingly downstairs into the second gallery, where,
+after glancing about to assure himself that the policeman's head was
+turned away, he deposited the paper between two bottles of tape-worms,
+and stole out through the back door. Feverishly seizing the sketch, I
+followed him, but the policeman's eye was now upon me, and I had to
+walk with dignified slowness, though I was in agonies lest I should
+lose my man. My anxiety was justified; when I reached the grounds, the
+Viscount was nowhere to be seen. I ran hither and thither like a
+madman, along the back street and about the grounds, hacking my shins
+against a perambulator, and at last sank upon a frigid garden seat,
+breathless and exhausted. I now bethought me of the paper clenched in
+my fist, and, smoothing it out, deciphered these words faintly
+pencilled beneath a caricature of the Court beauty:--
+
+"Not my fault you missed me. If you are still set on your folly, you
+will find me lunching at the Chingford Hotel."
+
+I sprang up exultant, new fire in my veins. True, the mystery was
+darkening, but it was the darkness that precedes the dawn.
+
+"_Cherchez la femme!_" I muttered, and darting down Three Colts Lane I
+reached the Junction, only to find the barrier dashed in my face. But
+half-a-crown drove it back, and I sprang into the guard's van on his
+very heels. A shilling stifled the oath on his lips, and transferred
+it to mine when I discovered I had jumped into the Enfield Fast.
+Before I really got to Chingford it was long past noon. But I found
+him.
+
+The Viscount was toying with a Chartreuse in the dining-room. The
+waiters eyed me suspiciously, for I was shabby and dusty and
+haggard-looking. To my surprise Dorking had doffed the sailor, and
+wore a loud checked suit! He looked up as I entered, but did not
+appear to recognise me. There was no one with him. Still I had found
+him. That was the prime thing.
+
+Becoming conscious I was faint with hunger, I took up the menu, when
+to my vexation I saw the Viscount pay his bill, and don an overcoat
+and a billy-cock, and ere I could snatch bite or sup I was striding
+along the slimy forest paths, among the gaunt, fog-wrapped trees,
+following the Viscount by his footprints whenever I lost him for a
+moment among the avenues. Dorking marched with quick, decisive steps.
+In the heart of the forest, by a great oak, whose roots sprawled in
+every direction, he came to a standstill. Hidden behind some
+brushwood, I awaited the sequel with beating heart.
+
+The Viscount took out a great coloured handkerchief, and spread it
+carefully over the roots of the oak; then he sat down on the
+handkerchief, and whistled the same bar of the same once popular air
+he had whistled outside the coffee-house. Immediately a broken-nosed
+man emerged from behind a bush, and addressed the Viscount. I strained
+my ears, but could not catch their conversation, but I heard Dorking
+laugh heartily, as he sprang up and clapped the man on the shoulder.
+They walked off together.
+
+I was now excited to the wildest degree; I forgot the pangs of baffled
+appetite; my whole being was strung to find a key to the strange
+proceedings of the mathematical Viscount. Tracking their double
+footsteps through the mist, I found them hobnobbing in a public-house
+on the forest border. After peeping in, I ran round to another door,
+and stood in an adjoining bar, where, without being seen, I could have
+a snack of bread and cheese, and hear all.
+
+"Could you bring her round to my house to-night?" said Dorking, in a
+hoarse whisper. "You shall have the money down."
+
+"Right, sir!" said the man. And then their pewters clinked.
+
+To my chagrin this was all the conversation. The Viscount strode out
+alone--except for my company. The fog had grown deeper, and I was glad
+to be conducted to the station. This time we went to Liverpool Street.
+Dorking lingered at the book-stall, and at last enquired if they had
+yesterday's _Times_. Receiving a reply in the negative, he clucked his
+tongue impatiently. Then, as with a sudden thought, he ran up to the
+North London Railway book-stall, only to be again disappointed. He
+took out the great coloured handkerchief, and wiped his forehead. Then
+he entered into confidential conversation with an undistinguished
+stranger, fat and foreign, who had been looking eagerly up and down at
+the extreme end of the platform. Re-descending into the street, he
+jumped into a Charing Cross 'bus. As he went inside I had no option
+but to go outside, though the air was yellow and I felt chilled to the
+bone.
+
+[Illustration: IN CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION WITH AN UNDISTINGUISHED
+FOREIGNER.]
+
+Alighting at Charing Cross, he went into the telegraph office, and
+wrote a telegram. The composition seemed to cause him great
+difficulty. Standing outside the door, I saw him discard two
+half-begun forms. When he came out I made a swift calculation of the
+chances, and determined to secure the two forms, even at the risk of
+losing him. Neither had an address. One read: "If you are still set on
+your fol--"; the other: "Come to-night if you are still--" Bolting out
+with these precious scraps of evidence, that only added fuel to the
+flame of curiosity that was consuming me, I turned cold to find the
+Viscount swallowed up in the crowd. After an instant's agonised
+hesitation, I hailed a hansom, and drove to his flat in Victoria
+Street. The valet told me the Viscount was ill in bed, and could not
+see me. I read in his face that it was a lie. I resolved to loiter
+outside the building till Dorking's return.
+
+I had not long to wait. In less than ten minutes a hansom discharged
+him at my feet. Had I not been prepared for anything, I should not
+have recognised him again in his red whiskers, white hat, and blue
+spectacles. He rang the bell, and enquired of his own valet if
+Viscount Dorking was at home. The man said he was ill in bed.
+
+"Oh, we'll soon put him on his legs again," interrupted Dorking, with
+a professional air, and pushed his valet aside. In that moment the
+solution dawned upon me. _Dorking was mad!_ Nothing but insanity would
+account for his day's vagaries. I felt it was my duty, as a
+fellow-creature, to look to him. I followed him, to the open-eyed
+consternation of the valet. Suddenly he turned upon me, and seized me
+savagely by the throat. I felt choking. My worst fear was confirmed.
+
+"No further, my man," he cried, flinging me back. "Now go, and tell
+her ladyship how you have earned your fee!"
+
+"Dorking! are you mad?" I gasped. "Don't you remember me--Mr.
+Pry--from the Bachelor's Club?"
+
+"Great heavens, Paul!" he cried. Then he fell back on an ottoman, and
+laughed till the whiskers ran down his sides. He always had a sense of
+humour, I remembered.
+
+We explained the situation to each other. Dorking had an eccentric
+aunt who wished to leave her money to him. Suddenly Dorking learnt
+from his valet, who was betrothed to her ladyship's maid, that she had
+taken it into her head he could not be so virtuous and so devoted to
+pure mathematics as he appeared, and so she had commissioned a
+private detective agency to watch her nephew, and discover how deep
+the still waters ran. Incensed at the suspicion, he had that day
+started a course of action calculated to bamboozle the agency, and
+having no other meaning whatever.
+
+When he caught sight of me gazing at him so curiously he mistook me
+for one of its minions, and determined to lead me a dance; the mistake
+was confirmed by my patient obedience to his piping.
+
+The broken-nosed man was an accident. Anticipating his value as a
+beautiful false clue, Dorking laughed uproariously at the sight of
+him, and readily agreed to buy a French poodle.
+
+
+
+
+The Queen's Triplets, a Nursery Tale for the old.
+
+[Illustration: The Queen's Triplets, a Nursery Tale for the old]
+
+
+Once upon a time there was a Queen who unexpectedly gave birth to
+three Princes. They were all so exactly alike that after a moment or
+two it was impossible to remember which was the eldest or which was
+the youngest. Any two of them, sort them how you pleased, were always
+twins. They all cried in the same key and with the same comic
+grimaces. In short, there was not a hair's-breadth of difference
+between them--not that they had a hair's-breadth between them, for,
+like most babies, they were prematurely bald.
+
+The King was very much put out. He did not mind the expense of keeping
+three Heir Apparents, for that fell on the country, and was defrayed
+by an impost called "The Queen's Tax." But it was the consecrated
+custom of the kingdom that the crown should pass over to the eldest
+son, and the absence of accurate knowledge upon this point was
+perplexing. A triumvirate was out of the question; the multiplication
+of monarchs would be vexation to the people, and the rule of three
+would drive them mad.
+
+The Queen was just as annoyed, though on different grounds. She felt
+it hard enough to be the one mother in the realm who could not get the
+Queen's bounty, without having to suffer the King's reproaches. Her
+heart was broken, and she died soon after of laryngitis.
+
+To distinguish the triplets (when it was too late) they were always
+dressed one in green, one in blue, and one in black, the colours of
+the national standard, and naturally got to be popularly known by the
+sobriquets of the Green Prince, the Blue Prince, and the Black Prince.
+Every year they got older and older till at last they became young
+men. And every year the King got older and older till at last he
+became an old man, and the fear crept into his heart that he might be
+restored to his wife and leave the kingdom embroiled in civil feud
+unless he settled straightway who should be the heir. But, being
+human, notwithstanding his court laureates, he put off the
+disagreeable duty from day to day, and might have died without an
+heir, if the envoys from Paphlagonia had not aroused him to the
+necessity of a decision. For they announced that the Princess of
+Paphlagonia, being suddenly orphaned, would be sent to him in the
+twelfth moon that she might marry his eldest son as covenanted by
+ancient treaty. This was the last straw. "But I don't know who is my
+eldest son!" yelled the King, who had a vast respect for covenants and
+the Constitution.
+
+In great perturbation he repaired to a famous Oracle, at that time
+worked by a priestess with her hair let down her back. The King asked
+her a plain question: "Which is my eldest son?"
+
+After foaming at the mouth like an open champagne bottle, she
+replied:--
+
+"The eldest is he that the Princess shall wed."
+
+[Illustration: "'THE ELDEST IS HE THAT THE PRINCESS SHALL WED.'"]
+
+The King said he knew that already, and was curtly told that if the
+replies did not give satisfaction he could go elsewhere. So he went to
+the wise men and the magicians, and held a levee of them, and they
+gave him such goodly counsel that the Chief Magician was henceforth
+honoured with the privilege of holding the Green, Black, and Blue
+Tricolour over the King's head at mealtimes. Soon after, it being the
+twelfth moon, the King set forward with a little retinue to meet the
+Princess of Paphlagonia, whose coming had got abroad; but returned two
+days later with the news that the Princess was confined to her room,
+and would not arrive in the city till next year.
+
+[Illustration: "THE CHIEF MAGICIAN."]
+
+On the last day of the year the King summoned the three Princes to the
+Presence Chamber. And they came, the Green Prince, and the Blue
+Prince, and the Black Prince, and made obeisance to the Monarch, who
+sat in moire antique robes, on the old gold throne, with his courtiers
+all around him.
+
+"My sons," he said, "ye are aware that, according to the immemorial
+laws of the realm, one of you is to be my heir, only I know not which
+of you he is; the difficulty is complicated by the fact that I have
+covenanted to espouse him to the Princess of Paphlagonia, of whose
+imminent arrival ye have heard. In this dilemma there are those who
+would set the sovereignty of the State upon the hazard of a die. But
+not by such undignified methods do I deem it prudent to extort the
+designs of the gods. There are ways alike more honourable to you and
+to me of ascertaining the intentions of the fates. And first, the wise
+men and the magicians recommend that ye be all three sent forth upon
+an arduous emprise. As all men know, somewhere in the great seas that
+engirdle our dominion, somewhere beyond the Ultimate Thule, there
+rangeth a vast monster, intolerable, not to be borne. Every ninth moon
+this creature approacheth our coasts, deluging the land with an inky
+vomit. This plaguy Serpent cannot be slain, for the soothsayers aver
+it beareth a charmed life, but it were a mighty achievement, if for
+only one year, the realm could be relieved of its oppression. Are ye
+willing to set forth separately upon this knightly quest?"
+
+[Illustration: "'THERE RANGETH A VAST MONSTER.'"]
+
+Then the three Princes made enthusiastic answer, entreating to be sped
+on the journey forthwith, and a great gladness ran through the
+Presence Chamber, for all had suffered much from the annual incursions
+of the monster. And the King's heart was fain of the gallant spirit of
+the Princes.
