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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c77563d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54761 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54761) diff --git a/old/54761-0.txt b/old/54761-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a1bc014..0000000 --- a/old/54761-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5600 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Children of Men, by Rudolph Edgar Block - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Children of Men - - -Author: Rudolph Edgar Block - - - -Release Date: May 23, 2017 [eBook #54761] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF MEN*** - - -E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 54761-h.htm or 54761-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/54761/54761-h/54761-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/54761/54761-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/childrenofmen00lessrich - - -Transcriber’s note: - - Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). - - - - - -CHILDREN OF MEN - - -[Illustration: “‘_The sheep are coming! They’re coming over the hill! -Watch, Liebchen; watch, precious!_’”] - - -CHILDREN OF MEN - -by - -BRUNO LESSING - - -[Illustration: ALDI DISCIP AMERICANVS] - - - “_For He doth not afflict willingly - nor grieve the children of men._” - - - - - - -New York -Mcclure, Phillips & Co. -MCMIII - -Copyright, 1903, by -McClure, Phillips & Co. - -Copyright, 1903, by S. S. McClure Co. - -Published, September, 1903 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - THE END OF THE TASK, 3 - - THE SADER GUEST, 33 - - A RIFT IN THE CLOUD, 43 - - OUT OF HIS ORBIT, 51 - - THE POISONED CHAI, 67 - - URIM AND THUMMIM, 81 - - A YIDDISH IDYLL, 91 - - THE STORY OF SARAI, 99 - - THE AMERICANISATION OF SHADRACH COHEN, 107 - - HANNUKAH LIGHTS, 125 - - A SWALLOW-TAILER FOR TWO, 139 - - DEBORAH, 155 - - AN INTERRUPTION, 167 - - THE MURDERER, 181 - - UNCONVERTED, 195 - - WITHOUT FEAR OF GOD, 207 - - THE SUN OF WISDOM, 217 - - A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL, 231 - - THE MESSAGE OF ARCTURUS, 245 - - QUEER SCHARENSTEIN, 259 - - THE COMPACT, 273 - - A SONG OF SONGS, 285 - - A WEDDING IN DURESS, 299 - - - - - THE END OF THE TASK - - - I - -The sewing-machines whirred like a thousand devils. You have no idea -what a noise thirty sewing-machines will make when they are running at -full speed. Each machine is made up of dozens of little wheels and cogs -and levers and ratchets, and each part tries to pound, scrape, squeak -and bang and roar louder than all the others. The old man who went crazy -last year in this very same shop used to sit in the cell where they -chained him, with his fingers in his ears, to keep out the noise of the -sewing-machines. He said the incessant din was eating into his brains, -and, time and again, he tried to dash out those poor brains against the -padded wall. - -The sewing-machines whirred and roared and clicked, and the noise -drowned every other sound. Braun finished garment after garment and -arranged them in a pile beside his machine. When there were twenty in -the pile he paused in his work—if your eyes were shut you would never -have known that one machine had stopped—and he carried the garments to -the counter, where the marker gave him a ticket for them. Then he -returned to his machine. This was the routine of his daily labour from -seven o’clock in the morning until seven o’clock at night. The only -deviation from this routine occurred when Lizschen laid the twentieth -garment that she had finished upon her pile and Braun saw her fragile -figure stoop to raise the pile. Then his machine would stop, in two -strides he would be at her side, and with a smile he would carry the -garments to the counter for her and bring her the ticket for them. -Lizschen would cease working to watch him, and when he handed her the -ticket she would smile at him, and sometimes, when no one was looking, -she would seize his hand and press it tightly against her cheek—oh! so -tightly, as if she were drowning, and that hand were a rock of safety. -And, when she resumed her work, a tear would roll slowly over the very -spot where his hand had rested, tremble for an instant upon her pale -cheek, and then fall upon the garment where the needle would sew it -firmly into the seam. But you never would have known that two machines -had stopped for a moment; there were twenty-eight others to keep up the -roaring and the rattling and the hum. - -On and on they roared. There was no other sound to conflict with or to -vary the monotony. At each machine sat a human being working with hand, -foot, and eye, watching the flashing needle, guarding the margin of the -seams, jerking the cloth hither and thither quickly, accurately, -watching the spool to see that the thread ran freely, oiling the gear -with one hand while the other continued to push the garment rapidly -under the needle, the whole body swaying, bending, twisting this way and -that to keep time and pace with the work. Every muscle of the body -toiled, but the mind was free—free as a bird to fly from that -suffocating room out to green fields and woods and flowers. And Braun -was thinking. - -Linder had told him of a wonderful place where beautiful pictures could -be looked at for nothing. It was probably untrue. Linder was not above -lying. Braun had been in this country six long years, and in all that -time he had never found anything that could be had for nothing. Yet -Linder said he had seen them. Paintings in massive gold frames, real, -solid gold, and such paintings! Woodland scenes and oceans and ships and -cattle and mountains, and beautiful ladies—such pictures as the -theatrical posters and the lithograph advertisements on the streets -displayed, only these were real. And it cost nothing to look at them! - -Nineteen—twenty! That completed the pile. It had taken about an hour, -and he had earned seven cents. He carried the pile to the counter, -received his ticket, and returned to his machine, stopping only to smile -at Lizschen, who had finished but half a pile in that time, and who -looked so white and tired, yet smiled so sweetly at him—then on with his -work and thoughts. - -He would take Lizschen to see them. It was probably all a lie, but the -place was far, far uptown, near Madison Square—Braun had never been -north of Houston Street—and the walk might do Lizschen good. He would -say nothing to her about the pictures until he came to the place and -found out for himself if Linder had told the truth. Otherwise the -disappointment might do her harm. - -Poor Lizschen! A feeling of wild, blind rage overwhelmed Braun for an -instant, then passed away, leaving his frame rigid and his teeth tightly -clenched. While it lasted he worked like an automaton, seeing nothing, -hearing nothing, feeling nothing save a chaotic tumult in his heart and -brain that could find no vent in words, no audible expression save in a -fierce outcry against fate—resistless, remorseless fate. A few months -ago these attacks had come upon him more frequently, and had lasted for -hours, leaving him exhausted and ill. But they had become rarer and less -violent; there is no misfortune to which the human mind cannot -ultimately become reconciled. Lizschen was soon to die. Braun had -rebelled; his heart and soul, racked almost beyond endurance, had cried -out against the horror, the injustice, the wanton cruelty, of his -brown-eyed, pale-cheeked Lizschen wasting away to death before his eyes. -But there was no hope, and he had gradually become reconciled. The -physician at the public dispensary had told him she might live a month -or she might live a year longer, he could not foretell more accurately, -but of ultimate recovery there was no hope on earth. And Braun’s -rebellious outbursts against cruel fate had become rarer and rarer. Do -not imagine that these emotions had ever shaped themselves in so many -words, or that he had attempted by any process of reasoning to argue the -matter with himself or to see vividly what it all meant, what horrible -ordeal he was passing through, or what the future held in store for him. -From his tenth year until his twentieth Braun had worked in factories in -Russia, often under the lash. He was twenty-six, and his six years in -this country had been spent in sweatshops. Such men do not formulate -thoughts in words: they feel dumbly, like dogs and horses. - - - II - -The day’s work was done. Braun and Lizschen were walking slowly uptown, -hand in hand, attracting many an inquiring, half-pitying glance. She was -so white, he so haggard and wild-eyed. It was a delightful spring night, -the air was balmy and soothing, and Lizschen coughed less than she had -for several days. Braun had spoken of a picture he had once seen in a -shop-window in Russia. Lizschen’s eyes had become animated. - -“They are so wonderful, those painters,” she said. “With nothing but -brushes they put colours together until you can see the trees moving in -the breeze, and almost imagine you hear the birds in them.” - -“I don’t care much for trees,” said Braun, “or birds either. I like -ships and battle pictures where people are doing something great.” - -“Maybe that is because you have always lived in cities,” said Lizschen. -“When I was a girl I lived in the country, near Odessa, and oh, how -beautiful the trees were and how sweet the flowers! And I used to sit -under a tree and look at the woods across the valley all day long. Ah, -if I could only——!” - -She checked herself and hoped that Braun had not heard. But he had heard -and his face had clouded. He, too, had wished and wished and wished -through many a sleepless night, and now he could easily frame the -unfinished thought in Lizschen’s mind. If he could send her to the -country, to some place where the air was warm and dry, perhaps her days -might be prolonged. But he could not. He had to work and she had to -work, and he had to look on and watch her toiling, toiling, day after -day, without end, without hope. The alternative was to starve. - -They came to the place that Linder had described, and, surely enough, -before them rose a huge placard announcing that admission to the -exhibition of paintings was free. The pictures were to be sold at public -auction at the end of the week, and for several nights they were on -inspection. The young couple stood outside the door a while, watching -the people who were going in and coming out; then Braun said: - -“Come, Lizschen, let us go in. It is free.” - -Lizschen drew back timidly. “They will not let people like us go in. It -is for nobility.” But Braun drew her forward. - -“They can do no more than ask us to go out,” he said. “Besides, I would -like to have a glimpse of the paintings.” - -With many misgivings Lizschen followed him into the building, and found -herself in a large hall, brilliantly illuminated, walled in with -paintings whose gilt frames shone like fiery gold in the bright light of -numerous electric lamps. For a moment the sight dazzled her, and she -gasped for breath. The large room, with its soft carpet, the glittering -lights and reflections, the confused mass of colours that the paintings -presented to her eyes, and the air of charm that permeates all art -galleries, be they ever so poor, were all things so far apart from her -life, so foreign not only to her experience, but even to her -imagination, that the scene seemed unreal at first, as if it had been -taken from a fairy tale. Braun was of a more phlegmatic temperament, and -not easily moved. The lights merely made his eyes blink a few times, and -after that he saw only Lizschen’s face. He saw the blood leave it and a -bright pallor overspread her cheeks, saw the frail hand move -convulsively to her breast, a gesture that he knew so well, and feared -that she was about to have a coughing spell. Then, suddenly, he saw the -colour come flooding back to her face, and he saw her eyes sparkling, -dancing with a joy that he had never seen in them before. Her whole -frame seemed suddenly to become animated with a new life and vigour. -Somewhat startled by this transformation he followed her gaze. Lizschen -was looking at a painting. - -“What is it, dear?” he asked. - -“The picture,” she said in a whisper. “The green fields and that tree! -And the road! It stretches over the hill! The sun will set, too, very -soon. Then the sheep will come over the top of the hill. Oh, I can -almost hear the leader’s bell! And there is a light breeze. See the -leaves of the tree; they are moving! Can’t you feel the breeze? Oh, -darling, isn’t it wonderful? I never saw anything like that before.” - -Braun looked curiously at the canvas. To his eyes it presented a -woodland scene, very natural, to be sure, but not more natural than -nature, and equally uninteresting to him. He looked around him to select -a painting upon which he could expend more enthusiasm. - -“Now, there’s the kind I like, Lizschen,” he said. “That storm on the -ocean, with the big ship going to pieces. And that big picture over -there with all the soldiers rushing to battle.” - -He found several others and was pointing out what he found to admire in -them, when, happening to look at his companion’s face, he saw that her -eyes were still fastened upon the woodland picture, and he realised that -she had not heard a word of what he had said. He smiled at her tenderly. - -“Ah, Lizschen,” he said, “if I were rich I would take that picture right -off the wall and give them a hundred dollars for it, and we would take -it home with us so that Lizschen could look at it all day long.” - -But still Lizschen did not hear. All that big room, with its lights and -its brilliant colourings, and all those people who had come in, and even -her lover at her side had faded from Lizschen’s consciousness. The -picture that absorbed all her being had ceased to be a mere beautiful -painting. Lizschen was walking down that road herself; the soft breeze -was fanning her fevered cheeks, the rustling of the leaves had become a -reality; she was walking over the hill to meet the flock of sheep, for -she could hear the shepherd’s dog barking and the melodious tinkling of -the leader’s bell. - -From the moment of their entrance many curious glances had been directed -at them. People wondered who this odd-looking, ill-clad couple could be. -When Lizschen became absorbed in the woodland scene and stood staring at -it as if it were the most wonderful thing on earth, those who observed -her exchanged glances, and several onlookers smiled. Their entrance, -Lizschen’s bewilderment, and then her ecstasy over the painting had all -happened in the duration of three or four minutes. The liveried -attendants had noticed them and had looked at one another with glances -that expressed doubt as to what their duty was under the circumstances. -Clearly these were not the kind of people for whom this exhibition had -been arranged. They were neither lovers of art nor prospective -purchasers. And they looked so shabby and so distressingly poor and -ill-nourished. - -Finally one attendant, bolder than the rest, approached them, and -tapping Braun lightly upon the sleeve, said, quite good-naturedly: - -“I think you’ve made a mistake.” - -Braun looked at him and shook his head and turned to Lizschen to see if -she understood. But Lizschen neither saw nor heard. Then the man, seeing -that he was dealing with foreigners, became more abrupt in his -demeanour, and, with a grunt, pointed to the door. Braun understood. To -be summarily ordered from the place seemed more natural to him than to -be permitted to remain unmolested amid all that splendour. It was more -in keeping with the experiences of his life. “Come, Lizschen,” he said, -“let us go.” Lizschen turned to him with a smiling face, but the smile -died quickly when she beheld the attendant, and she clutched Braun’s -arm. “Yes, let us go,” she whispered to him, and they went out. - - - III - -On the homeward journey not a word was spoken. Braun’s thoughts were -bitter, rebellious; the injustice of life’s arrangements rankled deeply -at that moment, his whole soul felt outraged, fate was cruel, life was -wrong, all wrong. Lizschen, on the other hand, walked lightly, in a -state of mild excitement, all her spirit elated over the picture she had -seen. It had been but a brief communion with nature, but it had thrilled -the hidden chords of her nature, chords of whose existence she had never -dreamed before. Alas! the laws of this same beautiful nature are -inexorable. For that brief moment of happiness Lizschen was to submit to -swift, terrible punishment. Within a few steps of the dark tenement -which Lizschen called home a sudden weakness came upon her, then a -violent fit of coughing which racked her frail body as though it would -render it asunder. When she took her hands from her mouth Braun saw that -they were red. A faintness seized him, but he must not yield to it. -Without a word he gathered Lizschen in his arms and carried her through -the hallway into the rear building and then up four flights of stairs to -the apartment where she lived. - -Then the doctor came—he was a young man, with his own struggle for -existence weighing upon him, and yet ever ready for such cases as this -where the only reward lay in the approbation of his own conscience—and -Braun hung upon his face for the verdict. - -“It is just another attack like the last,” he was saying to himself. -“She will have to lie in bed for a day, and then she will be just as -well as before. Perhaps it may even help her! But it is nothing more -serious. She has had many of them. I saw them myself. It is not so -terribly serious. Not yet. Oh, it cannot be yet! Maybe, after a long -time—but not yet—it is too soon.” Over and over again he argued thus, -and in his heart did not believe it. Then the doctor shook his head and -said: “It’s near the end, my friend. A few days—perhaps a week. But she -cannot leave her bed again.” - -Braun stood alone in the room, upright, motionless, with his fists -clenched until the nails dug deep into the skin, seeing nothing, hearing -nothing, feeling