+
+"'Tis well," said he. "To-morrow, at the first dawn of the new year,
+shall ye fare forth together; when ye reach the river ye shall part,
+and for eight moons shall ye wander whither ye will; only, when the
+ninth moon rises, shall ye return and tell me how ye have fared.
+Hasten now, therefore, and equip yourselves as ye desire, and if there
+be aught that will help you in the task, ye have but to ask for it."
+
+Then, answering quickly before his brothers could speak, the Black
+Prince cried: "Sire, I would crave the magic boat which saileth under
+the sea and destroyeth mighty armaments."
+
+"It is thine," replied the King.
+
+Then the Green Prince said: "Sire, grant me the magic car which
+saileth through the air over the great seas."
+
+The Black Prince started and frowned, but the King answered, "It is
+granted." Then, turning to the Blue Prince, who seemed lost in
+meditation, the King said: "Why art thou silent, my son? Is there
+nothing I can give thee?"
+
+"Thanks, I will take a little pigeon," answered the Blue Prince
+abstractedly.
+
+The courtiers stared and giggled, and the Black Prince chuckled, but
+the Blue Prince was seemingly too proud to back out of his request.
+
+So at sunrise on the morrow the three Princes set forth, journeying
+together till they came to the river where they had agreed to part
+company. Here the magic boat was floating at anchor, while the magic
+car was tied to the trunk of a plane-tree upon the bank, and the
+little pigeon, fastened by a thread, was fluttering among the
+branches.
+
+Now, when the Green Prince saw the puny pigeon, he was like to die of
+laughing.
+
+"Dost thou think to feed the Serpent with thy pigeon?" he sneered. "I
+fear me thou wilt not choke him off thus."
+
+"And what hast thou to laugh at?" retorted the Black Prince,
+interposing. "Dost thou think to find the Serpent of the Sea in the
+air?"
+
+"He is always in the air," murmured the Blue Prince, inaudibly.
+
+"Nay," said the Green Prince, scratching his head dubiously. "But thou
+didst so hastily annex the magic boat, I had to take the next best
+thing."
+
+"Dost thou accuse me of unfairness?" cried the Black Prince in a
+pained voice. "Sooner than thou shouldst say that, I would change with
+thee."
+
+"Wouldst thou, indeed?" enquired the Green Prince eagerly.
+
+"Ay, that would I," said the Black Prince indignantly. "Take the magic
+boat, and may the gods speed thee." So saying he jumped briskly into
+the magic car, cut the rope, and sailed aloft. Then, looking down
+contemptuously upon the Blue Prince, he shouted: "Come, mount thy
+pigeon, and be off in search of the monster."
+
+But the Blue Prince replied, "I will await you here."
+
+Then the Green Prince pushed off his boat, chuckling louder than ever.
+"Dost thou expect to keep the creature off our coasts by guarding the
+head of the river?" he scoffed.
+
+But the Blue Prince replied, "I will await you both here till the
+ninth moon."
+
+No sooner were his brothers gone than the Blue Prince set about
+building a hut. Here he lived happily, fishing his meals out of the
+river or snaring them out of the sky. The pigeon was never for a
+moment in danger of being eaten. It was employed more agreeably to
+itself and its master in operations which will appear anon. Most of
+the time the Blue Prince lay on his back among the wild flowers,
+watching the river rippling to the sea or counting the passing of the
+eight moons, that alternately swelled and dwindled, now showing like
+the orb of the Black Prince's car, now like the Green Prince's boat.
+Sometimes he read scraps of papyrus, and his face shone.
+
+One lovely starry night, as the Blue Prince was watching the heavens,
+it seemed to him as if the eighth moon in dying had dropped out of the
+firmament and was falling upon him. But it was only the Black Prince
+come back. His garments were powdered with snow, his brows were
+knitted gloomily, he had a dejected, despondent aspect.
+
+"Thou here!" he snapped.
+
+"Of course," said the Blue Prince cheerfully, though he seemed a
+little embarrassed all the same. "Haven't I been here all the time?
+But go into my hut, I've kept supper hot for thee."
+
+"Has the Green Prince had his?"
+
+"No, I haven't seen anything of him. Hast thou scotched the Serpent?"
+
+"No, I haven't seen anything of him," growled the Black Prince. "I've
+passed backwards and forwards over the entire face of the ocean, but
+nowhere have I caught the slightest glimpse of him. What a fool I was
+to give up the magic boat! He never seems to come to the surface."
+
+All this while the Blue Prince was dragging his brother with
+suspicious solicitude towards the hut, where he sat him down to his
+own supper of ortolans and oysters. But the host had no sooner run
+outside again, on the pretext of seeing if the Green Prince was
+coming, than there was a disturbance and eddying in the stream as of a
+rally of water-rats, and the magic boat shot up like a catapult, and
+the Green Prince stepped on deck all dry and dusty, and with the air
+of a draggled dragon-fly.
+
+"Good evening, hast thou er--scotched the Serpent?" stammered the Blue
+Prince, taken aback.
+
+"No, I haven't even seen anything of him," growled the Green Prince.
+"I have skimmed along the entire surface of the ocean, and sailed
+every inch beneath it, but nowhere have I caught the slightest
+glimpse of him. What a fool I was to give up the magic car! From a
+height I could have commanded an ampler area of ocean. Perhaps he was
+up the river."
+
+"No, I haven't seen anything of him," replied the Blue Prince hastily.
+"But go into my hut, thy supper must be getting quite cold." He
+hurried his verdant brother into the hut, and gave him some chestnuts
+out of the oven (it was the best he could do for him), and then rushed
+outside again, on the plea of seeing if the Serpent was coming. But he
+seemed to expect him to come from the sky, for, leaning against the
+trunk of the plane-tree by the river, he resumed his anxious scrutiny
+of the constellations. Presently there was a gentle whirring in the
+air, and a white bird became visible, flying rapidly downwards in his
+direction. Almost at the same instant he felt himself pinioned by a
+rope to the tree-trunk, and saw the legs of the alighting pigeon
+neatly prisoned in the Black Prince's fist.
+
+"Aha!" croaked the Black Prince triumphantly. "Now we shall see
+through thy little schemes."
+
+He detached the slip of papyrus which dangled from the pigeon's neck.
+
+"How darest thou read my letters?" gasped the Blue Prince.
+
+"If I dare to rob the mail, I shall certainly not hesitate to read the
+letters," answered the Black Prince coolly, and went on to enunciate
+slowly (for the light was bad) the following lines:--
+
+    "Heart-sick I watch the old moon's ling'ring death,
+    And long upon my face to feel thy breath;
+    I burn to see its final flicker die,
+    And greet our moon of honey in the sky."
+
+"What is all this moonshine?" he concluded in bewilderment.
+
+Now the Blue Prince was the soul of candour, and seeing that nothing
+could now be lost by telling the truth, he answered:--
+
+"This is a letter from a damsel who resideth in the Tower of
+Telifonia, on the outskirts of the capital; we are engaged. No doubt
+the language seemeth to thee a little overdone, but wait till thy turn
+cometh."
+
+[Illustration: THE DAMSEL OF THE TOWER.]
+
+"And so thou hast employed this pigeon as a carrier between thee and
+this suburban young person?" cried the Black Prince, feeling vaguely
+boiling over with rage.
+
+"Even so," answered his brother, "but guard thy tongue. The lady of
+whom thou speakest so disrespectfully is none other than the Princess
+of Paphlagonia."
+
+"Eh? What?" gasped the Black Prince.
+
+"She hath resided there since the twelfth moon of last year. The King
+received her the first time he set out to meet her."
+
+"Dost thou dare say the King hath spoken untruth?"
+
+"Nay, nay. The King is a wise man. Wise men never mean what they say.
+The King said she was confined to her room. It is true, for he had
+confined her in the Tower with her maidens for fear she should fall in
+love with the wrong Prince, or the reverse, before the rightful heir
+was discovered. The King said she would not arrive in the city till
+next year. This also is true. As thou didst rightly observe, the Tower
+of Telifonia is situated in the suburbs. The King did not bargain for
+my discovering that a beautiful woman lived in its topmost turret."
+
+"Nay, how couldst thou discover that? The King did not lend thee the
+magic car, and thou certainly couldst not see her at that height
+without the magic glass!"
+
+"I have not seen her. But through the embrasure I often saw the
+sunlight flashing and leaping like a thing of life, and I knew it was
+what the children call a 'Johnny Noddy.' Now a 'Johnny Noddy' argueth
+a mirror, and a mirror argueth a woman, and frequent use thereof
+argueth a beautiful woman. So, when in the Presence Chamber the King
+told us of his dilemma as to the hand of the Princess of Paphlagonia,
+it instantly dawned upon me who the beautiful woman was, and why the
+King was keeping her hidden away, and why he had hidden away his
+meaning also. Wherefore straightway I asked for a pigeon, knowing that
+the pigeons of the town roost on the Tower of Telifonia, so that I had
+but to fly my bird at the end of a long string like a kite to
+establish communication between me and the fair captive. In time my
+little messenger grew so used to the journey to and fro that I could
+dispense with the string. Our courtship has been most satisfactory. We
+love each other ardently, and--"
+
+"But you have never seen each other!" interrupted the Black Prince.
+
+"Thou forgettest we are both royal personages," said the Blue Prince
+in astonished reproof.
+
+"But this is gross treachery--what right hadst thou to make these
+underhand advances in our absence?"
+
+"Thou forgettest I had to scotch the Serpent," said the Blue Prince in
+astonished reproof. "Thou forgettest also that she can only marry the
+heir to the throne."
+
+"Ah, true!" said the Black Prince, considerably relieved. "And as thou
+hast chosen to fritter away the time in making love to her, thou hast
+taken the best way to lose her."
+
+"Thou forgettest I shall have to marry her," said the Blue Prince in
+astonished reproof. "Not only because I have given my word to a lady,
+but because I have promised the King to do my best to scotch the
+Serpent of the Sea. Really thou seemest terribly dull to-day. Let me
+put the matter in a nutshell. If he who scotches the Sea Serpent is to
+marry the Princess, then would I scotch the Sea Serpent by marrying
+the Princess, and marry the Princess to scotch the Sea Serpent. Thou
+hast searched the face of the sea, and our brother has dragged its
+depths, and nowhere have ye seen the Sea Serpent. Yet in the ninth
+moon he will surely come, and the land will be covered with an inky
+vomit as in former years. But if I marry the Princess of Paphlagonia
+in the ninth moon, the Royal Wedding will ward off the Sea Serpent,
+and not a scribe will shed ink to tell of his advent. Therefore,
+instead of ranging through the earth, I stayed at home and paid my
+addresses to the--"
+
+"Yes, yes, what a fool I was!" interrupted the Black Prince, smiting
+his brow with his palm, so that the pigeon escaped from between his
+fingers, and winged its way back to the Tower of Telifonia as if to
+carry his words to the Princess.
+
+"Thou forgettest thou art a fool still," said the Blue Prince in
+astonished reproof. "Prithee, unbind me forthwith."
+
+"Nay, I am a fool no longer, for it is I that shall wed the Princess
+of Paphlagonia and scotch the Sea Serpent, it is I that have sent the
+pigeon to and fro, and unless thou makest me thine oath to be silent
+on the matter I will slay thee and cast thy body into the river."
+
+"Thou forgettest our brother, the Green Prince," said the Blue Prince
+in astonished reproof.
+
+"Bah! he hath eyes for naught but the odd ortolans and oysters I
+sacrificed that he might gorge himself withal, while I spied out thy
+secret. He shall be told that I returned to exchange my car for thy
+pigeon even as I exchanged my boat for his car. Come, thine oath or
+thou diest." And a jewelled scimitar shimmered in the starlight.
+
+[Illustration: "A JEWELLED SCIMITAR SHIMMERED IN THE STARLIGHT."]