nothing. His eyes were dry, his lips parched. The old -woman with whom Lizschen lived came out and motioned to him to enter the -bedroom. Lizschen was whiter than the sheets, but her eyes were bright, -and she was smiling and holding out her arms to him. “You must go now, -_Liebchen_,” she said faintly. “I will be all right to-morrow. Kiss me -good-night, and I will dream about the beautiful picture.” He kissed her -and went out without a word. All that night he walked the streets. - -When the day dawned he went to her again. She was awake and happy. “I -dreamt about it all night, _Liebchen_,” she said, joyfully. “Do you -think they would let me see it again?” - -He went to his work, and all that day the roar of the machines set his -brain a-whirring and a-roaring as if it, too, had become a machine. He -worked with feverish activity, and when the machines stopped he found -that he had earned a dollar and five cents. Then he went to Lizschen and -gave her fifty cents, which he told her he had found in the street. -Lizschen was much weaker, and could only speak in a whisper. She -beckoned to him to hold his ear to her lips, and she whispered: - -“_Liebchen_, if I could only see the picture once more.” - -“I will go and ask them, darling,” he said. “Perhaps they will let me -bring it to you.” - -Braun went to his room and took from his trunk a dagger that he had -brought with him from Russia. It was a rusty, old-fashioned affair which -even the pawnbrokers had repeatedly refused to accept. Why he kept it or -for what purpose he now concealed it in his coat he could not tell. His -mind had ceased to work coherently: his brain was now a machine, -whirring and roaring like a thousand devils. Thought? Thought had -ceased. Braun was a machine, and machines do not think. - -He walked to the picture gallery. He had forgotten its exact location, -but some mysterious instinct guided him straight to the spot. The doors -were already opened, but the nightly throng of spectators had hardly -begun to arrive. And now a strange thing happened. Braun entered and -walked straight to the painting of the woodland scene that hung near the -door. There was no attendant to bar his progress. A small group of -persons, gathered in front of a canvas that hung a few feet away, had -their backs turned to him, and stood like a screen between him and the -employees of the place. Without a moment’s hesitation, without looking -to right or to left, walking with a determined stride and making no -effort to conceal his purpose, and, at the same time, oblivious of the -fact that he was unobserved, Braun approached the painting, raised it -from the hook, and, with the wire dangling loosely from it, took the -painting under his arm and walked out of the place. If he had been -observed, would he have brought his dagger into use? It is impossible to -tell. He was a machine, and his brain was roaring. Save for one picture -that rose constantly before his vision, he was blind. All that he saw -was Lizschen, so white in her bed, waiting to see the woodland picture -once more. - -He brought it straight to her room. She was too weak to move, too worn -out to express any emotion, but her eyes looked unutterable gratitude -when she saw the painting. - -“Did they let you have it?” she whispered. - -“They were very kind,” said Braun. “I told them you wanted to see it and -they said I could have it as long as I liked. When you are better I will -take it back.” - -Lizschen looked at him wistfully. “I will never be better, _Liebchen_,” -she whispered. - -Braun hung the picture at the foot of the bed where Lizschen could see -it without raising her head, and then went to the window and sat there -looking out into the night. Lizschen was happy beyond all bounds. Her -eyes drank in every detail of the wonderful scene until her whole being -became filled with the delightful spirit that pervaded and animated the -painting. A master’s hand had imbued that deepening blue sky with the -sadness of twilight, the soft, sweet pathos of departing day, and -Lizschen’s heart beat responsive to every shade and shadow. In the -waning light every outline was softened; here tranquillity reigned -supreme, and Lizschen felt soothed. Yet in the distance, across the -valley, the gloom of night had begun to gather. Once or twice Lizschen -tried to penetrate this gloom, but the effort to see what the darkness -was hiding tired her eyes. - - - IV - -The newspapers the next day were full of the amazing story of the stolen -painting. They told how the attendants at the gallery had discovered the -break in the line of paintings and had immediately notified the manager -of the place, who at once asked the number of the picture. - -“It’s number thirty-eight,” they told him. He seized a catalogue, turned -to No. 38, and turned pale. “It’s Corot’s ‘Spring Twilight!’” he cried. -“It cost the owner three thousand dollars, and we’re responsible for -it!” - -The newspapers went on to tell how the police had been notified, and how -the best detectives had been set to work to trace the stolen painting, -how all the thieves’ dens in New York had been ransacked, and all the -thieves questioned and cross-questioned, all the pawnshops searched—and -it all had resulted in nothing. But such excitement rarely leaks into -the Ghetto, and Braun, at his machine, heard nothing of it, knew nothing -of it, knew nothing of anything in the world save that the machines were -roaring away in his brain and that Lizschen was dying. As soon as his -work was done he went to her. She smiled at him, but was too weak to -speak. He seated himself beside the bed and took her hand in his. All -day long she had been looking at the picture; all day long she had been -wandering along the road that ran over the hill, and now night had come -and she was weary. But her eyes were glad, and when she turned them upon -Braun he saw in them love unutterable and happiness beyond all -description. His eyes were dry; he held her hand and stroked it -mechanically; he knew not what to say. Then she fell asleep and he sat -there hour after hour, heedless of the flight of time. Suddenly Lizschen -sat upright, her eyes wide open and staring. - -“I hear them,” she cried. “I hear them plainly. Don’t you, _Liebchen_? -The sheep are coming! They’re coming over the hill! Watch, _Liebchen_; -watch, precious!” - -With all the force that remained in her she clutched his hand and -pointed to the painting at the foot of the bed. Then she swayed from -side to side, and he caught her in his arms. - -“Lizschen!” he cried. “Lizschen!” But her head fell upon his arm and lay -motionless. - -The doctor came and saw at a glance that the patient was beyond his -ministering. “It is over, my friend,” he said to Braun. At the sound of -a voice Braun started, looked around him quite bewildered, and then drew -a long breath which seemed to lift him out of the stupor into which he -had fallen. “Yes, it is over,” he said, and, according to the custom of -the orthodox, he tore a rent in his coat at the neck to the extent of a -hand’s breadth. Then he took the painting under his arm and left the -house. - -It was now nearly two o’clock in the morning and the streets were -deserted. A light rain had begun to fall, and Braun took off his coat to -wrap it around his burden. He walked like one in a dream, seeing -nothing, hearing nothing save a dull monotonous roar which seemed to -come from all directions and to centre in his brain. - -The doors of the gallery were closed and all was dark. Braun looked in -vain for a bell, and after several ineffectual taps on the door began to -pound lustily with his fist and heel. Several night stragglers stopped -in the rain, and presently a small group had gathered. Questions were -put to Braun, but he did not hear them. He kicked and pounded on the -door, and the noise resounded through the streets as if it would rouse -the dead. Presently the group heard the rattling of bolts and the -creaking of a rusty key in a rusty lock, and all became quiet. The door -swung open, and a frightened watchman appeared. - -“What’s the matter? Is there a fire?” he asked. - -A policeman made his way through the group, and looked inquiringly from -Braun to the watchman. Without uttering a word Braun held out the -painting, and at the sight of it the watchman uttered a cry of amazement -and delight. - -“It’s the stolen Corot!” he exclaimed. Then turning to Braun, “Where did -you get it? Who had it? Do you claim the reward?” - -Braun’s lips moved, but no sound came from them, and he turned on his -heel and began to walk off, when the policeman laid a hand on his -shoulder. - -“Not so fast, young man. You’ll have to give some kind of an account of -how you got this,” he said. - -Braun looked at him stupidly, and the policeman became suspicious. “I -guess you’d better come to the station-house,” he said, and without more -ado walked off with his prisoner. Braun made no resistance, felt no -surprise, offered no explanation. At the station-house they asked him -many questions, but Braun only looked vacantly at the questioner, and -had nothing to say. They locked him in a cell over night, a gloomy cell -that opened on a dimly lighted corridor, and there Braun sat until the -day dawned, never moving, never speaking. Once, during the night, the -watchman on duty in this corridor thought he heard a voice whispering -“Lizschen! Lizschen!” but it must have been the rain that now was -pouring in torrents. - - - V - - “There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the weary be at - rest. - - “There the prisoners rest together; they hear not the voice of the - oppressor. - - “The small and the great are there; and the servant is free from - his master.” - -It is written in Israel that the rabbi must give his services at the -death-bed of even the lowliest. The coffin rested on two stools in the -same room in which she died; beside it stood the rabbi, clad in sombre -garments, reading in a listless, mechanical fashion from the Hebrew text -of the Book of Job, interpolating here and there some time-worn, -commonplace phrase of praise, of exhortation, of consolation. He had not -known her; this was merely part of his daily work. - -The sweatshop had been closed for an hour; for one hour the machines -stood silent and deserted; the toilers were gathered around the coffin, -listening to the rabbi. They were pale and gaunt, but not from grief. -The machines had done that. They had rent their garments at the neck, to -the extent of a hand’s breadth, but not from grief. It was the law. A -figure that they had become accustomed to see bending over one of the -machines had finished her last garment. Dry-eyed, in a sort of mild -wonder, they had come to the funeral services. And some were still -breathing heavily from the morning’s work. After all, it was pleasant to -sit quiet for one hour. - -Someone whispered the name of Braun, and they looked around. Braun was -not there. - -“He will not come,” whispered one of the men. “It is in the newspaper. -He was sent to prison for three years. He stole something. A picture, I -think. I am not sure.” - -Those who heard slowly shook their heads. There was no feeling of -surprise, no shock. And what was there to say? He had been one of them. -He had drunk out of the same cup with them. They knew the taste. What -mattered the one particular dreg that he found? They had no curiosity. -In the case of Nitza, it was her baby who was dying because she could -not buy it the proper food. Nitza had told them. And so when Nitza cut -her throat they all knew what she had found in the cup. Braun hadn’t -told—but what mattered it? Probably something more bitter than gall. And -three years in prison? Yes. To be sure. He had stolen something. - - “_Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery_,” droned the - rabbi, “_and life unto the bitter in soul_: - - “_Which long for death, but it cometh not; and dig for it more - than for hid treasures_; - - “_Which rejoice exceedingly, and are glad, when they can find the - grave?_” - -And the rabbi, faithful in the performance of his duty, went on to -expound and explain. But his hearers could not tarry much longer. The -hour was nearing its end, and the machines would soon have to start -again. - - * * * * * - -It is an old story in the Ghetto, one that lovers tell to their -sweethearts, who always cry when they hear it. The machines still roar -and whirr, as if a legion of wild spirits were shrieking within them, -and many a tear is stitched into the garments, but you never see them, -madame—no, gaze as intently upon your jacket as you will, the tear has -left no stain. There is an old man at the corner machine, grey-haired -and worn, but he works briskly. He is the first to arrive each morning, -and the last to leave each night, and all his soul is in his work. His -machine is an old one, and roars louder than the rest, but he does not -hear it. Day and night, sleeping and waking, there are a hundred -thousand machines roaring away in his brain. What cares he for one more -or one less? - - - - - THE SADER GUEST - - -Rosnofsky was explaining to me his theory of the lost blue with which -the ancient Hebrew priests dyed the talith, when the door opened and -lanky Lazarus entered, hat in hand. He entered cautiously, keeping one -hand on the doorknob, and one foot firmly planted for a backward spring. -He seemed rather embarrassed to find a third person present, but the -matter that he had on his mind was weighty—so weighty, in fact, that, -after a moment’s hesitation, he plunged right into the heart of it. - -“Mr. Rosnofsky,” he said, “I love your daughter.” - -Rosnofsky’s eyes opened wide, and his mouth shut tight. - -“And she loves me,” Lazarus went on. - -Rosnofsky’s eyes contracted, until they gleamed through the tiniest kind -of a slit between the lids. His hand fumbled behind his back among a -number of tailor’s tools that lay on the table. - -“And I have come to ask your consent to our marriage.” - -Crash! Rosnofsky’s aim was bad. The shears, instead of reaching Lazarus, -shattered the window pane. Lazarus was flying rapidly down the street. -Then Rosnofsky turned to me. - -“And this mixture, as I was saying, will produce exactly the same blue -that the Talmud describes.” - -It was worth while to become acquainted with Rosnofsky. When aroused, or -crossed, or seriously annoyed, he had a frightful temper, and the man -whose misfortune it had been to stir him up was the object of a -malediction as bitter as it was fierce, extending through all his family -for, usually, a dozen generations. Then, in startling contrast to this, -he was a devout son of Abraham, and, in moments of serious reflection, -would be almost overcome by a feeling of piety, and at such times all -that was good and noble in his nature asserted itself. It was a strange -blending of the prosaic with the patriarchal. - -“How came the original colour to be lost?” I asked. Rosnofsky looked at -me for a moment. Then he shook his head. - -“That scamp has upset me completely,” he said. “Some other time I will -tell you. Just now I can think of nothing but the effrontery of that -scoundrel.” - -“What makes you so bitter toward him?” I ventured to ask. - -“Bitter! Bitter! He wants to marry Miriam. The audacity of the wretch! -My only child. And here he practically tells me to my face that he has -been making love to her, and that he has ascertained that she is in love -with him. And I never knew it. Never even suspected it. A curse on the -scamp! Sneaking into my home to steal my daughter from me. The -dishonourable villain! I trusted him. The viper. May he suffer a million -torments! May the fiends possess him!” - -I ventured to suggest that it was the way of the world. I departed. -Somewhat hastily. I did not like the way he glared at me. - -The next time I saw Rosnofsky he was walking excitedly up and down his -shop, tearing his hair _en route_. When he saw me he sprang forward and -clutched me by the shoulder. - -“Here!” he cried. “I will leave it to you. You were here when he had the -audacity to confess his guilt to my face. Read this.” He thrust a -crumpled piece of paper into my hand. “Read it, and tell me if there is -another such villain upon this earth. Oh, I shall go mad!” - -I read it. It was from Lazarus. - -“I told you that I loved your daughter,” he wrote. “I told you that she -loved me. And, like an honest man, I asked you to consent to our -marriage. You refused. I now appeal to you again. You will make us both -very happy by giving your consent, as we would like you to be present at -the wedding. If you do not give your consent, we will not invite you. -But we will get married, anyway. We will elope at the first opportunity. -The only way to stop it is to keep Miriam locked in the house. Then I -shall call in the police.” - -It was signed, “Lovingly, your son-in-law-to-be.” - -“How can I punish him?” asked Rosnofsky. I promised to think it over. I -had called merely to tell Rosnofsky that I would accept his invitation -to supper on Sader night, and to thank him. - -“You know the law,” he said. “When you come bring with you a plan to -punish this scoundrel.” - - * * * * * - -It was the eve of the Passover, and I stood in the gloomy hallway -tapping at Rosnofsky’s door. Dimly through the darkness I saw a -quivering shadow, but in the labyrinths of tenement corridors it is -unwise to investigate shadows. The door opened, and Rosnofsky, with -“praying cap” upon his head, welcomed me to the feast of the Sader. - -Miriam was as sweet as a rose. I have not told you how pretty she was, -nor shall I begin now, for it is a very tempting subject, such as would -be likely to beguile a man into forgetting the thread of his story, and -it was too dangerous for me to enter upon. Suffice it that her eyes were -as glorious as—but there! - -The table was arranged for four, Rosnofsky, Miriam, and myself, and -opposite Miriam’s seat was the chair for the Stranger. - -Now the custom of celebrating this feast, according to the ritual, is -like this: - -Holding aloft the unleavened bread, the head of the house must say: - -“This is the bread of affliction which our