+
+The Blue Prince reflected that though life without love was hardly
+worth living, death was quite useless. So he swore and went in to
+supper. When he found that the Green Prince had not spared even a
+baked chestnut before he fell asleep, he swore again. And on the
+morrow when the Princes approached the Tower of Telifonia, with its
+flashing "Johnny Noddy," they met a courier from the King, who, having
+informed himself of the Black Prince's success, ran ahead with the
+rumour thereof. And lo! when the Princes passed through the city gate
+they found the whole population abroad clad in all their bravery, and
+flags flying and bells ringing and roses showering from the balconies,
+and merry music swelling in all the streets for joy of the prospect of
+the Sea Serpent's absence. And when the new moon rose, the three
+Princes, escorted by flute-players, hied them to the Presence Chamber,
+and the King embraced his sons, and the Black Prince stood forward and
+explained that if a Prince were married in the ninth moon it would
+prevent the monster's annual visit. Then the King fell upon the Black
+Prince's neck and wept and said, "My son! my son! my pet! my baby! my
+tootsicums! my popsy-wopsy!"
+
+And then, recovering himself, and addressing the courtiers, he said:
+"The gods have enabled me to discover my youngest son. If they will
+only now continue as propitious, so that I may discover the elder of
+the other two, I shall die not all unhappy."
+
+[Illustration: "'THE GODS HAVE ENABLED ME TO DISCOVER MY YOUNGEST
+SON.'"]
+
+But the Black Prince could repress his astonishment no longer. "Am I
+dreaming, sire?" he cried. "Surely I have proved myself the eldest,
+not the youngest!"
+
+"Thou forgettest that thou hast come off successful," replied the King
+in astonished reproof. "Or art thou so ignorant of history or of the
+sacred narratives handed down to us by our ancestors that thou art
+unaware that when three brothers set out on the same quest, it is
+always the youngest brother that emerges triumphant? Such is the will
+of the gods. Cease, therefore, thy blasphemous talk, lest they
+overhear thee and be put out."
+
+A low, ominous murmur from the courtiers emphasised the King's
+warning.
+
+"But the Princess--she at least is mine," protested the unhappy
+Prince. "We love each other--we are engaged."
+
+"Thou forgettest she can only marry the heir," replied the King in
+astonished reproof. "Wouldst thou have us repudiate our solemn
+treaty?"
+
+"But I wasn't really the first to hit on the idea at all!" cried the
+Black Prince desperately. "Ask the Blue Prince! he never telleth
+untruth."
+
+"Thou forgettest I have taken an oath of silence on the matter,"
+replied the Blue Prince in astonished reproof. "The Black Prince it
+was that first hit on the idea," volunteered the Green Prince. "He
+exchanged his boat for the car and the car for the pigeon."
+
+So the three Princes were dismissed, while the King took counsel with
+the magicians and the wise men who never mean what they say. And the
+Court Chamberlain, wearing the orchid of office in his buttonhole, was
+sent to interview the Princess, and returned saying that she refused
+to marry any one but the proprietor of the pigeon, and that she still
+had his letters as evidence in case of his marrying anyone else.
+
+"Bah!" said the King, "she shall obey the treaty. Six feet of
+parchment are not to be put aside for the whim of a girl five foot
+eight. The only real difficulty remaining is to decide whether the
+Blue Prince or the Green Prince is the elder. Let me see--what was it
+the Oracle said? Perhaps it will be clearer now:--
+
+    "'The eldest is he that the Princess shall wed.'
+
+"No, it still seems merely to avoid stating anything new."
+
+"Pardon me, sire," replied the Chief Magician; "it seems perfectly
+plain now. Obviously, thou art to let the Princess choose her husband,
+and the Oracle guarantees that, other things being equal, she shall
+select the eldest. If thou hadst let her have the pick from among the
+three, she would have selected the one with whom she was in love--the
+Black Prince to wit, and that would have interfered with the Oracle's
+arrangements. But now that we know with whom she is in love, we can
+remove that one, and then, there being no reason why she should choose
+the Green Prince rather than the Blue Prince, the deities of the realm
+undertake to inspire her to go by age only."
+
+"Thou hast spoken well," said the King. "Let the Princess of
+Paphlagonia be brought, and let the two Princes return."
+
+So after a space the beautiful Princess, preceded by trumpeters, was
+conducted to the Palace, blinking her eyes at the unaccustomed
+splendour of the lights. And the King and all the courtiers blinked
+their eyes, dazzled by her loveliness. She was clad in white samite,
+and on her shoulder was perched a pet pigeon. The King sat in his
+moire robes on the old gold throne, and the Blue Prince stood on his
+right hand, and the Green Prince on his left, the Black Prince as the
+youngest having been sent to bed early. The Princess courtesied three
+times, the third time so low that the pigeon was flustered, and flew
+off her shoulder, and, after circling about, alighted on the head of
+the Blue Prince.
+
+[Illustration: "THE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS, PRECEDED BY TRUMPETERS, WAS
+CONDUCTED TO THE PALACE."]
+
+"It is the Crown," said the Chief Magician, in an awestruck voice.
+Then the Princess's eyes looked around in search of the pigeon, and
+when they lighted on the Prince's head they kindled as the grey sea
+kindles at sunrise.
+
+An answering radiance shone in the Blue Prince's eyes, as, taking the
+pigeon that nestled in his hair, he let it fly towards the Princess.
+But the Princess, her bosom heaving as if another pigeon fluttered
+beneath the white samite, caught it and set it free again, and again
+it made for the Blue Prince.
+
+Three times the bird sped to and fro. Then the Princess raised her
+humid eyes heavenward, and from her sweet lips rippled like music the
+verse:--
+
+    "Last night I watched its final flicker die."
+
+And the Blue Prince answered:--
+
+    "_Now_ greet our moon of honey in the sky."
+
+Half fainting with rapture the Princess fell into his arms, and from
+all sides of the great hall arose the cries, "The Heir! The Heir! Long
+live our future King! The eldest-born! The Oracle's fulfilled!"
+
+Such was the origin of lawn tennis, which began with people tossing
+pigeons to each other in imitation of the Prince and Princess in the
+Palace Hall. And this is why love plays so great a part in the game,
+and that is how the match was arranged between the Blue Prince and the
+Princess of Paphlagonia.
+
+
+
+
+_A Successful Operation._
+
+
+Robert came home, anxious and perturbed. For the first time since his
+return from their honeymoon he crossed the threshold of the tiny house
+without a grateful sense of blessedness.
+
+"What is it, Robert?" panted Mary, her sweet lips cold from his
+perfunctory kiss.
+
+"He is going blind," he said in low tones.
+
+"Not your father!" she murmured, dazed.
+
+"Yes, my father! I thought it was nothing, or rather I scarcely
+thought about it at all. The doctor at the Eye Hospital merely asked
+him to bring some one with him next time; naturally he came to me."
+There was a touch of bitterness about the final phrase.
+
+"Oh, how terrible!" said Mary. Her pretty face looked almost wan.
+
+"I don't see that you're called upon to distress yourself so much,
+dear," said Robert, a little resentfully. "He hasn't even been a
+friend to you."
+
+"Oh, Robert! how can you think of all that now? If he did try to keep
+you from marrying a penniless, friendless girl, if he did force you to
+work long years for me, was it not all for the best? Now that his
+fortune has been swept away, where would you be without money or
+occupation?"
+
+"Where would Providence be without its women-defenders?" murmured
+Robert. "You don't understand finance, dear. He might easily have
+provided for me long before the crash came."
+
+"Never mind, Robert. Are we not all the happier for having waited for
+each other?" And in the spiritual ecstasy of her glance he forgot for
+a while his latest trouble.
+
+Robert's father lived in a little room on a small allowance made him
+by his outcast son. Broken by age and misfortune, he pottered about
+chess-rooms and debating forums, garrulous and dogmatic, and given to
+tippling. But now the consciousness of his coming infirmity crushed
+him, and he sat for days on his bed brooding, waiting in terror for
+the darkness, and glad when day after day ended only in the shadows of
+eve. Sometimes, instead of the dreaded darkness, sunlight came. That
+was when Mary dropped in to cheer him up, and to repeat to him that
+the hospital took a most hopeful view of his case, was only waiting
+for the darkness to be thickest to bring back the dawn. It took four
+months before the light faded utterly, and then another month before
+the film was opaque enough to allow the cataract to be couched. The
+old man was to go into the hospital for the operation. Robert hired a
+lad to be with him during the month of waiting, and sometimes sat with
+him in the evenings, after business, and now and then the landlady
+looked in and told him her troubles, and the attendant was faithful
+and went out frequently to buy him gin. But it was only Mary who could
+really soothe him now, for the poor old creature's soul groped blindly
+amid new apprehensions--a nervous dread of the chloroforming, the
+puncturing, the strange sounds of voices of the great blank hospital,
+where he felt confusedly he would be lost in an ocean of unfathomable
+night, incapable even of divining, from past experience, the walls
+about him or the ceiling over his head, and withal a paralysing
+foreboding that the operation would be a failure, that he would live
+out the rest of his days with the earth prematurely over his eyes.
+
+"I am very glad to see you, my dear," he would say when Mary came, and
+then he fell a-maundering self-pitifully.
+
+Mary went home one day and said, "Robert, dear, I have been thinking."
+
+"Yes, my pet," he said encouragingly, for she looked timid and
+hesitant.
+
+"Couldn't we have the operation performed here?"
+
+He was startled; protested, pointed out the impossibility. But she had
+answers for all his objections. They could give up their own bedroom
+for a fortnight--it would only be a fortnight or three weeks at
+most--turn their sitting-room into a bedroom for themselves. What if
+infinite care would be necessary in regulating the "dark room," surely
+they could be as careful as the indifferent hospital nurses if they
+were only told what to do, and as for the trouble, that wasn't worth
+considering.
+
+"But you forget, my foolish little girl," he said at last, "if he
+comes here we shall have to pay the expenses of the operation
+ourselves."
+
+"Well, would that be much?" she asked innocently.
+
+"Only fifty guineas or so, I should think," he replied crushingly.
+"What with the operating fee, and the nurse, and the subsequent
+medical attendance."
+
+But Mary was not altogether crushed. "It wouldn't be all our savings,"
+she murmured.
+
+"Are you forgetting what we shall be needing our savings for?" he said
+with gentle reproach, as he stroked her soft hair.
+
+She blushed angelically. "No, but surely there will be enough left
+and--and I shall be making all his things myself--and by that time we
+shall have put by a little more."
+
+In the end she conquered. The old man, to whom no faintest glimmer now
+penetrated, was installed in the best bedroom, which was darkened by
+double blinds and strips of cloth over every chink and a screen before
+the door; and a nurse sat on guard lest any ray or twinkle should find
+its way into the pitchy gloom. The great specialist came with two
+assistants, and departed in an odour of chloroform, conscious of
+another dexterous deed, to return only when the critical moment of
+raising the bandage should have arrived. During the fortnight of
+suspense an assistant replaced him, and the old man lay quiet and
+hopeful, rousing himself to talk dogmatically to his visitors. Mary
+gave him such time as she could spare from household duties, and he
+always kissed her on the forehead (so that his bandage just grazed her
+hair), remarking he was very glad to see her. It was a strange
+experience, these conversations carried on in absolute darkness, and
+they gave her a feeling of kinship with the blind. She discovered that
+smiles were futile, and that laughter alone availed in this uncanny
+intercourse. For compensation, her face could wear an anxious
+expression without alarming the patient. But it rarely did, for her
+spirits mounted with his. Before the operation she had been terribly
+anxious, wondering at the last moment if it would not have been
+performed more safely at the hospital, and ready to take upon her
+shoulders the responsibility for a failure. But as day after day went
+by, and all seemed going well, her thoughts veered round. She felt
+sure they would not have been so careful at the hospital. It was owing
+to this new confidence that one fatal night, carrying her candle, she
+walked mechanically into her bedroom, forgetting it was not hers. The
+nurse sprang up instantly, rushed forward, and blew out the light.
+Mary screamed, the screen fell with a clatter, the blind old man awoke
+and shrieked nervously--it was a terrible moment.
+
+After that Mary went through agonies of apprehension and remorse.
+Fortunately the end of the operation was very near now. In a day or
+two the great specialist came to remove the bandage, while the nurse
+carefully admitted a feeble illumination. If the patient could see
+now, the rest was a mere matter of time, of cautious gradation of
+light in the sick chamber, so that there might be no relapse. Mary
+dared not remain in the room at the instant of supreme crisis; she
+lingered outside, overwrought. Slowly, with infinite solicitude, the
+bandage was raised.
+
+"Can you see anything?" burst from Robert's lips.
+
+"Yes, but what makes the window look red?" grumbled the old man.
+
+"I congratulate you," said the great specialist in loud, hearty
+accents.
+
+"Thank God!" sobbed Mary's voice outside.
+
+When her child was born it was blind.
+
+
+
+
+_Flutter-Duck._
+
+_A GHETTO GROTESQUE._
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+FLUTTER-DUCK IN FEATHER.
+
+    "So sitting, served by man and maid,
+    She felt her heart grow prouder."
+
+        --TENNYSON: _The Goose_.
+
+Although everybody calls her "Flutter-Duck" now, there was a time when
+the inventor had exclusive rights in the nickname, and used it only in
+the privacy of his own apartment. That time did not last long, for the
+inventor was Flutter-Duck's husband, and his apartment was a
+public work-room among other things. He gave her the name in
+Yiddish--_Flatterkatchki_--a descriptive music in syllables, full of
+the flutter and quack of the farm-yard. It expressed his
+dissatisfaction with her airy, flighty propensities, her love of
+gaiety and gadding. She was a butterfly, irresponsible, off to balls
+and parties almost once a month, and he, a self-conscious ant,
+resented her. From the point of view of piety she was also sadly to
+seek, rejecting wigs in favour of the fringe. In the weak moments of
+early love her husband had acquiesced in the profanity, but later all
+the gain to her soft prettiness did not compensate for the twinges of
+his conscience.
+
+Flutter-Duck's husband was a furrier--a master-furrier, for did he not
+run a workshop? This workshop was also his living-room, and this
+living-room was also his bedroom. It was a large front room on the
+first floor, over a chandler's shop in an old-fashioned house in
+Montague Street, Whitechapel. Its shape was peculiar--an oblong
+stretching streetwards, interrupted in one of the longer walls by a
+square projection that might have been accounted a room in itself (by
+the landlord), and was, indeed, used as a kitchen. That the fireplace
+had been built in this corner was thus an advantage. Entering through
+the door on the grand staircase, you found yourself nearest the window
+with the bulk of the room on your left, and the square recess at the
+other end of your wall, so that you could not see it at first. At the
+window, which, of course, gave on Montague Street, was the bare wooden
+table at which the "hands"--man, woman, and boy--sat and stitched. The
+finished work--a confusion of fur caps, boas, tippets, and
+trimmings--hung over the dirty wainscot between the door and the
+recess. The middle of the room was quite bare, to give the workers
+freedom of movement, but the wall facing you was a background for
+luxurious furniture. First--nearest the window--came a sofa, on which
+even in the first years of marriage Flutter-Duck's husband sometimes
+lay prone, too unwell to do more than superintend the operations, for
+he was of a consumptive habit. Over the sofa hung a large gilt-framed
+mirror, the gilt protected by muslin drapings, in the corners of which
+flyblown paper flowers grew. Next to the sofa was a high chest of
+drawers crowned with dusty decanters, and after an interval filled up
+with the Sabbath clothes hanging on pegs and covered by a white sheet;
+the bed used up the rest of the space, its head and one side touching
+the walls, and its foot stretching towards the kitchen fire. On the
+wall above this fire hung another mirror,--small and narrow, and full
+of wavering, watery reflections,--also framed in muslin, though this
+time the muslin served to conceal dirt, not to protect gilt. The
+kitchen-dresser, decorated with pink needle-work paper, was at right
+angles to the fireplace, and it faced the kitchen table, at which
+Flutter-Duck cleaned fish, peeled potatoes, and made meat _kosher_ by
+salting and soaking it, as Rabbinic law demanded.
+
+By the foot of the bed, in the narrow wall opposite the window, was a
+door leading to a tiny inner room. For years this door remained
+locked; another family lived on the other side, and the furrier had
+neither the means nor the need for an extra bedroom. It was a room
+made for escapades and romances, connected with the back-yard by a
+steep ladder, up and down which the family might be seen going, and
+from which you could tumble into a broken-headed water-butt, or, by a
+dexterous back-fall, arrive in a dustbin. Jacob's ladder the
+neighbours called it, though the family name was Isaacs.
+
+And over everything was the trail of the fur. The air was full of a
+fine fluff--a million little hairs floated about the room covering
+everything, insinuating themselves everywhere, getting down the backs
+of the workers and tickling them, getting into their lungs and making
+them cough, getting into their food and drink and sickening them till
+they learnt callousness. They awoke with "furred" tongues, and they
+went to bed with them. The irritating filaments gathered on their
+clothes, on their faces, on the crockery, on the sofa, on the mirrors
+(big and little), on the bed, on the decanters, on the sheet that hid
+the Sabbath clothes--an impalpable down overlaying everything,
+penetrating even to the drinking-water in the board-covered zinc
+bucket, and covering "Rebbitzin," the household cat, with foreign
+fur. And in this room, drawing such breath of life, they sat--man,
+woman, boy--bending over boas bewitching young ladies would skate in;
+stitch, stitch, from eight till two and from three to eight, with
+occasional overtime that ran on now and again far into the next day;
+till their eyelids would not keep open any longer, and they couched on
+the floor on a heap of finished work; stitch, stitch, winter and
+summer, all day long, swallowing hirsute bread and butter at nine in
+the morning, and pausing at tea-time for five o'clock fur. And when
+twilight fell the gas was lit in the crowded room, thickening still
+further the clogged atmosphere, charged with human breaths and street
+odours, and wafts from the kitchen corner and the leathery smell of
+the dyed skins; and at times the yellow fog would steal in to
+contribute its clammy vapours. And often of a winter's morning the fog
+arrived early, and the gas that had lighted the first hours of work
+would burn on all day in the thick air, flaring on the Oriental
+figures with that strange glamour of gas-light in fog, and throwing
+heavy shadows on the bare boards; glazing with satin sheen the pendent
+snakes of fur, illuming the bowed heads of the workers and the
+master's sickly face under the tasselled smoking-cap, and touching up
+the faded fineries of Flutter-Duck, as she flitted about, chattering
+and cooking.
+
+Into such an atmosphere Flutter-Duck one day introduced a daughter,
+the "hands" getting an afternoon off, in honour not of the occasion
+but of decency. After that the crying of an infant became a feature of
+existence in the furrier's workshop; gradually it got rarer, as little
+Rachel grew up and reconciled herself to life. But the fountain of
+tears never quite ran dry. Rachel was a passionate child, and did not
+enjoy the best of parents.
+
+Every morning Flutter-Duck, who felt very grateful to Heaven for this
+crowning boon,--at one time bitterly dubious,--made the child say her
+prayers. Flutter-Duck said them word by word, and Rachel repeated
+them. They were in Hebrew, and neither Flutter-Duck nor Rachel had the
+least idea what they meant. For years these prayers preluded stormy
+scenes.
+
+"_Mediani!_" Flutter-Duck would begin.
+
+"_Mediani!_" little Rachel would lisp in her piping voice. It was two
+words, but Flutter-Duck imagined it was one. She gave the syllables in
+recitative, the _ani_ just two notes higher than the _medi_, and she
+accented them quite wrongly. When Rachel first grew articulate,
+Flutter-Duck was so overjoyed to hear the little girl echoing her,
+that she would often turn to her husband with an exclamation of "Thou
+hearest, Lewis, love?"
+
+And he, impatiently: "Nee, nee, I hear."
+
+Flutter-Duck, thus recalled from the pleasures of maternity to its
+duties, would recommence the prayer. "_Mediani!_"
+
+Which little Rachel would silently ignore.
+
+"_Mediani!_" Flutter-Duck's tone would now be imperative and
+ill-tempered.
+
+Then little Rachel would turn to her father querulously. "She thayth
+it again, _Mediani_, father!"
+
+And Flutter-Duck, outraged by this childish insolence, would exclaim,
+"Thou hearest, Lewis, love?" and incontinently fall to clouting the
+child. And the father, annoyed by the shrill ululation consequent upon
+the clouting: "Nee, nee, I hear too much." Rachel's refusal to be
+coerced into giving devotional over-measure was not merely due to her
+sense of equity. Her appetite counted for more. Prayers were the
+avenue to breakfast, and to pamper her featherheaded mother in
+repetitions was to put back the meal. Flutter-Duck was quite capable
+of breaking down, even in the middle, if her attention was distracted
+for a moment, and of trying back from the very beginning. She would,
+for example, get as far as "Hear--my daughter--the instruction--of thy
+mother," giving out the words one by one in the sacred language which
+was to her abracadabra.
+
+And little Rachel, equally in the dark, would repeat obediently,
+"Hear--my daughter--the instruction of--thy mother." Then the kettle
+would boil, or Flutter-Duck would overhear a remark made by one of the
+"hands," and interject: "Yes, I'd _give_ him!" or, "A fat lot _she_
+knows about it," or some phrase of that sort; after which she would
+grope for the lost thread of prayer, and end by ejaculating
+desperately:--
+
+"_Mediani!_"
+
+And the child sternly setting her face against this flippancy, there
+would be slapping and screaming, and if the father protested,
+Flutter-Duck would toss her head, and rejoin in her most dignified
+English: "If I bin a mother, I bin a mother!"
+
+To the logical adult it will be obvious that the little girl's
+obstinacy put the breakfast still further back; but then, obstinate
+little girls are not logical, and when Rachel had been beaten she
+would eat no breakfast at all. She sat sullenly in the corner, her
+pretty face swollen by weeping, and her great black eyes suffused with
+tears. Only her father could coax her then. He would go so far as to
+allow her to nurse "Rebbitzin," without reminding her that the
+creature's touch would make her forget all she knew, and convert her
+into a "cat's-head." And certainly Rachel always forgot not to touch
+the cat. Possibly the basis of her father's psychological superstition
+was the fact that the cat is an unclean animal, not to be handled,
+for he would not touch puss himself, though her pious title of
+"Rebbitzin," or Rabbi's wife, was the invention of this master of
+nicknames. But for such flashes no one would have suspected the stern
+little man of humour. But he had it--dry. He called the cat
+"Rebbitzin" ever since the day she refused to drink milk after meat.
+Perhaps she was gorged with the meat. But he insisted that the cat had
+caught religion through living in a Jewish family, and he developed a
+theory that she would not eat meat till it was _kosher_, so that in
+its earlier stages it might be exposed without risk of feline larceny.
+
+Cats are soothing to infants, but they ceased to satisfy Rachel when
+she grew up. Her education, while it gratified Her Majesty's
+Inspectors, was not calculated to eradicate the domestic rebel in her.
+At school she learnt of the existence of two Hebrew words, called
+_Moudeh ani_, but it was not till some time after that it flashed upon
+her that they were closely related to _Mediani_, and the discovery did
+not improve her opinion of her mother. She was a bonny child, who
+promised to be a beautiful girl, and her teachers petted her. They
+dressed well, these teachers, and Rachel ceased to consider
+Flutter-Duck's Sabbath shawl the standard of taste and splendour. Ere
+she was in her teens she grumbled at her home surroundings, and even
+fell foul of the all-pervading fur, thereby quarrelling with her
+bread and butter in more senses than one. She would open the
+window--strangely fastidious--to eat her bread and butter off the
+broad ledge outside the room, but often the fur only came flying the
+faster to the spot, as if in search of air; and in the winter her
+pretentious queasiness set everybody remonstrating and shivering in
+the sudden draught.