ancestors ate in the land of -Egypt. Let all those who are hungry enter and eat thereof; and all who -are in distress come and celebrate the Passover.” - -And the youngest-born must arise and open the door so that the Stranger -may enter and take his place at the table, and, even though he slew one -of their kin, that night he is a sacred guest. - -And—as you have no doubt already opined—hardly had Miriam opened the -door when, with pale face, but with lips that were pressed in grim -determination, in walked Lazarus. Now, to this day I do not know whether -Miriam expected him, or what her feelings were when he entered. She has -refused to tell me. It needed but one glance to assure me that if there -was any secret Rosnofsky had not been in it. - -With a cry of rage he sprang to his feet, and I feared that he would -hurl a knife at the intruder. But an instant later he recovered himself, -and with a gurgling, choking sound sank into his chair. - -“The grace of God be with you all,” saluted Lazarus, still very pale. -Then, - -“Am I a welcome guest?” - -Rosnofsky seemed to be on the point of exploding with rage, but at this -question he started as if he had been struck. After a moment’s silence -he arose with great dignity—and holding out his hand—the strength of his -piety never more forcibly illustrated—said: - -“Forgive my anger, my son. You are welcome to the Feast of the -Passover.” - -And resuming his seat he chanted: - -“Blessed art Thou, O Eternal, our God, King of the Universe, Creator of -the fruit of wine!” - -It was the beginning of the service. Lazarus, with his eyes upon the -table, chanted the responses, and I, who knew nothing of the ritual, -looked at Miriam, who, I assure you, was delightful to behold, -particularly when her eyes twinkled as they did now. - -By the time he had finished the Sader, Rosnofsky’s troubled spirit had -become soothed, and the final grace was delivered in a voice so calm and -with a manner so soothing, that when he looked up Lazarus was emboldened -to speak. - -“You are angry with me, Father Rosnofsky,” he ventured. - -“Let us not speak of unpleasant things this night,” replied the tailor, -gently. “This is a holy night.” - -Lazarus, in no way abashed, deftly led the old man to expound some of -the intricate sayings of the rabbis upon the Passover, which Rosnofsky, -who was something of a theologian, did with great eagerness. Now, how it -came about I cannot tell, but Lazarus was so greatly interested in this -discussion, and Rosnofsky was so determined to prove that the old rabbis -were all in the wrong on this one point, that when the meal was over he -declared that if Lazarus would call the next night he would have a book -that would convince him. Lazarus had the discretion to take his -departure. When he had gone Rosnofsky puffed his pipe in silence for -some moments. Then, with a quaint smile, he turned to me and said: - -“The young rogue!” - -And then he gazed at Miriam until she grew red. - - - - - A RIFT IN THE CLOUD - - Though the sky be grey and dreary, yet will the faintest rift reveal - a vision of the dazzling brightness that lies beyond. - - So does a word, a look, a single act of a human being often reveal - the glorious beauty of a soul. - - -So is it written in the Talmud, and it needs no rabbi to expound it. -What I am about to tell you is not a rounded tale; it hardly rises to -the dignity of a sketch. There is a man who lives in the very heart of a -big city, and I once had a peep into his heart. His name is Polatschek. -He makes cigars during the day and gets drunk every night. - -In that Hungarian colony which clusters around East Houston Street, the -lines that separate Gentile, Jew, and Gipsy are not more strictly drawn -than are the lines between the lines. And as the pedigree of every -member is the common property of the colony, the social status of each -group is pretty clearly defined. - -Being an outcast, Polatschek has no social status whatever, and all that -the colony has ever known or has ever cared to know about him is this: - -By a curious atavistic freak Polatschek was born honest. In the little -town in southern Hungary from which he came his great-grandfather had -been a highwayman, his grandfather had been executed for murder, his -father was serving a long sentence for burglary, and his two younger -brothers were on the black list of the police. And so, when it was -announced that one of the Polatscheks was coming to New York, Houston -Street society drew in its latch-string, and one of the storekeepers -even went so far as to tell the story to a police detective. This, -however, was frowned upon, for Goulash Avenue—as the Hungarians -laughingly call Houston Street—loves to keep its secrets to itself. - -There is no need to describe the appearance of Polatschek; it is -extremely uninteresting. He has a weak chin, and when he is sober he is -very timid. A Hungarian does not easily make friends outside his own -people, and so it came to pass that Polatschek had no friends at all. - -How Polatschek lived none but himself knew. Somewhere in Rivington -Street he had a room where, it was once said, he kept books, though no -one knew what kind of books they were. For a few hours every day he -worked at cigar-making, earning just enough money to keep body and soul -together. He was, in short, as uninteresting a man as you could find, -and all who knew him shunned him. Night after night he would sit in -Natzi’s café, where the gipsies play on Thursdays, drinking -slivovitz—which is the last stage. He would drink, drink, drink, and -never a word to a soul. On music nights he would drink more than usual -and his eyes would fill with tears. We all used to think they were -maudlin tears, but we had grown accustomed to Polatschek and his strange -habits, and nobody paid attention to him. - - * * * * * - -It was music night at Natzi’s, and Polatschek was sitting close to the -gipsies with his eyes fixed upon the leader. He had been drinking a -little more than usual, and I marvelled that a man in his maudlin -condition should take such a deep interest in music. - -They were playing the “Rakoczy March,” which only the Hungarians know -how to play, and Polatschek was swaying his head in time to the melody. - -It seemed so strange, this friendless, hopeless man’s love for music, so -thoroughly foreign to his dreary, barren nature as I had pictured it in -my mind, that when the gipsies had finished I spoke to him. - -“That was beautiful, was it not?” - -He looked at me in surprise, his eyes wide open, and after gazing at me -for a moment he shook his head. - -“No, that was not beautiful. The ‘Rakoczy March’ is the greatest march -in the world, but these gipsies do not know how to play it. They cannot -play. They have no life, no soul. They play it as if they were -machines.” - -Startled by his vehemence, I could only murmur, “Oh!” - -“Look!” he exclaimed, rising in agitation. He took up the leader’s -violin and bow. “Listen! This is the ‘Rakoczy’!” - -The gipsy leader had sprung to his feet, but at the first tone of the -violin he stood as if petrified. A silence had fallen upon the room. -With his eyes fixed upon mine, his lips pressed firmly together, -Polatschek played the “Rakoczy March.” The guests were staring at him in -blank amazement. The gipsies, with sparkling eyes, were listening to -those magic strains, but Polatschek was unmindful of it all, and—I felt -proud because he was playing that march for me. I have heard Sarasate -play the “Rakoczy March.” I have heard Mme. Urso try it, and I have -heard Remenyi, who, being a Hungarian, played it best of them all. But I -had never heard it played as Polatschek played it. - -As I saw the lines in that face grow sharper, saw the body quiver with -patriotic ardour, those ringing, rhythmic tones sang of the tramp, -tramp, tramp of armies, of cavalcades of horses, of the clash and -clangour of battle. Then it all grew fainter and fainter as if the -armies were vanishing in the distance, and the sad strains of the -undersong rose to the surface of the melody and I heard that sobbing -appeal which lies hidden somewhere in every Hungarian song. It died -away, there was a moment’s silence—Polatschek remained standing, looking -at me—then a mighty shout went up. - -“Ujra! Ujra!” they cried. It was an encore they wanted. - -But Polatschek had resumed his seat and his slivovitz, and in a few -moments he was very drunk. - - - - - OUT OF HIS ORBIT - - -In order to emphasise the moral of a tale, it is safer to state it at -the very beginning. The moral of the story of Rosenstein is this: Woe be -to the man who attempts to teach his wife a lesson! Woe be to him if he -fail! Woe be to him if he succeed! Whatever happens, woe be to him! In -witness whereof this tale is offered. - -Mrs. Rosenstein wanted one room papered in red, and Mr. Rosenstein held -that the yellow paper that adorned the walls was good enough for another -year. - -“But,” argued his wife, “we have laid by a little money in the past -years, and we can easily afford it. And I love red paper on the walls.” -Rosenstein, by the way, owned a dozen tenement houses, had no children, -and led a life of strict economy on perhaps one-fiftieth of his income. -Besides, Rosenstein owned a lucrative little dry-goods store that -brought in more money. And he had never smoked and had never drunk. But -the more his wife insisted upon the red paper the more stubborn he -became in his opposition, until, one morning after a heated discussion -in which he had failed disastrously to bring forth any reasonable -argument to support his side of the case, he suddenly and viciously -yielded. - -“Very well,” he said, putting on his hat and starting for the door; “get -your red paper. Have your own way. But from this moment forth I become a -drinker.” - -Mrs. Rosenstein turned pale. “Husband! Husband!” she cried entreatingly, -turning toward him with clasped hands. But Rosenstein, without another -word, strode out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Mrs. -Rosenstein sank into a chair, appalled. The pride of her life had been -that her husband had never touched liquor, and the one disquieting -thought that from time to time came to worry her was that some day he -might fall. And she felt that the first fall would mark the beginning of -ruin. She had known men whose habits of drink had undermined their -business capacity. Her husband, she knew, was close, and had a mania for -accumulating money. But once the demon of drink entered into his life -she felt that all this would change. He would become a spendthrift. He -would squander all that he had saved. They would be homeless—perhaps -they would starve. And he was about to take the first step. Her heart -was almost broken. To follow him she knew would be worse than useless. -He was stubborn—she had learned that—and there was nothing for her to do -but to accept the inevitable. - -Rosenstein meanwhile walked to the nearest saloon. He had passed the -place a thousand times, but had never entered before. The bartender’s -eyes opened in mild surprise to see so patriarchal a figure standing in -front of the bar glaring at him so determinedly. - -“Give me a drink!” demanded Rosenstein. - -“What kind of a drink do you want?” asked the bartender. - -Rosenstein looked bewildered. He did not know one drink from another. He -looked at the row of bottles behind the counter, and then his face lit -up. - -“That bottle over there—the big black one.” - -It was Benedictine. The bartender poured some of it into a tiny liqueur -glass, but Rosenstein frowned. - -“I want a drink, I said, not a drop. Fill me a big glass.” - -The wise bartender does not dispute with his patrons as long as they -have the means of paying for what they order. Without a word he filled a -small goblet with the thick cordial, and Rosenstein, without a word, -gulped it down. The bartender watched him in open-mouthed amazement, -charged him for four drinks, and then, as Rosenstein walked haughtily -out of the place, murmured to himself: “Well, I’ll be hanged!” - -Rosenstein walked aimlessly but joyfully down the street, bowing to -right and to left at the many people who smiled upon him in so friendly -a fashion. When he came to the corner he was surprised to see that the -whole character of the street had changed over night. Then it seemed to -him that a regiment of soldiers came marching up, each man holding out a -flowing bowl to him, that he fell into line and joined the march, and -that they all found themselves in a brilliant, dazzling glare of several -hundred suns. Then they shot him from the mouth of a cannon, and when he -regained consciousness he recognised the features of Mrs. Rosenstein and -felt the grateful coolness of the wet towels she was tenderly laying -upon his fevered head. It was nearly midnight. - -Rosenstein groaned in anguish. - -“What has happened?” he asked. - -“You have been a drinker,” his wife replied, “but it is all over now. -Take a nice long sleep and we will never speak of it again. And the -yellow paper will do for another year.” - -Rosenstein watched the flaming pinwheels and skyrockets that were -shooting before his vision for a while; then a horrible idea came to -him. - -“See how much money I have in my pockets,” he said. His wife counted it. - -“One dollar and forty cents,” she said. A sigh of relief rose from -Rosenstein’s lips. - -“It’s all right, then. I only had two dollars when I went out.” Then he -fell peacefully asleep. The next morning he faced his wife and pointed -out to her the awful lesson he had taught her. - -“You now see what your stubbornness can drive me to,” he said. “I have -squandered sixty cents and lost a whole day’s work in the store merely -to convince you that it is all nonsense to put red paper on the walls.” -But his wife was clinging to him and crying and vowing that she would -never again insist upon anything that would add to their expenses. And -then they kissed and made up, and Rosenstein went to his store, somewhat -weak in the legs and somewhat dizzy, and with a queer feeling in his -head, but elated that he had won a complete mastery over his stubborn -spouse so cheaply. - -The store was closed. - -Rosenstein gazed blankly at the barred door and windows. It was the -bookkeeper’s duty to arrive at eight o’clock and open the store. It was -now nine o’clock. Where was the bookkeeper? And where were the three -saleswomen? And the office-boy? As quickly as he could, Rosenstein -walked to the bookkeeper’s house. He found that young man dressing -himself and whistling cheerfully. The bookkeeper looked amazed when he -beheld his employer. - -“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Rosenstein. “Why are you not at -the store? Where are the keys?” - -The young man’s face fell. He looked at Rosenstein curiously. Then, -“Were you only joking?” he asked. - -“Joking?” repeated Rosenstein, more amazed than ever. “Me? How? When? -Are you crazy?” - -“You told us all yesterday to close the store and go and have a good -time, and that we needn’t come back for a week.” - -Rosenstein steadied himself against the door. He tried to speak, but -something was choking him. Finally, pointing to his breast, he managed -to gasp faintly: - -“Me?” - -The clerk nodded. - -“And what else did I do?” asked Rosenstein, timidly. - -“You gave us each five dollars and—and asked us to sing something -and—what is it, Mr. Rosenstein. Are you ill?” - -“Go—go!” gasped Rosenstein. “Get everybody and open the store again. -Quickly. And tell them all not to speak of what happened yesterday. -They—they—can—they can (gulp) keep the money. But the store must be -opened and nobody must tell.” - -He staggered out into the street. A policeman saw him clutching a -lamp-post to steady himself. - -“Are you sick, Mr. Rosenstein?” he asked. “You look pale. Can’t I get -you a drink?” - -Rosenstein recoiled in horror. “I am not a drinker!” he cried. Then he -walked off, his head in a whirl, his heart sick with a sudden dread. He -took a long walk, and when he felt that he had regained control of -himself he returned to the store. It was open, and everything was going -on as usual. And there was a man—a stranger—waiting for him. When he -beheld Rosenstein the stranger’s face lit up. - -“Good-morning!” he cried, cheerfully. “Sorry to trouble you so early, -but this is rent day, and I need the money.” - -Rosenstein turned pale. The saleswomen had turned their heads away with -a discretion that was painfully apparent. Rosenstein’s eyes blinked -rapidly several times. Then he said, huskily, “What money?” - -The stranger looked at him in surprise. - -“Don’t you remember this?” he asked, holding out a card. Rosenstein -looked at him. - -“Yes, this is my card. But what of it?” - -“Look on the other side.” Rosenstein looked. Staring him in the face -was: “I owe Mister Casey thirty-six dollars. I. Rosenstein.” The writing -was undeniably his. And suddenly there came to him a dim, distant, -dreamlike recollection of standing upon a mountain-top with a band of -music playing around him and a Mr. Casey handing him some money. - -“I thought that was an old dream,” he muttered to himself. Then, turning -to the stranger, he asked, “Who are you?” - -“Me?” said the stranger, in surprise; “why, I’m Casey—T. Casey, of -Casey’s café. You told me to come as soon as I needed the——” - -“Hush!” cried Rosenstein. “Never mind any more.” He opened a safe, took -out the money, and paid Mr. Casey. When the latter had gone Rosenstein -called the bookkeeper aside, and, in a fearful tone, whispered in his -ear: - -“Ach! I am so glad when I think that I didn’t, open the safe yesterday.” -The bookkeeper looked at him in surprise. - -“You tried, sir,” he said. “Don’t you remember when you said, ‘The -numbers won’t stand still,’ and asked me if I couldn’t open it? And I -told you I didn’t know the combination?” - -Rosenstein gazed upon him in horror. The room became close. He went out -and stood in the doorway, gasping for breath. In the street, directly in -front of the store, stood a white horse. A seedy-looking individual -stood on the curb holding the halter and gazing expectantly at -Rosenstein. - -“Good-morning, boss!” he cried, cheerfully. - -Rosenstein glared at him. “Go away!” he cried. “I don’t allow horses to -stand in front of my store. Take him somewhere else.” - -“I’ll take him anywhere ye say, boss,” said the man, touching his cap. -“But ye haven’t paid for him yet.” - -Rosenstein’s heart sank. Then suddenly a wave of bitter resentment -surged through him. He strode determinedly toward the man. - -“Did I buy that horse?” he asked, fiercely. - -“Sure ye did,” answered the man; “for yer milk store.” - -“But I haven’t got a milk store,” answered Rosenstein. The man’s eyes -blinked. - -“Don’t I know it?” he cried. “Didn’t ye tell me so yerself? But didn’t -ye say ye wuz going to start one? Didn’t ye say that this horse was as -white as milk, and that if I’d sell him to ye y’d open a milk store? -Didn’t ye make me take him out of me wagon and run him up and down the -street fer ye? Didn’t ye make me take all the kids on the block fer a -ride? Am I a liar? Huh?” - -Rosenstein walked unsteadily into the store and threw his arm around the -bookkeeper’s neck. - -“Get rid of him. For God’s sake get him away from here! Give him some -money—as little as you can. Only get him away. Some day I will increase -your salary. I am sick to-day. I cannot do any business. I am going -home.” He started for the rear door, but stopped at the threshold. - -“Don’t take the horse, whatever you do,” he said. Then he went home. - -Mrs. Rosenstein was sitting on the doorsteps knitting and beaming with -joy. When she saw her husband she ran toward him. The tears stood in her -eyes. - -“Dearest husband! Dear, generous husband! To punish me for my -stubbornness and then to fill me with happiness by gratifying the -dearest wish of my heart! It is too much! I do not deserve it! One room -is all I wanted!” - -Rosenstein’s heart nearly stopped beating. Upon his ears fell a strange -noise of scraping and tearing that came from the doorway of his house. - -“Wh-wh-what is it?” he asked, feebly. His wife smiled. - -“The paper-hangers are already at work,” she said, joyfully. “They said -you insisted that all the work should be finished in one day, and -they’ve sent twenty men here.” - -Mr. Rosenstein sank wearily down upon the steps. The power of speech had -left him. Likewise the power of thought. His brain felt like a maelstrom -of chaotic, incoherent images. He felt that he was losing his mind. A -brisk-looking young man, with a roll of red wall-paper in his hand, came -down the steps and doffed his hat to Rosenstein. - -“Good-morning!” he cried, cheerfully. (The salutation “Good-morning” was -beginning to go through Rosenstein like a knife each time he heard it.) -“I did it. I didn’t think I could do it, but I did. I tell you, sir, -there isn’t another paper-hanger in the city who could fill a job like -that at such short notice. Every single room in the house! And red -paper, too, which has to be handled so carefully, and makes the work -take so much longer. But the job will be finished to-night, sir.” - -He walked off with the light tread and proud mien of a man who has -accomplished something. Rosenstein looked after him bewildered. Then he -turned to his wife, but when he saw the smile and the happy look that -lit up her face he turned away and sighed. How could he tell her? - -“My love,” said Mrs. Rosenstein, after a long pause, “promise me one -thing and I will be happy as long as I live.” - -Rosenstein was silent. In a vague way he was wondering if this promise -was based upon some deed of yesterday that had not yet been revealed to -him. - -“Promise me,” his wife went on, “that, no matter what happens, you will -never become a drinker again.” - -Rosenstein sat bolt upright. He tried to speak. A hundred different -words and phrases crowded to his lips, struggling for utterance. He -became purple with suppressed excitement. In a wild endeavour to utter -that promise so forcibly, so emphatically, and so fiercely as not only -to assure his wife, but to relieve his suffering feelings, Rosenstein -could only sputter incoherently. Then, suddenly realising the futility -of the endeavour, and feeling that his whole vocabulary was inadequate -to express the vehemence of his emotion, he gurgled helplessly: - -“Yes. I promise.” - -And he kept the promise. - - - - - THE POISONED CHAI - - -Bernstein sat in the furthest corner of the café, brooding. The fiercest -torments that plague the human heart were rioting within him, as if they -would tear him asunder. Bernstein was of an impulsive, overbearing -nature, mature as far as years went, yet with the untrained, -inexperienced emotions of a savage. To such natures the “no” from a -woman’s lips comes like a blow; the sudden knowledge that those same -lips can smile brightly upon another follows like molten lead. - -That whole afternoon Bernstein had suffered the wildest tortures of -jealousy. Had Natzi been a younger man Bernstein’s resentment might not -have turned so hotly upon him. Yet Natzi was almost of his own age, a -weak-faced creature, with an eternal smile, incapable of intense -feeling, ignorant of even the faintest shade of that passion which he -(Bernstein) had laid so humbly, so tenderly at her feet—and it was Natzi -she loved! Bernstein’s hand darted to his inner pocket and came forth -clutching a tiny object upon which he gazed with the look of a fiend. - -“I may not have her,” he murmured, “but she will never belong to him.” - -He held the tiny thing in his lap, below the level of the table, so that -none other might see it, and looked at it intently. It was a small -phial; it contained some colourless liquid. - -The thought entered his brain to drain the contents of that phial -himself and put an end to the fierce pain that was eating away his -heart. Would it not be for the best? There was no one to care. The world -held no one but her; perhaps his death would bring the tears to those -big brown eyes; she might even come and kiss his cold forehead. But -after that Natzi would be master of those kisses, upon Natzi’s lips hers -would be pressed all the livelong day. - -The blood surged to his brain; he clutched the table as though he would -squeeze the wood to pulp; before his eyes rose a mist—a red mist—the red -of blood. Slowly this mist cleared away, and the face and form of Natzi -loomed up before him—Natzi, with patient, boyish eyes, smiling. - -“It is the third time that I’ve said ‘Good-evening.’ Have you been -sleeping with your eyes open?” - -“No. No. Just thinking,” said Bernstein, talking rapidly. “Sit down. -Here, opposite me. The light hurts my eyes. Come, let us have some chai. -Here, waiter! Two chais. Have them hot, with plenty of rum.” - -“You seem nervous, Bernstein. Aren’t you well?” asked Natzi, -solicitously. - -“Oh, smoking too much. But let us talk about yourself. How is the -wood-carving business? Any better?” - -Natzi shook his head, ruefully. “Worse,” he answered. “They’re doing -everything by machinery these days, and the machines seem to be -improving all the time. The work is all mechanical now. The only real -pleasure I get out of my tools is at night when I am home. Then I can -carve the things I like—things that don’t sell.” - -The waiter brought two cups of chai, with the blue flames leaping -brightly from the burning rum on the surface. Bernstein’s eyes were -intent upon the flames. - -“I have not yet congratulated you,” he said. - -He did not see the look that came into Natzi’s eyes—a look of -tenderness, of earnestness, a look that Bernstein had never seen there, -although he had known Natzi many years. - -“Yes,” said Natzi, thoughtfully. “I am to be congratulated. It is more -than I deserve. I am not worthy.” - -Bernstein’s gaze was fastened upon the flames. They were dancing -brightly upon the amber liquid. - -“She is so beautiful, so sweet, so pure,” Natzi went on. “To think that -all that happiness is for me!” - -The flames changed from blue to red. Bernstein’s brain whirled. He felt -a wild impulse to throw himself upon his companion and seize him by the -throat and strangle him, and cry aloud so that all could hear it: “You -shall never have that happiness. She belongs to me. She is part of my -life, part of myself. You cannot understand her. I alone of all men -understand her. Every thought of my brain, every impulse of my being, -every fibre of my body beats responsive to her. She was made for me. No -other shall have her!” - -Then the thought of the phial in his hand recurred to his mind and he -became calm. The flames died out, and Natzi slowly drained his cup. -Bernstein watched him with bloodshot eyes. Looking up he met Natzi’s -gaze bent upon him anxiously. - -“You are not well, Bernstein. Let us go home.” - -“No, no,” Bernstein said, quickly. “It is just nervousness. I have -smoked too much.” He made a feeble attempt at a smile. “Come,” said he, -draining his cup. “Let us have another. The last. The very last. And -after that we will drink no more chai.” - -Two more cups were set before them. - -“Look,” said Bernstein, “is that lightning in the sky?” - -Natzi turned his head toward the open doorway. Swiftly, yet stealthily, -Bernstein’s hand stretched forth until it touched the blue flames that -danced on Natzi’s cup, hovered there a moment, and then was withdrawn -just as Natzi turned around. His fingers had been scorched. - -“No, I see no lightning. The stars are shining.” - -“Let us drink,” said Bernstein. “The last drink.” - -“I am not a fire-eater,” said Natzi, smiling. “Let us wait at least -until the rum burns out.” - -Bernstein lowered the flaming cup that, in his eagerness, he had raised -toward his lips and looked at Natzi. Malice gleamed in his eyes. - -“Yes. Let it cool. Then we will drink a toast.” - -“With all my heart,” said Natzi. “It shall be a toast to her. A toast to -the sweetest woman in the world.” - -There was a long pause. Once or twice Natzi glanced hesitatingly at his -companion, who sat with bowed head, his eyes intent upon the flames that -leaped so brightly from his cup. Then Natzi spoke, slowly at first, but -gradually more rapidly, and more animatedly as the intensity of his -emotion mastered him. - -“Do you know, dear friend,” he began, “there was a time when I thought -she loved you? We were together so much, the three of us, and she had so -many opportunities to know you—to know you as I knew you—to know your -great, strong mind, your tender heart, your steadfastness, your generous -nature, that could harbour no unworthy thought. You pose as a cynic, as -a man who looks down upon the petty things that make up life for most of -us, but I—I, who have lived with you, struggled with you, known so many -of the trials and heart-breakings of everyday life with you—I know you -better. True, you have no love for women, and I often wondered how you -could be so blind to her sweetness, and to the charm that seemed to fill -the room whenever we three were together. But I never took my eyes from -her face, and when I saw with what breathless interest she listened -whenever you spoke, whenever you told us of your plans for uplifting the -down-trodden, of your innermost thoughts and hopes and feelings, I read -in her eyes a fondness for you that filled me with despair.” - -Bernstein was breathing heavily. His lips quivered; his face twitched; -the blood had mounted to his cheeks. His eyes were downcast, fastened -upon the blue flames of the chai, dancing and leaping in fantastic -shapes. - -“That time you were sick—do you remember? When the doctor said there was -no hope on earth, when everyone felt that the end had come, when you lay -for days white and still, hardly breathing, with the pallor of death -upon your face—do you remember? And I nursed you—sat at your bedside -through four days and four nights without a minute’s rest. And then, -when the doctor said the crisis had passed and you would get well, I -fainted away from sheer weakness—do you remember?” - -Perspiration in huge drops was trickling slowly down Bernstein’s -forehead. His lips were dry. His teeth were tightly clenched. - -“And you thought I had done it all for friendship’s sake, and I listened -to your outpouring of gratitude, taking it all for myself, without a -word—without a word! Ah, my dear friend, it was hateful to deceive you; -but how could I tell the truth? But now I have no shame in telling it. I -did it for her. All for her. To save you for her. That was the only -thought in my poor, whirling brain during those long, weary days and -nights. I felt that if you died she would die. I knew the intensity of -her nature, and I knew that if aught happened to the man she loved she -would die of grief. And now to think you never cared for her, and that -it was I whom she always loved!” - -Natzi looked at the bowed head before him with tender smile. Bernstein -was trembling. - -“I am glad, though, that all happened as it did. Had I nursed you only -for your own sake, much as I loved you, I might have weakened, my -strength might not have held out. For a man can do that for his love -which he cannot do for himself. And, perhaps, after all, it was an -excellent lesson for me to learn to bear bitter disappointment.” - -The flames in Bernstein’s cup were burning low. With every breath of air -they flickered and trembled. They would soon die out. - -“Look,” said Natzi, reaching into his pocket. “Look at this little piece -that I carved during the hours that I sat at your bedside—to keep me -awake. I have carried it over my heart ever since.” - -Bernstein looked up. His eyes were frightfully bloodshot. His face was -ashen. In Natzi’s hand he beheld a tiny carving in wood, fashioned with -exquisite skill and grace, of a woman’s head. The flame in Natzi’s cup -caught a light gust of air that stirred for a moment, leaped brightly, -as if on purpose to illumine the features of the carved image, then -flickered and went out. Bernstein had recognised the likeness. Those -features were burning in his brain. - -“Every night since then I have set this image before me, and I have -prayed to God to always keep her as sweet, as pure, and as beautiful as -He keeps the flowers in His woods. And every morning I have prayed to -Him to fill her life with sunshine and gladness, and to let no sorrow -fall upon her. And every day I carried it pressed against my heart and I -felt sustained and strengthened. Ah, Bernstein, God is good! He gave her -to me! He brought about the revelation that her heart was mine, her -sweetness, her beauty—all were mine. Come, comrade, we have gone through -many a struggle together. Let us drink a toast—you shall name it!” - -Natzi held his cup aloft. With a hoarse cry Bernstein half rose from his -seat, swiftly reached forward, and tore the cup from Natzi’s grasp. - -“To her!” he cried. “To her! May God preserve her and forgive me!” - -He drained the cup, stared wildly at the astonished countenance of -Natzi, and, after a moment, during which he swayed slightly from side to -side, fell forward upon the table, motionless. - - - - - URIM AND THUMMIM - - -The hall was packed to the point of suffocation, with thousands of -gaunt, hollow-eyed strikers, who hung upon the speaker’s impassioned -words with breathless interest. He was an eloquent speaker, with a pale, -delicate face, and dark eyes that shone like burning coals. - -He had been speaking for an hour, exhorting the strikers to stand firm, -and to bear in patience their burden of suffering. When he dwelt on the -prospect of victory, and portrayed the ultimate moment of triumph that -would be theirs, if only they stood steadfast, a wave of enthusiasm -surged through the audience, and they burst into wild cheers. - -“Remember, fellow-workmen,” he went on, “that we have fought before. -Remember that we have suffered before. And remember that we have won -before. - -“How many are there of you who can look back to the famous strike of ten -years ago? Do you not remember how, for two months, we fought with -unbroken ranks, and after privation and distress far beyond what we are -passing through to-day, triumphed over our enemies and won a glorious -victory? It was but a pittance that we were striking for, but the life -of our union was at stake. With one exception, not a man faltered. The -story of our sufferings only God remembers! But we bore them without a -murmur, without complaint. There was one dastard—one traitor, recreant -to his oath—but we triumphed in spite of him. Oh, my fellow-workers, let -us——” - -But now a mist gathered before my eyes; the sound of his voice died -away, and all that assemblage faded from my sight. - -The speaker’s words had awakened in my mind the memory of Urim and -Thummim; all else was instantly forgotten. - - * * * * * - -Urim was a doll that had lost both legs and an arm, but its cheeks, when -I first saw it, were still pink, and, in spite of its misfortunes, it -wore a smile that never faded. Thummim was also a doll, somewhat more -rugged than Urim, but gloomy and frowning, in spite of its state of -preservation. Koppel and Rebecca agreed that Urim was by far the more -interesting of the two, but the two had come into the household -together, and to discard Thummim was altogether out of the question. - -Koppel was a cloakmaker, and it was during the big strike that I first -met him. Of all the members of that big trades-union he alone had -continued to work when the strike was declared, and they all cursed him. -Pleading and threats alike were of no avail to induce him to leave the -shop; for the paltry pittance that he could earn he abandoned his union -and violated his oath of affiliation. - -At every meeting he was denounced, his name was hissed, he was an -outcast among his kind. - -When I tapped upon his door there was no response. I opened it and -beheld a child with raven hair, so busily occupied with undressing a -doll that she did not look up until I asked: - -“Is Mr. Koppel in?” - -She turned with a start and gazed at me in astonishment. Her big, brown -eyes were opened wide at the apparition of a stranger, yet she did not -seem at all alarmed. After a moment’s hesitation—the door was still -open—she approached me and held out the doll. - -“Urim!” she said. I took it, and with a happy