+
+Her objection to fur did not, however, embrace the preparation of it,
+for after school hours the little girl sat patiently stitching till
+late at night, by way of apprenticeship to her future, buoyed up by
+her earnings, and adding strip to strip, with the hair going all the
+same way, till she had made a great black snake. Of course she did not
+get anything near three-halfpence for twelve yards, like the real
+"hands," but whatever she earnt went towards her Festival frocks,
+which she would have got in any case. Not knowing this, she was happy
+to deserve the pretty dresses she loved, and was least impatient of
+her mother's chatter when Flutter-Duck dinned into her ears how pretty
+she looked in them. Alas! it is to be feared Lewis was right, that
+Flutter-Duck was a rattle-brain indeed. And the years which brought
+Flutter-Duck prosperity, which emancipated her from personal
+participation in the sewing, and gave Rachel the little bedroom to
+herself, did not bring wisdom. When Flutter-Duck's felicity culminated
+in a maid-servant (if only one who slept out), she was like a child
+with a monkey-on-a-stick. She gave the servant orders merely to see
+her arms and legs moving. She also lay late in bed to enjoy the
+spectacle of the factotum making the nine o'clock coffee it had been
+for so many years her own duty to prepare for the "hands." How sweetly
+the waft of chicory came to her nostrils! At first her husband
+remonstrated.
+
+"It is not beautiful," he said. "You ought to get up before the
+'hands' come."
+
+Flutter-Duck flushed resentfully. "If I bin a missis, I bin a missis,"
+she said with dignity. It became one of her formulae. When the servant
+developed insolence, as under Flutter-Duck's fostering familiarity she
+did, Flutter-Duck would resume her dignity with a jerk.
+
+"If I bin a missis," she would say, tossing her flighty head
+haughtily, "I bin a missis."
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A MIGRATORY BIRD.
+
+    "There strode a stranger to the door,
+    And it was windy weather."
+
+        --TENNYSON: _The Goose_.
+
+One day, when Rachel was nineteen, there came to the workshop a
+handsome young man. He had been brought by a placard in the window of
+the chandler's shop, and was found to answer perfectly to its wants.
+He took his place at the work-table, and soon came to the front as a
+wage-earner, wielding a dexterous needle that rarely snapped, even in
+white fur. His name was Emanuel Lefkovitch, and his seat was next to
+Rachel's. For Rachel had long since entered into her career, and the
+beauty of her early-blossoming womanhood was bent day after day over
+strips of rabbit-skin, which she made into sealskin jackets. For
+compensation to her youth Rachel walked out on the Sabbath elegantly
+attired in the latest fashion. She ordered her own frocks now, having
+a banking account of her own, in a tin box that was hidden away in her
+little bedroom. Her father honourably paid her a wage as large as she
+would have got elsewhere--otherwise she would have gone there. Her
+Sabbath walks extended as far as Hyde Park, and she loved to watch the
+fine ladies cantering in the Row, or lolling in luxurious carriages.
+Sometimes she even peeped into fashionable restaurants. She became the
+admiring disciple of a girl who worked at a Jewish furrier's in Regent
+Street, and whose occidental habitat gave her a halo of aristocracy.
+Even on Friday nights Rachel would disappear from the sacred
+domesticity of the Sabbath hearth, and Flutter-Duck suspected that
+she went to the Cambridge Music Hall in Spitalfields. This led to
+dramatic scenes, for Rachel's frowardness had not decreased with age.
+If she had only gone out with some accredited young man, Flutter-Duck
+could have borne the scandal in view of the joyous prospect of
+becoming a grandmother. But no! Rachel tolerated no matrimonial
+advances, not even from the most seductive of _Shadchanim_, though
+her voluptuous figure and rosy lips marked her out for the
+marriage-broker's eye. Her father had grown sterner with the growth of
+his malady, and though at the bottom of his heart he loved and was
+proud of his beautiful Rachel, the words that rose to his lips were
+often as harsh and bitter as Flutter-Duck's own, so that the girl
+would withdraw sullenly into herself and hold no converse with her
+parents for days.
+
+Nevertheless, there were plenty of halcyon intervals, especially in
+the busy season, when the extra shillings made the whole work-room
+brisk and happy, and the furriers gossiped of this and that, and told
+stories more droll than decorous. And then, too, every day was a
+delightfully inevitable sweep towards the Sabbath, and every Sabbath
+was a spoke in the great revolving wheel that brought round to them
+picturesque Festivals, or solemn Fasts, scarcely less enjoyable. And
+so there was an undercurrent of poetry below the sordid prose of daily
+life, and rifts in the grey fog, through which they caught glimpses of
+the azure vastness overarching the world. And the advent of Emanuel
+Lefkovitch distinctly lightened the atmosphere. His handsome face, his
+gay spirits, were like an influx of ozone. Rachel was perceptibly the
+brighter for his presence. She was gentler to everybody, even to her
+parents, and chatted vivaciously, and walked with an airier step! The
+sickly master-furrier's face lit up with pleasure as from his sofa he
+watched Emanuel's assiduous attentions to his girl in the way of
+picking up scissors and threading needles, and he frowned when
+Flutter-Duck hovered about the young man, chattering and monopolising
+his conversation.
+
+But one fine morning, some months after Emanuel's arrival, a change
+came over the spirit of the scene. There was a knock at the door, and
+an ugly, shabby woman, in a green tartan shawl, entered. She
+scrutinised the room sharply, then uttered a joyful cry of "Emanuel,
+my love!" and threw herself upon the handsome young man with an
+affectionate embrace. Emanuel, flushed and paralysed, was a ludicrous
+figure, and the workers tittered, not unfamiliar with marital
+_contretemps_.
+
+"Let me be," he said sullenly at last, as he untwined her dogged arms.
+"I tell you I won't have anything to do with you. It's no use."
+
+"Oh no, Emanuel, love, don't say that; not after all these months?"
+
+"Go away!" cried Emanuel hoarsely.
+
+"Be not so obstinate," she persisted, in wheedling accents, stroking
+his flaming cheeks. "Kiss little Joshua and little Miriam."
+
+Here the spectators became aware of two woebegone infants dragging at
+her skirts.
+
+"Go away!" repeated Emanuel passionately, and pushed her from him with
+violence.
+
+The ugly, shabby woman burst into hysterical tears.
+
+"My own husband, dear people," she sobbed, addressing the room. "My
+own husband--married to me in Poland five years ago. See, I have the
+_Cesubah_!" She half drew the marriage parchment from her bosom. "And
+he won't live with me! Every time he runs away from me. Last time I
+saw him was in Liverpool, on the eve of Tabernacles. And before that
+I had to go and find him in Newcastle, and he promised me never to go
+away again--yes, you did, you know you did, Emanuel, love. And here
+have I been looking weeks for you at all the furriers and tailors,
+without bread and salt for the children, and the Board of Guardians
+won't believe me, and blame me for coming to London. Oh, Emanuel,
+love, God shall forgive you."
+
+Her dress was dishevelled, her wig awry; big tears streamed down her
+cheeks.
+
+"How can I live with an old witch like that?" asked Emanuel, in brutal
+self-defence.
+
+"There are worse than me in the world," rejoined the woman meekly.
+
+"Nee, nee," roughly interposed the master-furrier, who had risen from
+his sofa in the excitement of the scene. "It is not beautiful not to
+live with one's wife." He paused to cough. "You must not put her to
+shame."
+
+"It's she who puts me to shame." Emanuel turned to Rachel, who had let
+her work slip to the floor, and whose face had grown white and stern,
+and continued deprecatingly, "I never wanted her. They caught me by a
+trick."
+
+"Don't talk to me," snapped Rachel, turning her back on him.
+
+The woman looked at her suspiciously--the girl's beauty seemed to
+burst upon her for the first time. "He is my husband," she repeated,
+and made as if she would draw out the _Cesubah_ again.
+
+"Nee, nee, enough!" said the master-furrier curtly. "You are wasting
+our time. Your husband shall live with you, or he shall not work with
+me."
+
+"You have deceived us, you rogue!" put in Flutter-Duck shrilly.
+
+"Did I ever say I was a single man?" retorted Emanuel, shrugging his
+shoulders.
+
+"There! He confesses it!" cried his wife in glee. "Come, Emanuel,
+love," and she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him
+passionately. "Do not be obstinate."
+
+"I can't come now," he said, with sulky facetiousness. "Where are you
+living?"
+
+She told him, and he said he would come when work was over.
+
+"On your faith?" she asked, with another uneasy glance at Rachel.
+
+"On my faith," he answered.
+
+She moved towards the door, with her draggle-tail of infants. As she
+was vanishing, he called shame-facedly to the departing children,--
+
+"Well, Joshua! Well, Miriam! Is this the way one treats a father? A
+nice way your mother has brought you up!"
+
+They came back to him dubiously, with unwashed, pathetic faces, and he
+kissed them. Rachel bent down to pick up her rabbit-skin. Work was
+resumed in dead silence.
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+FLIGHT.
+
+    "The goose flew this way and flew that,
+    And filled the house with clamour."
+
+        --TENNYSON: _The Goose_.
+
+Flutter-Duck could not resist rushing in to show the gorgeous goose
+she had bought from a man in the street--a most wonderful bargain.
+Although it was only a Wednesday, why should they not have a goose?
+They were at the thick of the busy season, and the winter promised to
+be bitter, so they could afford it.
+
+"Nee, nee; there are enough Festivals in our religion already,"
+grumbled her husband, who, despite his hacking cough, had been driven
+to the work-table by the plentifulness of work and the scarcity of
+"hands."
+
+"Almost as big a goose as herself!" whispered Emanuel Lefkovitch to
+his circle. He had made his peace with his wife, and was again become
+the centre of the work-room's gaiety. "What a bargain!" he said aloud,
+clucking his tongue with admiration. And Flutter-Duck, consoled for
+her husband's criticism, scurried out again to have her bargain killed
+by the official slaughterer.
+
+When she returned, doleful and indignant, with the goose still in her
+basket, and the news that the functionary had refused it Jewish
+execution, and pronounced it _tripha_ (unclean) for some minute ritual
+reason, she broke off her denunciation of the vendor from a sudden
+perception that some graver misfortune had happened in her absence.
+
+"Nee, nee," said Lewis, when she stopped her chatter. "Decidedly God
+will not have us make Festival to-day. Even you must work."
+
+"Me?" gasped Flutter-Duck.
+
+Then she learnt that Emanuel Lefkovitch, whom she had left so gay, had
+been taken with acute pains--and had had to go home. And work pressed,
+and Flutter-Duck must under-study him in all her spare moments. She
+was terribly vexed--she had arranged to go and see an old crony's
+daughter married in the Synagogue that afternoon, and she would have
+to give that up, if indeed her husband did not even expect her to give
+up the ball in the evening. She temporarily tethered the goose's leg
+to a bed-post by a long string, so that for the rest of the day the
+big bird waddled pompously about the floor and under the bed,
+unconscious to what or whom it owed its life, and blissfully unaware
+that it was _tripha_.
+
+"Nee, nee," sniggered Lewis, as Flutter-Duck savagely kicked the cat
+out of her way. "Don't be alarmed, Rebbitzin won't attack it.
+Rebbitzin is a better judge of _triphas_ than you."
+
+It was another cat, but it was the same joke.
+
+Flutter-Duck began to clean the fish with intensified viciousness. She
+had bought them as a substitute for the goose, and they were a
+constant reminder of her complex illhap. Very soon she cut her finger,
+and scoured the walls vainly in search of cobweb ligature. Bitter was
+her plaint of the servant's mismanagement; when she herself had looked
+after the house there had been no lack of cobwebs in the corners. Nor
+was this the end of Flutter-Duck's misfortunes. When, in the course of
+the afternoon, she sent up to Mrs. Levy on the second floor to remind
+her that she would be wanting her embroidered petticoat for the
+evening, answer came back that it was the anniversary of Mrs. Levy's
+mother's death, and she could not permit even her petticoat to go to a
+wedding. Finally, the gloves that Flutter-Duck borrowed from the
+chandler's wife were split at the thumbs. And so the servant was kept
+running to and fro, spoiling the neighbours for the greater glory of
+Flutter-Duck. It was only at the eleventh hour that an embroidered
+petticoat was obtained.