smile she ran to a corner -of the room, where, from under a table, she dragged another doll. - -“T’ummim!” she said, holding it out to me. - -Then Koppel entered the room. He knew me, although I had never seen him -before, and readily guessed the object of my errand. - -“You are from the newspaper,” he said. “You want to know why I did not -strike.” - -When the lamplight fell upon his countenance I saw that he was a -miserable-looking creature, servile in his manner, and repulsive to the -eye. He did not appear to be very strong, and the climb of the stairs -seemed to have exhausted him. He sat down, and the girl climbed upon his -knee. She threw her arm around his neck, and, looking up at me with a -pretty smile, said: - -“Urim—T’ummim—mine!” - -Koppel stroked her head, and a look of deep love came into his eyes, and -then I began to understand. - -“She has no mother,” he said. “I must pay a woman to give her food. I—I -can’t strike—can I?” - -One of the dolls slipped from my hand and fell to the floor. - -“Urim!” cried the little one, slipping hastily from her father’s knee to -pick it up. Tenderly she examined the doll’s head; it was unscathed. -Then she looked up at me and held out her arms, and her mouth formed -into a rosebud. It was a charming picture, altogether out of -place—naïve, picturesque, utterly delightful. - -“You must go to bed,” said her father, sternly. “The foolish thing wants -you to kiss her.” - -We became friends—Koppel, Rebecca, Urim, Thummim, and I. - -“I was reading the Pentateuch aloud one night,” explained Koppel, “and -she caught the words Urim and Thummim. They pleased her, and she has not -forgotten them.” - -I have not said that Rebecca was pretty. She was more than pretty; there -was a light in her baby face that bespoke a glorious womanhood. There -was a quiet dignity in her baby manners that can be found only among the -children of the Orient. She was a winsome child, and during the day, -when her father was at work, the children from far and near would come -to make a pet of her. - -The strike was at an end, and Koppel was discharged. When I came to the -house a few days later Rebecca was eating a piece of dry bread, saving a -few crumbs for Urim and Thummim. Koppel, in gloomy silence, was watching -her. - -“She is not well,” he said. “She has had nothing to eat but bread for -three days. I must send her to an institution.” - -The next morning the doctor was there, prescribing for her in a -perfunctory way, for it was merely a charity case. She smiled feebly -when she saw me, and handed me a doll that lay beside her. - -“It’s Thummim,” I said. “Won’t you give me Urim?” - -She shook her head and smiled. She was holding Urim against her breast. - - * * * * * - -It happened ten years ago, and it seems but yesterday. The day was warm -and sultry—almost as close as this crowded hall. The streets of the -Ghetto were filled with the market throng, and the air hummed with the -music of life. The whole picture rises clearly, now—as clearly as the -platform from which the enthusiastic speaker’s voice resounds through -the hall. - -A white hearse stands before the house. The driver, unaided, bears a -tiny coffin out of the gloomy hallway into the bright sunshine. The -group of idlers make way for him, and look on with curiosity, as he -deposits his burden within the hearse. - -There are no carriages. There are no flowers. Koppel walks slowly out of -the house, his eyes fastened upon the sidewalk, his lips moving as if he -were muttering to himself. In his hand he carries two broken dolls. -Without looking to right or left, he climbs beside the driver, and the -hearse rattles down the street. - -I mounted the stairs to his home, and found everything as it had been -when I was there last—everything save Koppel and Rebecca, and Urim and -Thummim, and these I never saw again. - - - - - A YIDDISH IDYLL - - _Die Liebe ist eine alte Geschichte._ - - -In German they call it “Die Liebe.” The French, as every school-girl -knows, call it “L’Amour.” It is known to the Spanish and the Italians, -and, unless I am greatly mistaken, it was known even in Ur of the -Chaldeans, the city that was lost before the dawn of ancient Greece. - -The sky has sung of it, the bright stars have sung of it, the birds and -the flowers and the green meadows have sung of it. And far from the -brightness and the sunshine of the world I can lead you to a dark room -where, night and day, the air is filled with the whirring and buzzing -and droning and humming of sewing machines, and if you listen intently -you can hear the song they sing: “Love! Love! Love!” - - _Die Liebe ist eine alte Geschichte._ - -It is a foolish song, and somehow or other it has become sadly entangled -with the story of Erzik and Sarah, which is a foolish story that has -neither beginning nor end. Nor has it a plot or a meaning or anything at -all, for that matter, save the melody of spring and the perfume of -flowers. - -You see, Sarah’s eyes were brown and Erzik’s were blue, and they sat -side by side in the sweatshop where the sewing machines whirred and -buzzed and droned and hummed. And side by side they had sat for almost a -year, speaking hardly a dozen words a day, for they are silent people, -those Eastern Jews, and each time that Sarah looked up she could see -that Erzik’s eyes were blue, and she saw a light in them that brought -the blood to her cheeks and filled her with a strange joy and a resolve -not to look up again. - -And Erzik, wondering at the gladness in his heart, would smile, whereat -the sweater would frown, and the machines would whirr and buzz and drone -and hum more briskly. - -It was the fault of the black thread—or was it the white thread? One of -them, at least, had become entangled in the bobbin of Sarah’s sewing -machine, and in disentangling it the needle’s point pierced her skin, -drawing—a tiny drop of blood. Erzik turned pale, and tearing a strip -from his handkerchief—a piece of extravagance which exasperated the -sweater beyond all bounds—hastened to bind it around the wound. Then -Sarah laughed, and Erzik laughed, too, and of course he must hold the -finger close to his eyes to adjust the bandage, and then, before the -whole room, he kissed her hand. Then she slapped him upon one cheek, -whereupon he quickly offered the other, and they laughed, and all the -room laughed, save Esther, whose face was always white and pinched. - -Is it not a foolish story? That very night Erzik told Sarah that he -loved her, and she cried and told him she loved him, and then he cried, -and they both were happy. And on the next day they told the sweater that -they were soon going to be married, which did not interest him at all. - -It was gossip for half a day, and then it fell into the natural order of -things. The machines went on whirring and buzzing and droning and -humming, and Erzik and Sarah frequently looked up from their work and -gazed smilingly into each other’s eyes. Of this they never tired, and -through the spring their love grew stronger and deeper, and the machines -in the room never ceased to sing of it; even the sparrows that perched -upon the telegraph wires close by the windows chirped it all day long. - -Esther grew whiter and whiter, and her face became more and more -pinched. And one day she was not in her place. But neither Erzik nor -Sarah missed her. Another day and another, she was absent, and on the -following day they buried her. The rabbi brought a letter to Erzik. - -“She said it was for your wedding.” - -Carefully folded in a clean sheet of note paper lay three double eagles; -it was Esther’s fortune. - - _Die Liebe ist eine alte Geschichte._ - -Erzik and Sarah have been married a year, and they still sit side by -side in the sweatshop. Spring has come again, and the sewing machines -whirr and buzz and drone and hum, and through it all you can hear that -foolish old song. When they look up from their work and their eyes meet, -they smile. They are content with their lot in life, and they love each -other. - -The story runs in my head like an old song, and when the sky is blue, -and the birds sing, the melody is sweet beyond all words. Sometimes, -when the sky is grey and the air is heavy with a coming storm, it seems -as if there is a note of sadness in the song, as if a heart were crying. -But the sunshine makes it right again. - - - - - THE STORY OF SARAI - - -It was the idle hour of the mart, and the venders of Hester Street were -busy brushing away the flies. Mother Politsky had arranged her -patriarchal-looking fish for at least the twentieth time, and was -wondering whether it might not be better to take them home than to wait -another hour in the hope of a chance customer being attracted to her -stand. Suddenly a shadow fell across the fish. She looked up and beheld -a figure that looked for all the world as if it had just stepped out of -the pages of the Pentateuch. The venerable grey beard, the strong -aquiline nose, the grave blue eyes, and, above all, the air of -unutterable wisdom, completed a picture of one of Israel’s prophets. - -“God be with the Herr Rabbi!” greeted Mother Politsky. - -The rabbi poked a patriarchal finger into the fish, and grunted in -approbation of their firmness. - -“Are they fresh?” he asked, giving no heed to her salutation. - -“They were swimming in the sea this very day, Herr Rabbi. They could not -be fresher if they were alive. And the price is—oh, you’ll laugh at me -when I tell you—only twelve cents a pound.” - -The rabbi laughed, displaying fine, wide teeth. - -“Come, come, my good mother. Tell me without joking what they cost. This -big one, and that little one over there.” - -“But, Herr Rabbi, you surely cannot mean that that is too much! Well, -well—an old friend—eleven cents, we’ll say. Will you take the big one or -the little one?” - -The rabbi was still smiling. - -“My dear mother, you remind me of Sarai.” - -“And who was she?” asked Mother Politsky with interest. - -“Sarai was the beautiful daughter of the famous Rabbiner Emanuel ben -Achad, who lived many hundreds of years ago. She was famed for her -beauty, and likewise for her exceeding shrewdness. Yes, Sarai was very, -very clever.” - -“And I remind you of her? Well, well. What a beautiful thing it is to be -a rabbi and know so much about the past! Come, now, I’ll say ten cents, -and you can have your choice. Shall I wrap up the big——” - -“This Sarai,” the rabbi went on, “had many lovers, but of them all she -liked only two. One of these was the favourite of her father; the other -was a poor but handsome youth who was apprenticed to a scribe. For a -long time Sarai hesitated between the two. Each was handsome, each was a -devoted lover, each was gifted with no ordinary intelligence, and each -was brave. Yet she was undecided upon which to bestow her heart and her -hand.” - -The rabbi had picked up the big fish, and now paused to sniff at it. - -“And what did she do?” asked Mother Politsky. - -“Ten cents?” said the rabbi, and then, with a sigh, he laid down the -fish, as if it were hopelessly beyond his reach. - -“Nine, then, and take it, but what did Sarai do?” - -The rabbi looked long and intently at the fish, and then, shaking his -head sadly, resumed his narrative. - -“Sarai pondered over the matter for many, many weeks, and finally -decided to put them to a test. Now the name of her father’s favourite -was Ezra, while the poor youth was called Joseph. ‘Father,’ she said one -day, ‘what is the most difficult task that a man can be put to?’ ‘The -most difficult thing that I know of,’ her father promptly replied, ‘is -to grasp the real meaning of the Talmud.’ - -“Thereupon Sarai called Ezra and Joseph before her, and said to them: -‘He that brings to me the real meaning of the Talmud shall have my -hand.’ Was that not clever of her?” - -“Yes! Yes! But who brought the true answer?” asked Mother Politsky, with -breathless interest. The rabbi was looking longingly at the fish. - -“How much did you say?” - -“Eight cents, eight cents. I don’t want any profit, but who——” - -“Neither of the young men,” the rabbi went on, with his eyes still upon -the fish, “knew anything about the Talmud, but Joseph, who was well -versed in Hebrew, began at once to study it, wherein he had the -advantage over Ezra, who knew not a word of Hebrew.” - -“Poor Ezra!” murmured Mother Politsky. - -“But Ezra was a shrewd young man, and, without wasting any time upon -studying, he went straight to Sarai’s father and said to him: ‘Rabbi, -you are the greatest scholar of the world to-day. Can you tell me the -real meaning of the Talmud?’” - -“Poor Joseph!” murmured Mother Politsky. - -“‘My son,’ said Rabbi ben Achad, ‘all the wisdom of the human race since -the days of Moses has not been able to answer that question!’” - -The rabbi had taken up the big fish and the small one, and was carefully -balancing them. - -“Eight, you say. I know a place where I can get them——” - -“Seven, then. And Joseph?” - -“——for six.” - -“Seven is the lowest. But Jo——” - -The rabbi turned to move away. - -“All right. Six cents. But finish the story. What did Joseph do?” - -“Joseph studied many years and came to the same conclusion. I’ll take -the small one.” - -“But which of them married Sarai?” - -“The story does not say. You’re sure it is fresh?” - - - - - THE AMERICANISATION OF SHADRACH COHEN - - -There is no set rule for the turning of the worm; most worms, however, -turn unexpectedly. It was so with Shadrach Cohen. - -He had two sons. One was named Abel and the other Gottlieb. They had -left Russia five years before their father, had opened a store on Hester -Street with the money he had given them. For reasons that only business -men would understand they conducted the store in their father’s -name—and, when the business began to prosper and they saw an opportunity -of investing further capital in it to good advantage, they wrote to -their dear father to come to this country. - -“We have a nice home for you here,” they wrote. “We will live happily -together.” - -Shadrach came. With him he brought Marta, the serving-woman who had -nursed his wife until she died, and whom, for his wife’s sake, he had -taken into the household. When the ship landed he was met by two -dapper-looking young men, each of whom wore a flaring necktie with a -diamond in it. It took him some time to realise that these were his two -sons. Abel and Gottlieb promptly threw their arms around his neck and -welcomed him to the new land. Behind his head they looked at each other -in dismay. In the course of five years they had forgotten that their -father wore a gaberdine—the loose, baglike garment of the Russian -Ghetto—and had a long, straggling grey beard and ringlets that came down -over his ears—that, in short, he was a perfect type of the immigrant -whose appearance they had so frequently ridiculed. Abel and Gottlieb -were proud of the fact that they had become Americanised. And they -frowned at Marta. - -“Come, father,” they said. “Let us go to a barber, who will trim your -beard and make you look more like an American. Then we will take you -home with us.” - -Shadrach looked from one to the other in surprise. - -“My beard?” he said; “what is the matter with my beard?” - -“In this city,” they explained to him, “no one wears a beard like yours -except the newly landed, Russian Jews.” - -Shadrach’s lips shut tightly for a moment. Then he said: - -“Then I will keep my beard as it is. I am a newly landed Russian Jew.” -His sons clinched their fists behind their backs and smiled at him -amiably. After all, he held the purse-strings. It was best to humour -him. - -“What shall we do with Marta?” they asked. “We have a servant. We will -not need two.” - -“Marta,” said the old man, “stays with us. Let the other servant go. -Come, take me home. I am getting hungry.” - -They took him home, where they had prepared a feast for him. When he -bade Marta sit beside him at the table Abel and Gottlieb promptly turned -and looked out of the window. They felt that they could not conceal -their feelings. The feast was a dismal affair. Shadrach was racking his -brains to find some explanation that would account for the change that -had come over his sons. They had never been demonstrative in their -affection for him, and he had not looked for an effusive greeting. But -he realised immediately that there was a wall between him and his sons; -some change had occurred; he was distressed and puzzled. When the meal -was over Shadrach donned his praying cap and began to recite the grace -after meals. Abel and Gottlieb looked at each other in consternation. -Would they have to go through this at every meal? Better—far better—to -risk their father’s displeasure and acquaint him with the truth at once. -When it came to the response Shadrach looked inquiringly at his sons. It -was Abel who explained the matter: - -“We—er—have grown out of—er—that is—er—done away with—er—sort of fallen -into the habit, don’t you know, of leaving out the prayer at meals. It’s -not quite American!” - -Shadrach looked from one to the other. Then, bowing his head, he went on -with his prayer. - -“My sons,” he said, when the table had been cleared. “It is wrong to -omit the prayer after meals. It is part of your religion. I do not know -anything about this America or its customs. But religion is the worship -of Jehovah, who has chosen us as His children on earth, and that same -Jehovah rules supreme over America even as He does over the country that -you came from.” - -Gottlieb promptly changed the subject by explaining to him how badly -they needed more money in their business. Shadrach listened patiently -for a while, then said: - -“I am tired after my long journey. I do not understand this business -that you are talking about. But you may have whatever money you need. -After all, I have no one but you two.” He looked at them fondly. Then -his glance fell upon the serving-woman, and he added, quickly: - -“And Marta.” - -“Thank God,” said Gottlieb, when their father had retired, “he does not -intend to be stingy.” - -“Oh, he is all right,” answered Abel. “After he gets used to things he -will become Americanised like us.” - -To their chagrin, however, they began to