+
+Altogether there was electricity in the air, and Emanuel was not
+present to divert it down the road of jocularity. The furriers stitched
+sullenly, with a presentiment of storm. But it held over all day, and
+there was hope the currents would pass harmlessly away.
+
+With the rising of Flutter-Duck from the work-table, however, the
+first rumblings began. Lewis did not attempt to restrain her from her
+society dissipation, but he fumed inwardly throughout her toilette.
+More than ever he realised, as he sat coughing and bending over the
+ermine he was tufting with black spots, the incompatibility of this
+union between ant and butterfly, and occasionally his thought would
+shoot out in dry sarcasm. But Flutter-Duck had passed beyond the plane
+in which Lewis existed as her husband. All day she had talked freely,
+if a whit condescendingly, to her fellow-furriers, lamenting the
+mischances of the day; but in proportion as she began to get clean and
+beautiful, as the muslins of the great mirror became a frame for a
+gorgeous picture of a lady, Flutter-Duck grew more and more aloof from
+workaday interests, felt herself borne into a higher world of radiance
+and elegance, into a rarefied atmosphere of gentility, that froze her
+to statue-like frigidity.
+
+She was not Flutter-Duck then.
+
+And when she was quite dressed for the wedding, and had put on the
+earrings with the coloured stones and the crowning glory of the
+chignon of false plaits, stuck over with little artificial white
+flowers, the female neighbours came crowding into the work-room
+boudoir to see how she looked, and she revolved silently for their
+inspection like a dressmaker's figure, at most acknowledging their
+compliments with monosyllables. She had invited them to come and
+admire her appearance, but by the time they came she had grown too
+proud to speak to them. Even the women of whose finery she wore
+fragments, and who had contributed to her splendour, seemed to her
+poor dingy creatures, whose contact would sully her embroidered
+petticoat. In grotesque contrast with her peacock-like stateliness,
+the big _tripha_ goose began to get lively, cackling and flapping
+about within its radius, as if the soul of Flutter-Duck had passed
+into its body.
+
+The moment of departure had come. The cab stood at the street-door,
+and a composite crowd stood round the cab. In the Ghetto a cab has
+special significance, and Flutter-Duck would have to pass to hers
+through an avenue of polyglot commentators. At the last moment,
+adjusting her fleecy wrap over her head like any _grande dame_ (from
+whom she differed only in the modesty of her high bodice and her full
+sleeves), Flutter-Duck discovered that there was a great rent in one
+part of the wrap and a great stain in another. She uttered an
+exclamation of dismay--this seemed to her the climax of the day's
+misfortunes.
+
+"What shall I do? What shall I do?" she cried, her dignity almost
+melting in tears.
+
+The by-standers made sympathetic but profitless noises.
+
+"Oh, double it another way," jerked Rachel from the work-table. "Come
+here, I'll do it for you."
+
+"Are you too lazy to come here?" replied Flutter-Duck irritably.
+Rachel rose and went towards her, and rearranged the wrap.
+
+"Oh no, that won't do," complained Flutter-Duck, attitudinising before
+the glass. "It shows as bad as ever. Oh, what shall I do?"
+
+"Do you know what I'll tell you?" said her husband meditatively:
+"Don't go!"
+
+Flutter-Duck threw him a fiery look.
+
+"Oh well," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders and thrusting forward
+her lip contemptuously, "it'll have to do."
+
+"No, it won't--lend me your pink one."
+
+"I'm not going to have my pink one dirtied, too," grumbled Rachel.
+
+"Do you hear what I say?" exclaimed Flutter-Duck, with increasing
+wrath. "Give me the pink wrap! When the mother says is said!" And she
+looked around the group of spectators, in search of sympathy with her
+trials and admiration for her maternal dignity.
+
+"I can never keep anything for myself," said Rachel sullenly. "You
+never take care of anything."
+
+"I took care of you," screamed Flutter-Duck, goaded beyond endurance
+by the thought that her neighbours were witnessing this filial
+disrespect. "And a fat lot of good it's done me."
+
+"Yes, much care you take of me. You only think of enjoying yourself.
+It's young girls who ought to go out, not old women."
+
+"You impudent face!" And with an irresistible impulse of savagery, a
+reversion to the days of _Mediani_, Flutter-Duck swung round her arm,
+and struck Rachel violently on the cheek with her white-gloved hand.
+
+[Illustration: "'YOU IMPUDENT FACE!'"]
+
+The sound of the slap rang hollow and awful through the room.
+
+The workers looked up and paused, the neighbours held their breath;
+there was a dread silence, broken only by the hissings of the excited
+goose, and the half involuntary apologetic murmurings of
+Flutter-Duck's lips: "If I bin a mother, I bin a mother."
+
+For an instant Rachel's face was a white mask, on which five fingers
+stood out in fire; the next it was one burning mass of angry blood.
+She clenched her fist, as if about to strike her mother, then let the
+fingers relax; half from a relic of filial awe, half from respect for
+the finery. There was a peculiar light in her eyes. Without a word she
+turned slowly on her heel and walked into her little room, emerging,
+after an instant of general suspense, with the pink wrap in her
+hand. She gave it to her mother, without looking at her, and walked
+back to her work, and poor foolish Flutter-Duck, relieved, triumphant,
+and with an irreproachable head-wrap, passed majestically from the
+room, amid the buzz of the neighbours (who accompanied her downstairs
+with valedictory brushings of fur-fluff from her shoulders), through
+the avenue of polyglot commentators, into the waiting cab.
+
+All this time Flutter-Duck's husband had sat petrified, but now a
+great burst of coughing shook him. He did not know what to say or do,
+and prolonged the cough artificially to cover his embarrassment. Then
+he opened his mouth several times, but shut it indecisively. At last
+he said soothingly, with kindly clumsiness: "Nee, nee; you shouldn't
+irritate the mother, Rachel. You know what she is."
+
+Rachel's needle plodded on, and the uneasy silence resumed its sway.
+
+Presently Rachel rose, put down her piece of work finished, and
+without a word passed back to her bedroom, her beautiful figure erect
+and haughty. Lewis heard her key turn in the lock. The hours passed,
+and she did not return. Her father did not like to appear anxious
+before the "hands," but he had a discomforting vision of her lying on
+her bed, in a dumb agony of shame and rage. At last eight o'clock
+struck, and, backward as the work was, Lewis did not suggest overtime.
+He even dismissed the servant an hour before her time. He was in a
+fever of impatience, but delicacy had kept him from intruding on his
+daughter's grief before strangers. Now he hastened to her door, and
+knocked timidly, then loudly.
+
+"Nee, nee, Rachel," he cried, with sympathetic sternness, "Enough!"
+
+But a chill silence alone answered him.
+
+He burst open the rickety door, and saw a dark mass huddled up in the
+shadow on the bed. A nearer glance showed him it was only clothes. He
+opened the door that led on to Jacob's ladder, and called her name.
+Then by the light streaming in from the other apartment he hastily
+examined the room. It was obvious that she had put on her best
+clothes, and gone out.
+
+Half relieved, he returned to the sitting-room, leaving the door ajar,
+and recited his evening prayer. Then he began to prepare a little meal
+for himself, telling himself that she had gone for a walk, after her
+manner; perhaps was shaking off her depression at the Cambridge Music
+Hall. Supper over and grace said, he started doing the overwork, and
+then, when sheer weariness forced him to stop, he drew his comfortless
+wooden chair to the kitchen fire, and studied Rabbinical lore from a
+minutely printed folio.
+
+The Whitechapel Church clock, suddenly booming midnight, awoke him
+from these sacred subtleties with a start of alarm. Rachel had not
+returned.
+
+The fire burnt low. He shivered, and threw on some coal. Half an hour
+more he waited, listening for her footstep. Surely the music-hall must
+be closed by now. He crept down the stairs, and wandered vaguely into
+the cold, starless night, jostled by leering females, and returned
+forlorn and coughing. Then the thought flashed upon him that his girl
+had gone to her mother, had gone to fetch her from the wedding ball,
+and to make it up with her. Yes; that would be it. Hence the best
+clothes. It could be nothing else. He must not let any other thought
+get a hold on his mind. He would have run round to the festive scene,
+only he did not know precisely where it was, and it was too late to
+ask the neighbours.
+
+One o'clock!
+
+A mournful monotone, stern in its absoluteness, like the clang of a
+gate shutting out a lost soul.
+
+One more hour of aching suspense, scarcely dulled by the task of
+making hot coffee, and cutting bread and butter for his returning
+womankind; then Flutter-Duck came back. Alone!
+
+Came back in her cab, her fading features flushed with the joy of
+life, with the artificial flowers in her false chignon, and the pink
+wrap over her head.
+
+"Where is Rachel?" gasped poor Lewis, meeting her at the street-door.
+
+"Rachel! isn't she here? I left her with you," answered Flutter-Duck,
+half sobered.
+
+"Merciful God!" ejaculated her husband, and put his hand to his
+breast, pierced by a shooting pain.
+
+"I left her with you," repeated Flutter-Duck with white lips. "Why did
+you let her go out? Why didn't you look after her?"
+
+"Silence, you sinful mother!" cried Lewis. "You shamed her before
+strangers, and she has gone out--to drown herself--what do I know?"
+
+Flutter-Duck burst into hysterical sobbing.
+
+"Yes, take her part against me! You always make me out wrong."
+
+"Restrain yourself!" he whispered imperiously. "Do you wish to have
+the neighbours hear you again?"
+
+"I daresay she's only hiding somewhere, sulking, as she did when a
+child," said Flutter-Duck. "Have you looked under the bed?"
+
+Foolish as he knew her words were, they gave him a gleam of hope. He
+led the way upstairs without answering, and taking a candle, examined
+her bedroom again with ludicrous minuteness. This time the sight of
+her old clothes was comforting; if she had wanted to drown herself,
+she would not--he reasoned with perhaps too masculine a logic--have
+taken her best clothes to spoil. With a sudden thought he displaced
+the hearthstone. He had early discovered where she kept her savings,
+though he had neither tampered with them nor betrayed his knowledge.
+The tin box was broken open, empty! In the drawers there was not a
+single article of her jewellery. Rachel had evidently left home! She
+had gone by way of Jacob's ladder--secretly.
+
+Prostrated by the discovery, the parents sat down in helpless silence.
+Then Flutter-Duck began to wring her white-gloved hands, and to babble
+incoherent suggestions and reproaches, and protestations that she was
+not to blame. The hot coffee cooled untasted, the pink wrap lay
+crumpled on the floor.
+
+Lewis revolved the situation rapidly. What could be done? Evidently
+nothing--for that night at least. Even the police could do nothing
+till the morning, and to call them in at all would be to publish the
+scandal to the whole world. Rachel had gone to some lodging--there
+could be no doubt about that. And yet he could not go to bed, his
+heart still expected her, though his brain had given up hope. He
+walked about restlessly, racked by fits of coughing, then he dropped
+back into his seat before the decaying fire. And Flutter-Duck,
+frightened into silence at last, sat on the sofa, dazed, in her
+trappings and gewgaws, with the white flowers glistening in her false
+hair, and her pallid cheeks stained with tears.
+
+And so they waited in the uncouth room in the solemn watches of the
+night, pricking up their ears at a rare footstep in the street, and
+hastening to peep out of the window; waiting for the knock that came
+not, and the dawn that was distant. The silence lay upon them like a
+pall.
+
+Suddenly, in the weird stillness, they heard a fluttering and a
+skurrying, and, looking up, they saw a great white thing floating
+through the room. Flutter-Duck uttered a terrible cry. "Hear, O
+Israel!" she shrieked.
+
+"Nee, nee," said Lewis reassuringly, though scarcely less startled.
+"It is only the _tripha_ goose got loose."