realise, after a few months, -that their father was clinging to the habits and customs of his old life -with a tenacity that filled them with despair. The more they urged him -to abandon his ways the more eager he seemed to become to cling to them. -He seemed to take no interest in their business affairs, but he -responded, almost cheerfully, to all their requests for money. He began -to feel that this, after all, was the only bond between him and his -sons. And when they had pocketed the money, they would shake their heads -and sigh. - -“Ah, father, if you would only not insist upon being so old-fashioned!” -Abel would say. - -“And let us fix you up a bit,” Gottlieb would chime in. - -“And become more progressive—like the other men of your age in this -country.” - -“And wear your beard shorter and trimmed differently.” - -“And learn to speak English.” - -Shadrach never lost his temper; never upbraided them. He would look from -one to the other and keep his lips tightly pressed together. And when -they had gone he would look at Marta and would say: - -“Tell me what you think, Marta. Tell me what you think.” - -“It is not proper for me to interfere between father and sons,” Marta -would say. And Shadrach could never induce her to tell him what she -thought. But he could perceive a gleam in her eyes and observed a -certain nervous vigour in the way she cleaned the pots and pans for -hours after these talks, that fell soothingly upon his perturbed spirit. - - * * * * * - -As we remarked before, there is no rule for the turning of the worm. -Some worms, however, turn with a crash. It was so with Shadrach Cohen. - -Gottlieb informed his father that he contemplated getting married. - -“She is very beautiful,” he said. “The affair is all in the hands of the -Shadchen.” - -His father’s face lit up with pleasure. - -“Gottlieb,” he said, holding out his hand, “God bless you! It’s the very -best thing you could do. Marta, bring me my hat and coat. Come, -Gottlieb. Take me to see her. I cannot wait a moment. I want to see my -future daughter-in-law at once. How happy your mother would be if she -were alive to-day!” - -Gottlieb turned red and hung back. - -“I think, father,” he said, “you had better not go just yet. Let us wait -a few days until the Shadchen has made all the arrangements. She is an -American girl. She—she won’t—er—understand your ways—don’t you know? And -it may spoil everything.” - -Crash! Marta had dropped an iron pot that she was cleaning. Shadrach was -red in the face with suppressed rage. - -“So!” he said. “It has come to this. You are ashamed of your father!” -Then he turned to the old servant: - -“Marta,” he said, “to-morrow we become Americanised—you and I.” - -There was an intonation in his voice that alarmed his son. - -“You are not angry——” he began, but with a fierce gesture his father cut -him short. - -“Not another word. To bed! Go to bed at once.” - -Gottlieb was dumbfounded. With open mouth he stared at his father. He -had not heard that tone since he was a little boy. - -“But, father——” he began. - -“Not a word. Do you hear me? Not a word will I listen to. In five -minutes if you are not in bed you go out of this house. Remember, this -is my house.” - -Then he turned to Abel. Abel was calmly smoking a cigar. - -“Throw that cigar away,” his father commanded, sternly. - -Abel gasped and looked at his father in dismay. - -“Marta, take that cigar out of his mouth and throw it into the fire. If -he objects he goes out of the house.” - -With a smile of intense delight Marta plucked the cigar from Abel’s -unresisting lips, and incidentally trod heavily upon his toes. Shadrach -gazed long and earnestly at his sons. - -“To-morrow, my sons,” he said, slowly, “you will begin to lead a new -life.” - -In the morning Abel and Gottlieb, full of dread forebodings, left the -house as hastily as they could. They wanted to get to the store to talk -matters over. They had hardly entered the place, however, when the -figure of their father loomed up in the doorway. He had never been in -the place before. He looked around him with great satisfaction at the -many evidences of prosperity which the place presented. When he beheld -the name “Shadrach Cohen, Proprietor” over the door he chuckled. Ere his -sons had recovered from the shock of his appearance a pale-faced clerk, -smoking a cigarette, approached Shadrach, and in a sharp tone asked: - -“Well, sir, what do you want?” Shadrach looked at him with considerable -curiosity. Was he Americanised, too? The young man frowned impatiently. - -“Come, come! I can’t stand here all day. Do you want anything?” - -Shadrach smiled and turned to his sons. - -“Send him away at once. I don’t want that kind of young man in my -place.” Then turning to the young man, upon whom the light of revelation -had quickly dawned, he said, sternly: - -“Young man, whenever you address a person who is older than you, do it -respectfully. Honour your father and your mother. Now go away as fast as -you can. I don’t like you.” - -“But, father,” interposed Gottlieb, “we must have someone to do his -work.” - -“Dear me,” said Shadrach, “is that so? Then, for the present, you will -do it. And that young man over there—what does he do?” - -“He is also a salesman.” - -“Let him go. Abel will take his place.” - -“But, father, who is to manage the store? Who will see that the work is -properly done?” - -“I will,” said the father. “Now, let us have no more talking. Get to -work.” - -Crestfallen, miserable, and crushed in spirit, Abel and Gottlieb began -their humble work while their father entered upon the task of -familiarising himself with the details of the business. And even before -the day’s work was done he came to his sons with a frown of intense -disgust. - -“Bah!” he exclaimed. “It is just as I expected. You have both been -making as complete a mess of this business as you could without ruining -it. What you both lack is sense. If becoming Americanised means becoming -stupid, I must congratulate you upon the thoroughness of your work. -To-morrow I shall hire a manager to run this store. He will arrange your -hours of work. He will also pay you what you are worth. Not a cent more. -How late have you been keeping this store open?” - -“Until six o’clock,” said Abel. - -“H’m! Well, beginning to-day, you both will stay here until eight -o’clock. Then one of you can go. The other will stay until ten. You can -take turns. I will have Marta send you some supper.” - - * * * * * - -To the amazement of Abel and Gottlieb the business of Shadrach Cohen -began to grow. Slowly it dawned upon them that in the mercantile realm -they were as children compared with their father. His was the true -money-maker spirit; there was something wonderful in the swiftness with -which he grasped the most intricate phases of trade; and where -experience failed him some instinct seemed to guide him aright. And -gradually, as the business of Shadrach Cohen increased, and even the -sons saw vistas of prosperity beyond their wildest dreams, they began to -look upon their father with increasing respect. What they had refused to -the integrity of his character, to the nobility of his heart, they -promptly yielded to the shrewdness of his brain. The sons of Shadrach -Cohen became proud of their father. He, too, was slowly undergoing a -change. A new life was unfolding itself before his eyes, he became -broader-minded, more tolerant, and, above all, more flexible in his -tenets. Contact with the outer world had quickly impressed him with the -vast differences between his present surroundings and his old life in -Russia. The charm of American life, of liberty, of democracy, appealed -to him strongly. As the field of his business operations widened he came -more and more in contact with American business men, from whom he -learned many things—principally the faculty of adaptability. And as his -sons began to perceive that all these business men whom, in former days, -they had looked upon with feelings akin to reverence, seemed to show to -their father an amount of deference and respect which they had never -evinced toward the sons, their admiration for their father increased. - -And yet it was the same Shadrach Cohen. - -From that explosive moment when he had rebelled against his sons he -demanded from them implicit obedience and profound respect. Upon that -point he was stern and unyielding. Moreover, he insisted upon a strict -observance of every tenet of their religion. This, at first, was the -bitterest pill of all. But they soon became accustomed to it. When life -is light and free from care, religion is quick to fly; but when the sky -grows dark and life becomes earnest, and we feel its burden growing -heavy upon our shoulders, then we welcome the consolation that religion -brings, and we cling to it. And Shadrach Cohen had taught his sons that -life was earnest. They were earning their bread by the sweat of their -brow. No prisoner, with chain and ball, was subjected to closer -supervision by his keeper than were Gottlieb and Abel. - -“You have been living upon my charity,” their father said to them: “I -will teach you how to earn your own living.” - -And he taught them. And with the lesson they learned many things; -learned the value of discipline, learned the beauty of filial reverence, -learned the severe joy of the earnest life. - -One day Gottlieb said to his father: - -“May I bring Miriam to supper to-night? I am anxious that you should see -her.” - -Shadrach turned his face away so that Gottlieb might not see the joy -that beamed in his eyes. - -“Yes, my son,” he answered. “I, too, am anxious to see if she is worthy -of you.” - -Miriam came, and in a stiff, embarrassed manner Gottlieb presented her -to his father. The girl looked in surprise at the venerable figure that -stood before her—a picture of a patriarch from the Pentateuch, with a -long, straggling beard, and ringlets of hair falling over the ears, and -clad in the long gaberdine of the Russian Ghettos. And she saw a pair of -grey eyes bent keenly upon her—eyes of shrewdness, but soft and tender -as a woman’s—the eyes of a strong man with a kind heart. Impulsively she -ran toward him and seized his hands. And, with a smile upon her lips, -she said: - -“Will you not give me your blessing?” - - * * * * * - -When the evening meal had ended, Shadrach donned his praying cap, and -with bowed head intoned the grace after meals: - -“We will bless Him from whose wealth we have eaten!” And in fervent -tones rose from Gottlieb’s lips the response: - -“Blessed be He!” - - - - - HANNUKAH LIGHTS - - -Somewhere in transit he had lost all his letters, papers, credentials, -cards—all belongings, in fact, that might have established his identity. -He said he was David Parnes, and that he had come from Pesth. And, as he -was tall and straight, with fine black eyes and curling black hair, a -somewhat dashing presence, and the most charming manners, he soon made -friends, particularly among the women, for, in Houston Street, as -elsewhere, the fair sex rarely looks behind a pleasing personality for -credentials of character. - -Eulie, the waitress and maid-of-all-work in Weiss’s coffee house, felt -the blood surge to her face when first she beheld him, and when, for the -first time, he gave her _Trinkgeld_ and a smile, all the blood rushed -back to her heart. After that Eulie was his slave. All day long she -waited for him to come. When he had gone the place seemed dark, and the -music of the gipsy band grated upon her. While he was there—usually -sitting alone and sipping coffee and staring into vacancy like a man -whose mind is busy with many schemes—her heart beat faster, and life -seemed glad. Eulie was plain—painfully plain—but there was a charm about -her that had won the admiration of many of the patrons of the place, -some of whom had even offered her marriage. But she had only laughed, -and had declared that she would never marry. - -Sometimes these incidents came to the ear of Esther, the daughter of the -proprietor, and made her heart burn; for Esther was fair to look upon, -and yet had reached and passed her twentieth year without a single offer -of marriage. With all her beauty the girl was absolutely devoid of -charm; there was something even in the tone of her voice that repelled -men; probably a reflection of her arrogance and selfishness. Then, one -day, Eulie beheld her talking to David; saw that her face was animated, -and that David’s eyes were fastened intently upon her. In Esther’s eyes -she read that story which, between woman and woman, is an open book. -When her work was finished that night Eulie hastened to her room, and, -throwing herself upon the bed, burst into a flood of weeping. - -The affair progressed rapidly. There were times when Eulie, after -serving him with coffee, would stand silently behind David, gazing upon -him intently, yearning to throw her arms around that curly head and cry, -“I love you! I am your slave!” But these became rarer and rarer, for -Esther demanded more and more of his presence, and it was seldom that he -sat alone in the coffee house. Eulie had never seen him manifest any of -those lover-like demonstrations toward Esther that might have been -expected under the circumstances, but she attributed this to his pride. -Probably, she thought, when they were alone, beyond the reach of prying -eyes, he kissed her and caressed her to her heart’s content. The thought -of it wore on her spirit. And when, one day, Esther told her that they -were to be married at the end of a month Eulie turned pale and trembled, -and then hurried to her room. - -A few days after this announcement had been publicly made, and -congratulations had begun to pour in from the many patrons of the -establishment, who had known Esther from childhood, Eulie observed a -change in David’s demeanour. He seemed suddenly to have become worried. -He would come to the coffee house late at night, after Esther had -retired, and sit alone over his coffee, brooding. Eulie’s duties -permitted her to leave at nine o’clock, but if David had not come at -that hour, she continued to work, even until midnight, the closing time, -in the hope that she would see him enter. He rarely spoke to her, rarely -noticed her, in fact, but Eulie, in her heart, had established an -intimacy between them. An intimacy? Rather a world of love and devotion, -in which, alas! she lived alone with a shadow. - -She was quick to see the change that had come over him, and she longed -to speak to him—to implore him to confide in her. Was it money? She had -led a frugal life, and had saved the greater part of her earnings for -years. She would not trust her pittance to the banks. It was all in a -trunk in her room, and he was welcome to it. Was it service that he -needed? She was a slave ready to do his bidding. The tears came into her -eyes to see that face upon which light and laughter sat so gracefully -now cast down with gloom. But David worried on in silence, and left the -place without a word. - -Then, for several days, he did not come at all. Esther told her that he -had been called out of town on business. - -“Did—did he not look worried when last you saw him?” Eulie asked, -timidly. Esther’s eyes opened in surprise. - -“Why, no. I did not notice that he looked any different.” - -Eulie sighed. That night there came to one of her tables a brisk, -sharp-eyed little man, whose manner and accent betokened a new arrival -from Hungary. He bowed politely to Eulie, praised her skill in waiting -upon him, and complimented her upon her hair, which she wore flat upon -her head after the fashion of the peasant girls of Hungary. He gave her -liberal _Trinkgeld_, and bowed courteously when he departed. The next -evening he returned and greeted her as a newly made acquaintance. They -chatted pleasantly a while—he had much news from the mother country that -interested her—and then, quite by-the-way—Did she happen to know a young -man, tall and straight—quite good-looking, black eyes and curling hair, -a very pleasant chap, extremely popular with the girls? A friend had -told him that he would find this young man somewhere in the Hungarian -colony—did she know anyone who answered that description? His eyes were -turned from her—he was watching the gipsies playing—it was all quite -casual. - -It is said that love creates a sixth sense. In a flash Eulie’s whole -nature shrank from this man, and stood at arms ready for battle. This -was no friend in search of a boon companion. This was an enemy—a mortal -enemy of David. She felt it, knew it as positively as if she had seen -him fly at David’s throat. Fortunately the man had not observed the -pallor that overspread her countenance. - -“No. I do not remember having seen such a man. He never comes here, or I -would have remembered him.” - -That night was the beginning of the feast of Hanukkah—the only feast at -which the penitential psalms are omitted, lest they might mar the -joyfulness of the celebration. Esther was away, and it was Eulie’s duty -to light the candles in the living room overhead. The sun was fast -sinking, but the light of day still lingered in the sky. Eulie felt that -it might be sacrilegious to hasten so holy a function, but a sudden -nervous dread had come over her, and there was fear in her heart. - -“I will light the candles now,” she said. “Then I will wait outside in -the street, and if he comes I will warn him.” - -Swiftly, lightly, she sped up the stairs to the living room. The door -was open, and the light from the hall lamp shone dimly into the furthest -corner, where, with his back turned to the door, stood, or rather knelt, -David Parnes before a desk in which the coffee house proprietor kept his -money. Eulie recoiled, shocked, horrified. Then, swift as a lightning -stroke came full revelation. He was a thief! She had always suspected -something like that. And she loved him—adored him more than ever at this -moment! Eulie was an honest girl, an honest peasant girl, descended from -a long line of peasants, all as honest as the day. But the world was -against the man she loved. Honesty? To the winds with honesty! With a -rush she was at his side. - -“Listen!” she whispered, excitedly. “There