+
+"Nay, nay, it is the Devil!" hoarsely whispered Flutter-Duck, who had
+covered her face with her hands, and was shaking as with palsy.
+
+Her terror communicated itself to her husband. "Hush, hush! Talk not
+so," he said, shivering with indefinable awe.
+
+"Say psalms, say psalms!" panted Flutter-Duck. "Drive him out."
+
+Lewis opened the window, but the unclean bird showed no desire to
+flit. It was evidently the Not-Good-One himself.
+
+"Hear, O Israel!" wailed Flutter-Duck. "Since he came in this morning
+everything has been upside down."
+
+The goose chuckled.
+
+Lewis was seized with a fell terror that gave him a mad courage.
+Murmuring a holy phrase, he grabbed at the goose, which eluded him,
+and fluttered flappingly hither and thither. Lewis gave chase, his
+lips praying mechanically. At last he caught it by a wing, haled it,
+hissing and struggling and uttering rasping cries, to the window,
+flung it without, and closed the sash with a bang. Then he fell
+impotent against the work-table, and spat out a mouthful of blood.
+
+"God be praised!" said Flutter-Duck, slowly uncovering her eyes. "Now
+Rachel will come back."
+
+And with renewed hope they waited on, and the deathly silence again
+possessed the room.
+
+All at once they heard a light step under the window; the father threw
+it open and saw a female form outlined in the darkness. There was a
+rat-tat-tat at the door.
+
+"Ah, there she is!" hysterically ejaculated Flutter-Duck, starting up.
+
+"The Holy One be blessed!" cried Lewis, rushing down the stairs.
+
+A strange figure, the head covered by a green tartan shawl, greeted
+him. A cold ague passed over his limbs.
+
+"Thank God, it's all right," said Mrs. Lefkovitch. "I see from your
+light you are still working; but isn't it time my Emanuel left off?"
+
+"Your Emanuel?" gasped Lewis, with a terrible suspicion. "He went home
+early in the day; he was taken ill."
+
+Flutter-Duck, who had crept at his heels bearing a candle, cried out,
+"God in Israel! She has flown away with Emanuel."
+
+"Hush, you piece of folly!" whispered Lewis furiously.
+
+"Yes, it was already arranged, and you blamed me!" gasped
+Flutter-Duck, with a last instinct of self-defence ere consciousness
+left her, and she fell forward.
+
+"Silence," Lewis began, but there was an awful desolation at his heart
+and the salt of blood was in his mouth as he caught the falling form.
+The candlestick rolled to the ground, and the group was left in the
+heavy shadows of the staircase and the cold blast from the open door.
+
+"God have mercy on me and the poor children! I knew all along it would
+come to that!" wailed Emanuel's wife.
+
+"And I advanced him his week's money on Monday," Lewis remembered in
+the agony of the moment.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+POOR FLUTTER-DUCK.
+
+    "Her cap blew off, her gown blew up,
+    And a whirlwind cleared the larder."
+
+        --TENNYSON: _The Goose_.
+
+It was New Year's Eve.
+
+In the Ghetto, where "the evening and the morning are one day," New
+Year's Eve is at its height at noon. The muddy market-places roar, and
+the joyous medley of squeezing humanity moves slowly through the crush
+of mongers, pickpockets, and beggars. It is one of those festival
+occasions on which even those who have migrated from the Ghetto
+gravitate back to purchase those dainties whereof the heathen have not
+the secret, and to look again upon the old familiar scene. There is a
+stir of goodwill and gaiety, a reconciliation of old feuds in view of
+the solemn season of repentance, and a washing-down of enmities in
+rum.
+
+At the point where the two main market-streets met, a grey-haired
+elderly woman stood and begged.
+
+Poor Flutter-Duck!
+
+Her husband dead, after a protracted illness that frittered away his
+savings; her daughter lost; her home a mattress in the corner of a
+strange family's garret; her faded prettiness turned to ugliness: her
+figure thin and wasted; her yellow-wrinkled face framed in a frowsy
+shawl; her clothes tattered and flimsy; Flutter-Duck stood and
+_schnorred_.
+
+But Flutter-Duck did not do well. Her feather-head was not equal to
+the demands of her profession. She had selected what was ostensibly
+the coign of most vantage, forgetting that though everybody in the
+market must pass her station, they would already have been mulcted in
+the one street or the other.
+
+[Illustration: MARKET-DAY IN THE GHETTO.]
+
+But she held out her hand pertinaciously, appealing to every passer-by
+of importance, and throwing audible curses after those that ignored
+her. The cold of the bleak autumn day and the apathy of the public
+chilled her to the bone; the tears came into her eyes as she thought
+of all her misery and of the happy time--only a couple of years
+ago--when New Year meant new dresses. Only a grey fringe--the last
+vanity of pauperdom--remained of all her fashionableness. No more the
+plaited chignon, the silk gown, the triple necklace,--the
+dazzling exterior that made her too proud to speak to admiring
+neighbours,--only hunger and cold and mockery and loneliness. No
+plumes could she borrow, now that she really needed them to cover her
+nakedness. She who had reigned over a work-room, who had owned a
+husband and a marriageable daughter, who had commanded a maid-servant,
+who had driven in shilling cabs!
+
+Oh, if she could only find her daughter--that lost creature by whose
+wedding-canopy she should have stood, radiant, the envy of Montague
+Street! But this was not a thought of to-day. It was at the bottom of
+all her thoughts always, ever since that fatal night. During the first
+year she was always on the lookout, peering into every woman's face,
+running after every young couple that looked like Emanuel and Rachel.
+But repeated disappointment dulled her. She had no energy for anything
+except begging. Yet the hope of finding Rachel was the gleam of
+idealism that kept her soul alive.
+
+The hours went by, but the streams of motley pedestrians and the babel
+of vociferous vendors and chattering buyers did not slacken. Females
+were in the great majority, housewives from far and near foraging for
+Festival supplies. In vain Flutter-Duck wished them "A Good Sealing."
+It seemed as if her own Festival would be black and bitter as the
+Feast of Ab.
+
+But she continued to hold out her bloodless hand. Towards three
+o'clock a fine English lady, in a bonnet, passed by, carrying a
+leather bag.
+
+"Grant me a halfpenny, lady, dear! May you be written down for a good
+year!"
+
+The beautiful lady paused, startled. Then Flutter-Duck's heart gave a
+great leap of joy. The impossible had happened at last. Behind the
+veil shone the face of Rachel--a face of astonishment and horror.
+
+"Rachel!" she shrieked, tottering.
+
+"Mother!" cried Rachel, catching her by the arm. "What are you doing
+here? What has happened?"
+
+"Do not touch me, sinful girl!" answered Flutter-Duck, shaking her off
+with a tragic passion that gave dignity to the grotesque figure. Now
+that Rachel was there in the flesh, the remembrance of her shame
+surged up, drowning everything. "You have disgraced the mother who
+bore you and the father who gave you life."
+
+The fine English lady--her whole soul full of sudden remorse at the
+sight of her mother's incredible poverty, shrank before the blazing
+eyes. The passers-by imagined Rachel had refused the beggar-woman
+alms.
+
+"What have I done?" she faltered.
+
+"Where is Emanuel?"
+
+"Emanuel!" repeated Rachel, puzzled.
+
+"Emanuel Lefkovitch that you ran away with."
+
+"Mother, are you mad? I have never seen him. I am married."
+
+"Married!" gasped Flutter-Duck ecstatically. Then a new dread rose to
+her mind. "To a Christian?"
+
+"Me marry a Christian! The idea!"
+
+Flutter-Duck fell a-sobbing on the fine lady's fur jacket. "And you
+never ran away with Lefkovitch?"
+
+"Me take another woman's leavings? Well, upon my word!"
+
+"Oh," sobbed Flutter-Duck. "Oh, if your father could only have lived
+to know the truth!"
+
+Rachel's remorse became heartrending. "Is father dead?" she murmured
+with white lips. After awhile she drew her mother out of the babel,
+and giving her the bag to carry to save appearances, she walked slowly
+towards Liverpool Street, and took train with her for her pretty
+little cottage near Epping Forest.
+
+Rachel's story was as simple as her mother's. After the showing up of
+Emanuel's duplicity, home had no longer the least attraction for her.
+Her nascent love for the migratory husband changed to a loathing that
+embraced the whole Ghetto in which such things were possible. Weary of
+Flutter-Duck's follies, indifferent to her father, she had long
+meditated joining her West-end girl-friend in the fur establishment in
+Regent Street, but the blow precipitated matters. She felt she could
+not remain a night more under her mother's roof, and her father's
+clumsy comment was but salt on her wound. Her heart was hard against
+both; month after month passed before her passionate, sullen nature
+would let her dwell on the thought of their trouble, and even then she
+felt that the motive of her flight was so plain that they would feel
+only remorse, not anxiety. They knew she could always earn her living,
+just as she knew they could always earn theirs. Living "in," and going
+out but rarely, and then in the fashionable districts, she never met
+any drift from the Ghetto, and the busy life of the populous
+establishment soon effaced the old, which faded to a forgotten dream.
+One day the chief provincial traveller of the house saw her, fell in
+love, married her, and took her about the country for six months. He
+was coming back to her that very evening for the New Year. She had
+gone back to the Ghetto that day to buy New Year honey, and, softened
+by time and happiness, rather hoped to stumble across her mother in
+the market-place, and so save the submission of a call. She never
+dreamed of death and poverty. She would not blame herself for her
+father's death--he had always been consumptive--but since death was
+come at last, it was lucky she could offer her mother a home. Her
+husband would be delighted to find a companion for his wife during his
+country rounds.
+
+"So you see, mother, everything is for the best."
+
+Flutter-Duck listened in a delicious daze.
+
+What! Was everything then to end happily after all? Was she--the
+shabby old starveling--to be restored to comfort and fine clothes? Her
+brain seemed bursting with the thought of so much happiness; as the
+train flew along past green grass and autumn-tinted foliage, she
+strove to articulate a prayer of gratitude to Heaven, but she only
+mumbled "_Mediani_," and lapsed into silence. And then, suddenly
+remembering she had started a prayer and must finish it, she murmured
+again "_Mediani_."
+
+When they came to the grand house with the front garden, and were
+admitted by a surprised maid-servant, infinitely nattier than any
+Flutter-Duck had ever ruled over, the poor creature was palsied with
+excess of bliss. The fire was blazing merrily in the luxurious
+parlour: could this haven of peace and pomp--these arm-chairs, those
+vases, that side-board--be really for her? Was she to spend her New
+Year's night surrounded by love and luxury, instead of huddling in the
+corner of a cold garret?
+
+And as soon as Rachel had got her mother installed in a wonderful
+easy-chair, she hastened with all the eagerness of maternal pride,
+with all the enthusiasm of remorse, to throw open the folding-doors
+that led to her bedroom, so as to give Flutter-Duck the crowning
+surprise--the secret titbit she had reserved for the grand climax.
+
+"There's a fine boy!" she cried.
+
+And as Flutter-Duck caught sight of the little red face peeping out
+from the snowy draperies of the cradle, a rapture too great to bear
+seemed almost to snap something within her foolish, overwrought brain.
+
+"I have already a grandchild!" she shrieked, with a great sob of
+ecstasy; and, running to the cradle-side, she fell on her knees, and
+covered the little red face with frantic kisses, repeating "Lewis
+love, Lewis love, Lewis love," till the babe screamed, and Rachel had
+to tear the babbling creature away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+You may see her almost any day walking in the Ghetto market-place--a
+meagre, old figure, with a sharp-featured face and a plaited chignon.
+She dresses richly in silk, and her golden earrings are set with
+coloured stones, and her bonnet is of the latest fashion. She lives
+near Epping Forest, and almost always goes home to tea. Sometimes she
+stands still at the point where the two market streets meet, extending
+vacantly a gloved hand, but for the most part she wanders about the
+by-streets and alleys of Whitechapel with an anxious countenance,
+peering at every woman she meets, and following every young couple.
+"If I could only find her!" she thinks yearningly.
+
+Nobody knows whom she is looking for, but everybody knows she is only
+"Flutter-Duck."
+
+
+
+
+MACMILLAN'S DOLLAR SERIES OF WORKS BY POPULAR AUTHORS.
+
+_Crown 8vo. Cloth extra. $1.00 each._
+
+
+BY F. MARION CRAWFORD.
+
+With the solitary exception of Mrs. Oliphant, we have no living
+novelist more distinguished for variety of theme and range of
+imaginative outlook than Mr. Marion Crawford.--_Spectator._
+
+  THE CHILDREN OF THE KING.
+  DON ORSINO.
+  MR. ISAACS: A Tale of Modern India.
+  DR. CLAUDIUS: A True Story.
+  ZOROASTER.
+  A TALE OF A LONELY PARISH.
+  SARACINESCA. A New Novel.
+  MARZIO'S CRUCIFIX.
+  WITH THE IMMORTALS.
+  GREIFENSTEIN.
+  SANT' ILARIO.
+  A CIGARETTE-MAKER'S ROMANCE.
+  KHALED: A Tale of Arabia.
+  THE WITCH OF PRAGUE. With numerous Illustrations by W. J. HENNESSY.
+  THE THREE FATES.
+
+
+BY CHARLES DICKENS.
+
+It would be difficult to imagine a better edition of Dickens at the
+price than that which is now appearing in Macmillan's Series of Dollar
+Novels.--_Boston Beacon._
+
+  THE PICKWICK PAPERS. 50 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  OLIVER TWIST. 27 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 44 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 41 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. 97 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  BARNABY RUDGE. 76 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  SKETCHES BY BOZ. 44 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  DOMBEY AND SON. 40 Illustrations. (_Ready._)
+  CHRISTMAS BOOKS. 65 Illustrations. (_December._)
+  DAVID COPPERFIELD. 41 Illustrations.(_January._)
+  AMERICAN NOTES, AND PICTURES FROM ITALY. 4 Illustrations. (_Feb._)
+
+
+BY CHARLES KINGSLEY.
+
+  ALTON LOCKE.
+  HEREWARD.
+  HEROES.
+  WESTWARD HO!
+  HYPATIA.
+  TWO YEARS AGO.
+  WATER BABIES. Illustrated.
+  YEAST.
+
+
+BY HENRY JAMES.
+
+He has the power of seeing with the artistic perception of the few,
+and of writing about what he has seen, so that the many can understand
+and feel with him.--_Saturday Review._
+
+  THE LESSON OF THE MASTER AND OTHER STORIES.
+  THE REVERBERATOR.
+  THE ASPEN PAPERS AND OTHER STORIES.
+  A LONDON LIFE.
+
+
+BY ANNIE KEARY.
+
+In our opinion there have not been many novels published better worth
+reading. The literary workmanship is excellent, and all the windings
+of the stories are worked with patient fulness and a skill not often
+found.--_Spectator._
+
+  JANET'S HOME.
+  CLEMENCY FRANKLYN.
+  A DOUBTING HEART.
+  THE HEROES OF ASGARD.
+  A YORK AND LANCASTER ROSE.
+
+
+BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY.
+
+Few modern novelists can tell a story of English country life better
+than Mr. D. Christie Murray.--_Spectator._
+
+  AUNT RACHEL.
+  THE WEAKER VESSEL.
+  SCHWARZ.
+
+
+BY MRS. OLIPHANT.
+
+Has the charm of style, the literary quality and flavour that never
+fails to please.--_Saturday Review._
+
+At her best she is, with one or two exceptions, the best of living
+English novelists.--_Academy._
+
+  A SON OF THE SOIL. New Edition.
+  THE CURATE IN CHARGE. New Edition.
+  YOUNG MUSGRAVE. New Edition.
+  HE THAT WILL NOT WHEN HE MAY. New and Cheaper Edition.
+  SIR TOM. New Edition.
+  HESTER. A Story of Contemporary Life.
+  THE WIZARD'S SON. New Edition.
+  A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN AND HIS FAMILY. New Edition.
+  NEIGHBOURS ON THE GREEN. New Edition.
+  AGNES HOPETOUN'S SCHOOLS AND HOLIDAYS. With Illustrations.
+
+
+BY J. H. SHORTHOUSE.
+
+Powerful, striking, and fascinating romances.--_Anti-Jacobin._
+
+  BLANCHE, LADY FALAISE.
+  JOHN INGLESANT.
+  SIR PERCIVAL.
+  THE COUNTESS EVE.
+  A TEACHER OF THE VIOLIN.
+  THE LITTLE SCHOOLMASTER MARK.
+
+
+BY MRS. CRAIK.
+
+(The Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman.")
+
+  LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY.
+  ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE.
+  ALICE LEARMONT.
+  OUR YEAR.
+
+
+BY MRS. HUMPHRY WARD.
+
+Mrs. Ward, with her "Robert Elsmere" and "David Grieve," has
+established with extraordinary rapidity an enduring reputation as one
+who has expressed what is deepest and most real in the thought of the
+time.... They are dramas of the time vitalized by the hopes, fears,
+doubts, and despairing struggles after higher ideals which are swaying
+the minds of men and women of this generation.--_New York Tribune._
+
+  ROBERT ELSMERE.
+  THE HISTORY OF DAVID GRIEVE.
+  MILLY AND OLLY.
+
+
+BY RUDYARD KIPLING.
+
+Every one knows that it is not easy to write good short stories. Mr.
+Kipling has changed all that. Here are forty of them, averaging less
+than eight pages apiece; there is not a dull one in the lot. Some are
+tragedy, some broad comedy, some tolerably sharp satire. The time has
+passed to ignore or undervalue Mr. Kipling. He has won his spurs and
+taken his prominent place in the arena. This, as the legitimate
+edition, should be preferred to the pirated ones by all such as care
+for honesty in letters.--_Churchman_, New York.
+
+  PLAIN TALES FROM THE HILLS.
+  LIFE'S HANDICAP.
+
+
+BY AMY LEVY.
+
+  REUBEN SACHS.
+
+
+BY M. McLENNAN.
+
+  MUCKLE JOCK, AND OTHER STORIES.
+
+
+BY THOMAS HUGHES.
+
+  TOM BROWN'S SCHOOLDAYS. Illustrated.
+  RUGBY, TENNESSEE.
+
+
+BY ROLF BOLDREWOOD.
+
+Mr. Boldrewood can tell what he knows with great point and vigour, and
+there is no better reading than the adventurous parts of his
+books.--_Saturday Review._
+
+  ROBBERY UNDER ARMS.
+  NEVERMORE.
+  SYDNEY-SIDE SAXON.
+
+
+BY SIR HENRY CUNNINGHAM, K.C.I.E.
+
+Interesting as specimens of romance, the style of writing is so
+excellent--scholarly and at the same time easy and natural--that the
+volumes are worth reading on that account alone. But there is also
+masterly description of persons, places, and things; skilful analysis
+of character; a constant play of wit and humour; and a happy gift of
+instantaneous portraiture.--_St. James's Gazette._
+
+THE COERULEANS: A VACATION IDYLL.
+
+
+BY GEORGE GISSING.
+
+We earnestly commend the book for its high literary merit, its deep
+bright interest, and for the important and healthful lessons that it
+teaches.--_Boston Home Journal._
+
+  DENZIL QUARRIER.
+  THE ODD WOMEN.
+
+
+BY W. CLARK RUSSELL.
+
+The descriptions are wonderfully realistic ... and the breath of the
+ocean is over and through every page. The plot is very novel indeed,
+and is developed with skill and tact. Altogether one of the cleverest
+and most entertaining of Mr. Russell's many works.--_Boston Times._
+
+  A STRANGE ELOPEMENT.
+
+
+BY THE HON. EMILY LAWLESS.
+
+It is a charming story, full of natural life, fresh in style and
+thought, pure in tone, and refined in feeling.--_Nineteenth Century._
+
+A strong and original story. It is marked by originality, freshness,
+insight, a rare graphic power, and as rare a psychological perception.
+It is in fact a better story than "Hurrish," and that is saying a good
+deal.--_New York Tribune._
+
+  GRANIA: THE STORY OF AN ISLAND.
+
+
+BY A NEW AUTHOR.
+
+We should not be surprised if this should prove to be the most popular
+book of the present season; it cannot fail to be one of the most
+remarkable.--_Literary World._
+
+TIM: A STORY OF SCHOOL LIFE.
+
+
+BY LANOE FALCONER.
+
+(Author of "Mademoiselle Ixe.")
+
+It is written with cleverness and brightness, and there is so much
+human nature in it that the attention of the reader is held to the
+end.... The book shows far greater powers than were evident in
+"Mademoiselle Ixe," and if the writer who is hidden behind the _nom de
+guerre_ Lanoe Falconer goes on, she is likely to make for herself no
+inconsiderable name in fiction.--_Boston Courier._
+
+  CECILIA DE NOEL.
+
+
+BY THE REV. PROF. ALFRED J. CHURCH.
+
+Rev. Alfred J. Church, M.A., has long been doing valiant service in
+literature in presenting his stories of the early centuries, so clear
+is his style and so remarkable his gift of enfolding historical events
+and personages with the fabric of a romance, entertaining and
+oftentimes fascinating.... One has the feeling that he is reading an
+accurate description of real scenes, that the characters are
+living--so masterly is Professor Church's ability to reclothe history
+and make it as interesting as a romance.--_Boston Times._
+
+  STORIES FROM THE GREEK COMEDIANS.
+    ARISTOPHANES. PHILEMON.
+    DIPHILUS. MENANDER. APOLLODORUS.
+     _With Sixteen Illustrations after the Antique._
+    THE STORY OF THE ILIAD.
+     With Coloured Illustrations.
+    THE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY.
+     With Coloured Illustrations.
+  THE BURNING OF ROME.
+
+
+BY MRS. F. A. STEEL.
+
+The story is a delightful one, with a good plot, an abundance of
+action and incident, well and naturally drawn characters, excellent in
+sentiment, and with a good ending. Its interest begins with the
+opening paragraph, and is well sustained to the end. Mrs. Steel
+touches all her stories with the hand of a master, and she is yet to
+write one that is any way dull or uninteresting.--_The Christian at
+Work._
+
+  MISS STUART'S LEGACY.
+
+
+BY PAUL CUSHING.
+
+... A first-class detective story. Not a detective story of the
+ordinary blood-and-thunder kind, but a really good story, that is told
+in a vigorous and attractive way.... It is full of incident and
+especially good dialogue. The people in it really talk. The story is
+well worth reading.--_Commercial Gazette._
+
+  THE GREAT CHIN EPISODE.
+
+
+BY MARY A. DICKENS.
+
+Felicitous in style and simple enough in plot, it is powerfully vivid
+and dramatic, and well sustains the interest throughout.... There is a
+vein of grave pleasantry in the earlier portion of the work, which has
+to be abandoned as the tragic portion of it develops; but it is
+sufficient to show that the writer possesses the charm of pleasant
+recital when she wishes to exert it, as becomes her father's
+daughter.--_The Catholic World._
+
+A MERE CYPHER.
+
+
+BY MARY WEST.
+
+The novel is admirably written. It has not only distinction of style,
+but intellectual quality of an exceptionable order; and while the
+treatment is never didactic, questions of ethical import come
+naturally into evidence, and are dealt with in a decisive way.... A
+remarkably well-executed piece of fiction.--_Utica News._
+
+A BORN PLAYER.
+
+
+BY THE MARCHESA THEODOLI.
+
+A thoroughly pleasing and unpretentious story of modern Rome. The
+pictures of home life in the princely Astalli family are most curious
+and interesting; while the reader's sympathy with the charming and
+delicate romance of the book, ending happily at last, in the face of
+apparently insurmountable obstacles, will be readily enlisted from its
+inception.--_The Art Amateur._
+
+  UNDER PRESSURE.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The King of Schnorrers, by Israel Zangwill
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING OF SCHNORRERS ***
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