is the key. Over there on the -wall. The money is in the top drawer. Take it and fly. There is a man -below from Hungary looking for you. I told him you did not come here. -You can get away before he finds you. I will never tell. I swear I will -never tell. Quick! You must fly!” - -The young man had turned quickly when she entered, but after that he had -not moved. He was still upon one knee. Had a thunderbolt fallen from the -ceiling he could not have been more astonished. He looked at Eulie in -bewilderment. - -“Wait!” she cried. “I will be back in a second. Open the desk and take -all the money, and then I will be back.” - -It seemed to him but an instant—Eulie had gone and had returned. He was -still kneeling—almost petrified with amazement. Eulie held out an old, -stained, leather pocketbook. - -“It is all mine,” she whispered. “Take it. Run! You must not wait!” - -Slowly he rose to his feet. Once or twice he passed his hand over his -eyes as if he feared he was dreaming. - -“Eulie?” - -There was a world of incredulity, of bewilderment, of questioning in his -voice. - -“Oh, do not stay!” cried the poor girl. “They will be looking for you. -Go, before it is too late. Go far away. They will never find you.” - -“I do not understand,” he said, slowly. “What does it mean?” - -A sudden weakness overcame Eulie, and she burst into tears. He advanced -toward her. - -“Why are you doing this?” he asked. Eulie could not speak. Her frame was -convulsed with sobbing; the tears were streaming down her cheeks; David, -open-mouthed, stood gazing at her. The pocketbook had fallen from her -hand, and a small heap of bank notes had slipped from it. David looked -at them; then at her. Slowly he advanced to where she stood. As gently -as he could he drew her hands from her face and turned her head toward -the light in the hall. - -“Eulie?” - -The blood coursed to her cheeks. Her gaze fell. She tore herself from -his clasp. - -“For God’s sake, go!” she cried. He restored the money to the pocketbook -and placed it in her hands. Then he started toward the door. - -“You will not take it?” she asked, piteously. “It is all mine. I give it -to you freely. Borrow it if you like. Some day you can send it back.” - -He shook his head, stood irresolute for a moment, then returned to her. - -“Eulie,” he whispered. “My mother is dead. But in heaven she is blessing -you!” - -Then he kissed her upon the forehead and walked determinedly out of the -room. Eulie stood swaying to and fro, for a moment, then tottered and -fell to the floor. David stood on the stairs a full minute, breathing -heavily, like a man who has been running. Then his teeth clicked tightly -together, he drew a long breath, walked briskly down the steps, and -strode into the brilliantly lighted coffee house. - -He knew the man at once. He had never seen him before, but unerring -instinct pointed out his pursuer. He walked straight toward him. - -“When do we start for Pesth?” he asked. - -The man eyed him narrowly, gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment, then -his face lit up. - -“By the next steamer, if you like,” was all he said. - -David nodded. - -“Good,” he said. Then, after a moment’s hesitation: - -“Will you come upstairs with me for a moment?” - -Without a word the man accompanied him. They found Eulie, pale as a -ghost, standing at the mantel, lighting the Hannukah candles. When she -beheld David with his captor, she screamed, and would have fallen had -not David sprung forward and caught her in his arms. - -“Listen,” he said, speaking rapidly. “I am going back. My name is not -David Parnes. I will write in a few days and tell you everything. They -will send me to prison. In two or three years I shall be free. Then I am -coming back for you.” - -He held her in his arms for one brief moment, kissed her again on the -forehead, and was gone. Then the tears came afresh to Eulie’s eyes. But -through her veins coursed a tumult of joy. - - - - - A SWALLOW-TAILER FOR TWO - - -“Isidore? Bah! Never again do I want dot name to hear! - -“Isidore? A loafer he iss! Sure! Ve vas friends vunce, unt don’t I know -vot a loafer he iss? Ven a man iss a loafer nobody knows it better as -his best friend. - -“Don’t you remember by der night uf der two Purim balls? Vot? No? Yes! -Dere vas two Purim balls by der same night; der one vas across der -street from der odder. Yes. Der one, dot vas der Montefiore Society. I -vas der president. Der odder, dot vas der Baron Hirsch Literary -Atzociation. Isidore vas der vice-president. - -“Isidore unt I lived together. Oh, ve vas such friends! David unt -Jonathan dey vas not better friends as me unt Isidore. Everyt’ing vot -Isidore had could belong also to me. Unt if I had somet’ing I always -told Isidore dot I had it. I did not know vot a loafer he vas. - -“So it comes der day of der Montefiore ball, unt I ask Izzy if he iss -going. ‘No, Moritz,’ he says, ‘I am going by der Baron Hirsch ball.’ -‘But anyway,’ I says, ‘let us go by der tailor unt hire for rent our -evening-dress swallow-tails.’ ‘Sure,’ he says. Unt ve vent by der -tailor’s. But dot vas such a busy times dot every tailor ve vent to said -he vas so sorry but he had already hired out for rent all der -swallow-tails vot he had, unt he didn’t haf no more left. Ve vent from -every tailor vot ve know to every odder tailor. Der last vun he vas a -smart feller. He says: ‘Gents, I got vun suit left, but it iss der only -vun.’ Den Izzy unt me looked into our faces. Vot could ve do? - -“‘Id iss no use,’ I says, unt Izzy says it vas no use, unt ve vas just -going away, ven der smart tailor says: ‘Vy don’t you take der suit unt -each take a turn to wear it?’ So Izzy says to me, ‘Moritz, dot’s a idea. -You can wear der suit by der Montefiore ball, unt I can wear it by der -Baron Hirsch ball. Der dancing vill be all night. You can have it from -nine o’clock until it is elefen o’clock. Dot iss two hours. Den you can -excuse yourself. Den I put on der suit und wear it by der Baron Hirsch -ball from elefen o’clock until id iss vun o’clock in der morning. Den I -excuse myself. Den, Moritz, you can haf it again by der Montefiore ball -until id iss t’ree o’clock. Dot iss two more hours, unt if I want it -after t’ree o’clock I can haf it for two hours more.’ - -“Say! Dot Izzy iss a great schemer. He has a brain like a Napoleon. He -iss a loafer, but he iss a smart vun. So, anyvay, ve took der suit. Der -tailor charged us two dollars—oh, he vas a skin!—unt Izzy unt I said ve -would each pay half, unt ve each gave der tailor a gold watch to keep -for der security uv der suit. Unt den—I remember it like if it vas -yesterday—I looked into Isidore’s eye unt I said: ‘Isidore, iss it your -honest plan to be fair unt square?’ Because, I vill tell you, der vas -somet’ing in my heart dot vas saying, he vill play some crooked -business! But Isidore held out his hand unt said, ‘Moritz, you know -_me_!’ Unt I trusted him! - -“So ve went to der room ve lived in unt I put der suit on. It fitted me -fine. I look pretty good in a evening swallow-tail unt Isidore says I -looked like a regular aritztocrat. - -“‘Be careful, Moritz,’ he says, ‘unt keep der shirt clean.’ I forgot to -tell you dot ve hired a shirt, too, because it vas cheaper as two -shirts. ‘Come, Moritz,’ he says, ‘let us go!’ ‘Us!’ I says, astonished. -‘Are you coming by der Montefiore ball, too?’ ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘You are -der president, unt you can get me in without a ticket. I don’t have to -wear a swallow-tail evening dresser because I ain’d a member.’ - -“It took me only a second to t’ink der matter over. I am such a qvick -t’inker. If he comes to my ball, I says to myself, I vill come by his! -‘Sure, Izzy,’ I says. ‘As my friend you are velcome.’ So ve vent to der -Montefiore ball. - -“Der moment ve got into der ballroom I seen vot a nasty disposition -Isidore got. ‘Izzy,’ I says, ‘go get acqvainted mit a nice lady, unt -dance unt enjoy yourself unt I vill see you again at elefen o’clock.’ -‘No, Moritz,’ he says. ‘I vill stick by you.’ I am a proud man, so I -said, very dignified, ‘All right, if you vill have it so.’ - -“Unt Isidore stuck. Efry time I looked around me I seen his eyes keepin’ -a look-out on der swallow-tail evening dress. Such big eyes Isidore had -dot night! ‘Don’t vatch me like dot, Izzy,’ I said. ‘Dey vill t’ink you -are a detectif, unt dot I stole somet’ing.’ Efrytime I drops a leetle -tiny bit from a cigar ashes on my swallow-tail shirt Izzy comes running -up mit a handkerchief unt cleans it off. Efry time I sits down on a -chair Izzy comes up unt vispers in my ear, ‘Moritz, please don’t get -wrinkles in der swallow-tail. Remember, I got to wear it next.’ Efry -time I took a drink Moritz comes unt holds der handkerchief under der -glass so dot der beer should not drop on der swallow-tail shirt. ‘Izzy,’ -I says to him, ‘I am astonished.’ - -“So a hour vent by unt den comes in Miss Rabinowitz. Ven I see her I -forget all about Isidore, unt about everyt’ing else. Oh, she is nice! I -says, ‘Miss Rabinowitz, can I haf der pleasure uv der next dance?’ ‘No,’ -she says, ‘I ain’d dancing to-night because my shoes hurts me. But ve -can haf der pleasure of sidding out der next dance togedder.’ Den she -says to her mamma, ‘Mamma, I am going to sid out der next dance mit dis -gentleman friend of mine. You can go somevere else unt enjoy yourself.’ -Dot gave me a idea. ‘Isidore,’ I says—Isidore was right on top uv my -heels—‘gif Miss Rabinowitz’s mamma der pleasure of your company for a -half-hour, like a good friend.’ - -“Isidore looks a million daggers in my eye, but he couldn’t say nodding. - -“He had to do it. Unt I found a qviet place where it vas a little dark, -unt Miss Rabinowitz sat close by me unt I vas holding her hand unt I vas -saying to myself, ‘Moritz, dis is der opportunity to tell her der secret -of your life—to ask her if she vill be yours! Her old man has a big -factory unt owns t’ree houses!’ Unt den I looked up, unt dere vas -Isidore. - -“‘V’y did you leave Mrs. Rabinowitz?’ I asked. He gafe me a terrible -look. ‘Moritz,’ he says, ‘Id iss elefen o’clock unt der time has come.’ -‘Vot time?’ asked Miss Rabinowitz. ‘Oh, Moritz knows vot I mean,’ he -says. So I excused myself for a minute unt I vispered in Izzy’s ear, -‘Izzy,’ I says, ‘if you love me, if you are a friend of mine, if you -vant to do me der greatest favour in der vorld—I ask you on my knees to -gif me a extra half-hour! Dis iss der greatest moment uv my life!’ But -Isidore only shooked his head. ‘Elefen o’clock,’ he said. ‘Remember der -agreement!’ ‘A qvarter of a hour,’ I begged. I had tears in my eyes. But -Isidore only scraped a spot off my swallow-tail shirt unt den he said, -‘Moritz, I vill tell you vot I’ll do. I vouldn’t do dis for nobody else -in der, vorld except my best friend. You can wear der suit ten minutes -longer for fifty cents. Does dot suit you?’ Vot could I do? I looked at -him mit sorrow. ‘Isidore,’ I said, awful sad, ‘I didn’t know you could -be such a loafer! But you haf der advantage. I will do it.’ - -“He even made me pay der fifty cents cash on der spot, unt den he vent -off to a corner where he could keep his eyes on der clock unt vatch me -at der same time. Dose fifty cents vas wasted. How could I ask a lady to -marry me mit dem big eyes of Isidore keeping a sharp watch on der -clothes I had on? - -“‘Id iss no use, Miss Rabinowitz,’ I says. ‘I had a matter uv terrible -importance vot I vanted to tell you, but my friend iss in great trouble, -unt ven Isidore has troubles in his heart, my heart iss heavy!’ ‘Oh,’ -she says, so sveet, ‘you are such a nobleman! It makes der tears come to -my eyes to hear of such friendships!’ - -“Dot vill show you vot a prize she vas. I hated to tell her a lie, but -vot could I do? So I says I haf to go out mit Izzy unt get him out of -his trouble, but at der end of two hours I come back. ‘I will wait for -you,’ she says. Unt den, mit a cold, murder eye, I goes to Isidore unt -says to him, ‘Come, false friend! I keep der agreement!’ - -“So Isidore dusts off my coat unt says he found a room upstairs where ve -could change der clothes. Ven ve got to der room I took der swallow-tail -evening-dress coat off, unt der vest off, unt der pants off, unt der -shirt off, unt I says to Isidore, ‘Dere iss not a spot on dem! I shall -expect you to gif dem back to me in der same condition ven der two hours -iss up. Remember dot!’ Unt den a horrible idea comes into my head. ‘Vot -am I going to wear?’ I says. ‘I don’t know,’ says Isidore. He had -already put der pants on. ‘Unt I don’t care,’ he says. ‘But if you vant -to put my clothes on, for friendship’s sake I lend dem to you.’ - -“You know how little unt fat dot Isidore iss. Unt you see how tall unt -skinny I am. But vot could I do? If I vent home to put on my own clothes -I know it would be good-bye Isidore unt der swallow-tail evening suit. I -would never see dem again. I couldn’t trust dot false face. ‘Moritz,’ I -says to myself, ‘don’d leave dot swallow-tailer out uv your sight. No -matter how foolish you look in Isidore’s short pants, put dem on. You -aint a member uv der Baron Hirsch Literary Atzociation. You don’d care -if your appearances iss against you. Stick to Isidore!’ So I put on his -old suit. My! It vas so shabby after dot fine swallow-tailer! Unt I felt -so foolish! But, anyvay, dere vas vun satisfaction. Der swallow-tailer -didn’t fit Isidore a bit. He had to roll der pants up in der bottom. Unt -der shirt vouldn’t keep shut in front—he vas so fat—unt you could see -his undershirt. I nearly laughed—he looked so foolish. But I didn’t say -anyt’ing—nefer again I vould haf no jokes mit Isidore. Only dot vun -night—unt after dot our friendships vas finished. - -“So ve vent to der Baron Hirsch’s across der street. Ven ve got by der -door Isidore asked me, astonished-like, ‘Haf you got a ticket, Moritz?’ -‘No,’ I says, ‘but you are der vice-president, unt you can pass in your -friend.’ But Isidore shooked his head. ‘Der rules,’ he said, ‘uv der -Baron Hirsch Literary Atzociation is different from der rules uv der -Montefiore Society. Efrybody vot ain’d a member has got to pay.’ - -“Say, vasn’t dot a nasty vun, vot? But vot could I do? It cost me a -qvarter, but I paid it. Unt as soon as ve got in by der ballroom Isidore -got fresh. ‘Moritz,’ he says, ‘ve vill let gone-bys be gone-bys, unt no -monkey business. I vill introduce you to a nice young lady vot got a -rich uncle, unt you can sit unt talk mit her while I go unt haf a good -time. At vun o’clock sharp I vill come back unt keep der agreement.’ - -“‘Isidore,’ I says, awful proud, ‘vit your nice young ladies I vill got -nodding to do. But to show you dot I ain’d no loafer I vill sit out in -der hall unt trust you.’ - -“So I took a seat all by myself. My! I felt so foolish in Izzy’s -clothes! Unt Izzy vent inside by der wine-room, where dey was all -drinking beer. ‘Moritz,’ I says to myself, ‘you make a mistake to haf so -much trust in dot false face. Maybe he iss getting spots on der shirt. -Maybe he is spilling beer on der swallow-tailer. He iss not der kind uv -a man to take good care vit a evening dresser. ‘Moritz,’ I says it to -myself, ‘be suspicious!’ Unt dot made me so nervous dot I couldn’t sit -still. So I vent unt took a peek into der wine-room. - -“Mein Gott, I nearly vent crazy! Dere vas dot loafer mit a big beer spot -on my shirt in der front, unt drinking a glass of beer unt all der foam -dropping in big, terrible drops on der pants uv der swallow-tailer. I -vent straight to his face unt said, ‘Loafer, der agreement is broke. You -haf got spots on it. You are a false vun!’ Unt den Isidore—loafer vot he -iss—punched me vun right on der nose. Vot could I do? He vas der -commencer. I vas so excited dot I couldn’t say nodding. I punched him -vun back unt den ve rolled on der floor. - -“Ve punched like regular prize-fighters. I done my best to keep der -swallow-tailer clean, unt Izzy done der best to keep his suit vot I had -on clean, but dere vas a lot of beer on der floor unt ven der committee -come unt put us out in der street—my! ve looked terrible! But nobody -could make no more monkey business vit me dat night. ‘Izzy,’ I says—I -vas holding him in der neck—‘take dot evening dresser off or else gif up -all hopes!’ I vas a desperate character, unt he could read it in der -tone uv my voice. He took der swallow-tailer off—right out on der -sidewalk uv der street. Den I put it on unt I vas getting all dressed -while he vas standing in his underclothes, trying to insult me. Unt just -ven I got all dressed unt he vas standing mit der pants in his hands -calling me names vot I didn’t pay no attention to, but vot I vill get -revenge for some time, dere comes up a p’liceman. Ve both seen him -together, but I vas a qvicker t’inker as Isidore, so I says, ‘Mister -P’liceman, dis man iss calling me names.’ He vas a Irisher, dot -p’liceman, unt he hit Izzy vun mit his club, unt says, ‘Vot do you mean -by comin’ in der street mitout your clothes on? You are a prisoner!’ So -I says, ‘Good-night, Isidore!’ unt I run across der street to der -Montefiore ball. Dey all looked at me ven I got in like if dey wanted to -talk to me, but I vas t’inking only uv Miss Rabinowitz. I found her by -her mamma. - -“‘Miss Rabinowitz,’ I says, ‘I haf kept my word. I promised to come -back, unt here I am!’ She gafe me a look vot nearly broked my heart. -‘You are a drunker,’ she says. - -“‘Miss Rabinowitz,’ I says, ‘dem iss hard words.’ ‘Go away,’ she says. -‘You look like a loafer. Instead of helping your friend you haf been -drinking.’ Den her mamma gafe me a look unt says, ‘Drunken loafer, go -‘way from my daughter or I will call der police.’ - -“Vot could I do? As proud as I could I left her. Den a committee comes -up to me unt says, ‘Moritz, go home. You look sick.’ Dey vas all -laughing. Den somebody says, ‘He smells like a brewery vagon.’ Vot could -I do? I vent home. - -“Der next morning Isidore comes home. ‘Moritz,’ he says, ‘you are a -fool.’ I gafe him vun look in his eye. ‘Isidore,’ I says, ‘you are der -biggest loafer I haf efer seen.’ Ve haf never had a conversation since -dot day. - -“My! Such a loafer!” - - - - - DEBORAH - - -Her name was Deborah. When Hazard first saw her she was sitting on the -steps of a tenement with Berman at her side, Berman’s betrothal ring on -her finger, Berman’s arm around her waist. “Beauty and the beast!” -Hazard murmured as he stood watching them. He was an artist, and a -search for the picturesque had led him into Hester Street—where he found -it. - -Presently Hazard crossed the street, and, with a low bow and an air of -modest hesitation that became him well, begged Berman to present his -compliments to the young lady at his side and to ask her if she would -allow an enthusiastic artist to make a sketch of her face. Hester Street -is extremely unconventional. Deborah looked up into the blue eyes of the -artist, and, with a faint blush, freed herself from her companion’s -embrace. Then she smiled and told the artist he could sketch her. In a -twinkling Hazard produced book and pencil. While he sketched they -chatted together, ignoring Berman completely, who sat scowling and -unhappy. When the sketch was finished the artist handed it to Deborah -and begged her to keep it. But would she not come some day to pose for -him in his studio? Her mother or sister or—with a jerk of his thumb—this -sturdy chap at her side could accompany her. And she would be well paid. -Her face fitted wonderfully into a painting he was working on, and he -had been looking for a model for weeks. His mother lived at the studio -with him—the young lady would be well cared for—five or six visits would -be sufficient—a really big painting. Yes. Deborah would go. - -When Hazard had departed, Deborah turned to her lover and observed, with -disappointment, that he looked coarse and ill-favoured. - -“It is getting late,” she said. “I am going in.” - -“Why, _Liebchen_,” Berman protested. “It is only eight o’clock!” - -“I am very tired. Good-night!” - -Berman sat alone, gazing at the stars, struggling vainly to formulate in -distinct thoughts the depth and profundity of his love for Deborah and -the cause of that mysterious feeling of unrest, of unhappiness, of -portending gloom that had suddenly come over him. But he was a -simple-minded person, and his brain soon grew weary of this unaccustomed -work. It was easier to fasten his gaze upon a single star and to marvel -how its brightness and purity reminded him so strongly of Deborah. - -In the weeks that followed he saw but little of Deborah, and each time -he observed with dismay that a change had come over the girl. In the -company of her mother she had been visiting Hazard’s studio regularly, -and the only subject upon which Berman could get her to talk with any -degree of interest was the artist and his work. - -“Oh, it is a wonderful picture that he is painting!” she said. “It is -the picture of a great queen, with a man kneeling at her feet, and I am -the queen. I sit with a beautiful fur mantle over my shoulder, and, -would you believe it, before I have been sitting five minutes I begin to -feel as though I really were a queen. He is a great artist. Mamma sits -looking at the picture that he is painting hour after hour. It is a -wonderful likeness. And his mother is so kind to me. She has given me -such beautiful dresses. And not a day goes by but what I learn something -new and good from her. I am so ashamed of my ignorance.” - -“Each time I see her,” thought Berman, “she grows more beautiful. How -could anyone help painting a beautiful picture of her? She is growing -like a flower. She is too good, too sweet, too beautiful for me!” - -The blow came swiftly, unexpectedly. She came to his home while he sat -at supper with his parents. - -“Do not blame me,” she said. “I prayed night after night to God to make -me love you, but it would not come. It is better to find it out before -it is too late. You have been so kind, so good to me that it breaks my -heart. Is it not better to come to you and to tell the truth?” - -Berman had turned pale. “Is it the painter?” he whispered. A flood of -colour surged to Deborah’s cheeks. Her eyes fell before his. - -“He is a Christian, Deborah—a Christian!” he murmured, hoarsely. Then -Deborah’s colour left her cheeks, and the tears started to her eyes. - -“I know it! I know it! But——” Then with an effort she drew herself up. -“It is better that we should part. Good-bye!” - -“Good-bye!” said Berman. And his father arose and called after the -departing figure: - -“The peace of God go with you!” - -With an artist’s eye Hazard had been quick to perceive the beauty of -Deborah, and the possibilities of its development, and, with an artist’s -temperament, he derived the keenest pleasure from watching that beauty -grow and unfold. Her frequent presence, the touch of her hand and cheek -as he helped her to pose, her merry laughter, and, above all, those big, -trusting brown eyes in which he read, as clear as print, her love, her -adoration for himself, all began to have their effect upon him. And, one -day, when they were alone, and suddenly looking up, he had surprised in -her eyes a look of such tenderness and sweetness that his brain reeled, -he flung his brush angrily to the floor and cried: - -“Confound it, Deborah, I can’t marry you!” - -Deborah, without surprise, without wonderment, began to cry softly: “I -know it! I have always known it!” she said. And when he saw the tears -rolling down her cheeks he sprang to her side and clasped her in his -arms, and whispered words of love in her ear, and kissed her again and -again. - -An old story, is it not? Aye, as old as life, as old as sin! And always -the same—so monotonously the same. And always so pitiful. It is such a -tempting path; the roses bloom redder here, and sweeter than anywhere -else in the wide world. But there is always the darkness at the end—the -same, weary darkness—the poor eyes that erstwhile shone so brightly grow -dim in the vain endeavour to pierce it. - -Like a flower that has blossomed to full maturity Deborah began to wilt -and fade. Her beauty quickly vanished—beauty in Hester Street is rarely -durable—Deborah grew paler and paler, thinner and thinner. To do him -full justice Hazard was greatly distressed. It was a great pity, he -thought, that Deborah had not been born a Christian. Had she been a -Christian he could have married her without blasting his whole future -career. As it was—Fate had been cruel. Let Hazard have full justice. - -But it fell like a thunderbolt upon Berman when Deborah’s mother sent -for him. - -“She has been raving for two days, and she keeps calling your name! -Won’t you sit by her bedside for a while? It may calm her!” - -His heart almost stopped beating when he beheld how frail and fever-worn -were the features that he had loved so well. When he took her hand in -his the touch burned—burned through to his heart, his brain, his soul. - -“Berman will not come!” she cried. “He was kind to me, and I was so -cruel. He will not come!” - -Berman tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Then, with -that sing-song intonation of those who are delirious with brain fever, -Deborah spoke—it sounded like the chanting of a dirge: “Ah, he was so -cruel! What did it matter that I was a Jewess! What did it matter that -he was a Christian! I never urged him, because I loved him so! He said -it would ruin his career! But, oh, he could have done it! We would have -been so happy! Once he made the sign of the Cross on my cheek. But I -told him I would become a Christian if he wanted me to. What did I care -for my religion? I cared for nothing but him! But he was so cruel! So -cruel! So cruel!” - -It was more than blood could stand. With a cry of anguish Berman fled -from the room. In the dawn of the following day Deborah’s mother, grey -and worn, came out of the tenement. She saw Berman sitting on the steps. -“It is over!” she said. Berman looked at her and slowly nodded. “All -over!” he said. - -When Hazard awoke that morning his servant told him that a -strange-looking man wished to see him in the studio. “A model,” thought -Hazard. “Tell him to wait.” Berman waited. He waited an hour. Then the -Oriental curtains rustled, and Hazard appeared. He had walked halfway -across the room before he recognised Berman. He recognised him as the -man who sat beside Deborah when he had first seen her. The man who had -his arm around her waist. The man whom he had referred to as a sturdy -chap—who had, indeed, looked strong and big on that starry night. And -who now loomed before his eyes in gigantic proportions. He recognised -him—and a sudden chill struck his heart. Berman walked toward him. -Without a word, without the faintest warning, he clutched the artist by -the throat, stifling every sound. The artist struggled, as a mouse -struggles in the grasp of a cat. From his pocket Berman drew a penknife. -He could hold his victim easily with one hand. He opened the blade with -his teeth. As a man might bend a reed, Berman bent the artist’s back -until his head rested upon his knee. Then, quickly, he slashed him twice -across the cheek, making the sign of a cross. - -“You might have married her!” he whispered, hoarsely. Then he threw the -helpless figure from him and slowly walked out of the room. - -The newspapers told next day, how a maniac had burst into the studio of -Hazard, the distinguished young painter, and without the slightest -provocation had cut him cruelly about the face. The police were on the -slasher’s trail, but Hazard doubted if he could identify the man again -if he saw him. “It was so unexpected,” he said. To this day he carries a -curious mark on his right cheek—exactly like a cross. - - - - - AN INTERRUPTION - - -In the story books the tragedies of life work themselves out to more or -less tragic conclusions. In real life the most tragic tragedies are -those that have no conclusion—that can have no conclusion until death -writes “Finis!” From which one might argue that many of us would be -better off if we lived in novels. Chertoff, however, lived in Hester -Street, and therefore had to abide by his destiny. - -Chertoff was a hunchback. He had a huge head and tremendously long arms -and features of waxen pallor. Children who saw him for the first time -would run from him with fright and would hide in doorways until he had -passed. Yet those who knew him loved him, for under his repellent -exterior throbbed a warm heart, and his nature was kindly and cheering. -In Gurtman’s sweatshop, where he toiled from dawn to nightfall, he was -loved by all—that is, all save Gurtman—for when the day’s task seemed -hardest and the click and roar of the machines chanted the song of -despair that all sweatshop workers know so well, Chertoff would burst -into a lively tune and fill the room with gladness. Then he would gossip -and tell interesting stories and bandy jests with anyone in the room who -showed the slightest disposition to contribute a moment’s gaiety to the -dreary, heart-breaking routine. - -It was before the days of the factory inspectors, and conditions were -bad—so bad that if anyone were to tell you how bad they were you would -never believe it. In those days a bright spirit in a sweatshop was no -common thing. One day Gurtman announced that there would be a reduction -of three cents on piece-work, and a great silence fell upon the room. A -woman gasped as if something had struck her. And Chertoff struck up a -merry Russian tune: - - “_The miller in his Sunday clothes - Came riding into Warsaw._” - -“Why do you always sing those silly tunes?” Gurtman asked, peevishly. - -And then Chertoff closed his eyes and answered: - -“Perhaps to save your life! Who knows?” - -Then he opened his eyes and laughed, and many laughed with him at the -very silliness of the retort, but the sweater only disliked him the more -for it. It was a curious habit of Chertoff’s to close his eyes when -something stung him, and it worked a startling transformation in his -expression. It was as if a light had been extinguished and a sudden -gloom had overspread his features. The lines became sharp, and something -sinister would creep into his countenance. But in a moment his eyes -would open and a light of kindness would illumine his face. - -Twice this transformation had come upon him and had lingered long enough -to make the room uneasy. The first time was when Chertoff’s mother, who -had worked at the machine side by side with her son for five years, was -summarily dismissed. Chertoff had asked the sweater for the reason. In -the hearing of all the room Gurtman had curtly replied: - -“She’s too old for work. She’s too slow. I don’t want her.” - -They thought that Chertoff was fainting, so ashen and so haggard did his -features become. But when he opened his eyes and smiled the iron rod -that he held in his hands was seen by all to have been bent almost -double. The other time—and oh! how this must have rankled!—was when -Gurtman jestingly taunted Chertoff with being enamoured of Babel. For it -was true. Chertoff, in addition to his skill as a workman, was an expert -mechanic, and was quite valuable in the shop in keeping the sewing -machines in repair. He was sitting under a machine with a big -screw-driver in his hand when Gurtman, in a burst of pleasantry, asked -him if it were true that he loved Babel. For a long time no answer came. -Then the screw-driver rolled to the sweater’s feet, crumpled almost into -a ball, and Chertoff’s merry voice rang out: - -“Of course I love Babel! Who does not?” - -And then all laughed—all save Babel, who reddened and frowned, for, with -all her poverty and with all the struggle for existence that had been -her lot since she was old enough to tread a pedal, Babel was a sensitive -creature, and did not like to hear her name flung to and fro in the -sweatshop. Was Babel pretty? “When a girl has lovely eyes,” says the -Talmud, “it is a token that she is pretty.” Babel had lovely eyes, and -must, therefore, have been pretty. Yet what matters it? Chertoff was -eating out his heart with vain longing for Babel, suffering all the -tortures of unrequited passion, all the agonies that he suffers who -yearns with all the strength of his being to possess what he knows can -never be his. Is not that the true tragedy of life? So what matters it -if Babel be not to your taste or mine? Chertoff loved her. - -He had never told Babel that he loved her; never had asked her whether -she cared for him. He had spared himself added misery. Content to -suffer, he did his best to conceal his hopeless passion, and strove with -all his might to lighten the burden of gloom that was the lot of his -fellow-workers. He never could understand, however, why the sweater had -taken so strong a dislike to him. Surely Gurtman could envy him nothing. -Why should a strong, fine-looking man—a rich man, too, as matters went -in Hester Street—take pleasure in tormenting an ugly, good-natured -cripple? It was strange, yet true. Perhaps it was that Chertoff’s cheery -disposition grated upon the brooding, gloomy temperament of the sweater, -or perhaps the cripple’s popularity in the sweatshop was an offence in -his employer’s eyes, or perhaps it was merely one of those unreasoning -antipathies that one man often feels toward another and for which he can -give not the slightest explanation. It was an undeniable fact, however, -that the sweater hated his hunchback employee, and would never have -tolerated him had Chertoff not been so valuable a workman, and, deeming -it unprofitable to discharge him, vented his dislike in baiting and -tormenting Chertoff whenever an opportunity offered itself. And had it -not been for Babel, Chertoff would have gone elsewhere. Hopeless though -he knew his longing to be, he could not bring himself to part from her -presence. - -And so matters went until a summer’s night brought an interruption, and -this interruption is the only excuse for this tale. It had been a busy -day, and the sweatshop was working late into the night to finish its -work. It had been a hot day, too, and men and women were nigh exhausted. -The thermometer was ninety-five in the street, but in this room, you -know, were four tremendous stoves at full blast to keep the irons hot. -And the machines had been roaring almost since daybreak, and the men and -women were pale and weary and half suffocated. Chertoff had been -watching Babel anxiously for nearly an hour. She had lost her pallor and -her face had become slightly flushed, which is a bad sign in a -sweatshop. He feared the strain was becoming too great, and the thoughts -that crowded one upon another in his wearied brain were beginning to -daze him. He made a heroic effort. - -“Come, Babel,” he said, “if you will stop work and listen I’ll sing that -song you like.” - -“Sing it! Sing it!” cried fifty voices, although no one looked up. - -“Not unless Babel stops working,” said Chertoff, smiling. - -“Stop working, Babel! Stop working! We want a song!” they all cried. So -Babel stopped working and, with a grateful nod to Chertoff, folded her -hands in her lap and settled herself comfortably in her chair and -fastened her eyes upon the door that led into the rear room. Gurtman was -in this rear room filling the benzine cans. - -Chertoff began to sing. It was an old Russian folk-song, and it began -like this: - - “_Sang a little bird, and sang, - And grew silent; - Knew the heart of merriment, - And forgot it. - Why, O little songster bird, - Grew you quiet? - How learned you, O heart, to know - Gloomy sorrow?_” - -He had sung this far when the door of the rear room was flung open and -Gurtman, in angry mood, cried: - -“In God’s name stop! That singing of yours is making my back as crooked -as yours!” - -Chertoff turned swiftly, with arm upraised, but before he could utter a -word a huge flame of fire shot from the open doorway and enveloped the -sweater, and a crash, loud as a peal of thunder, filled the room. - -The benzine had exploded. In a twinkling bright flames seemed to dart -from every nook and cranny, and the wall between the two rooms was torn -asunder. Then a panic of screams and frenzied cries arose, and the -workers ran wildly, some to the door, some to the windows that looked -down upon the street four stories below, some trying frantically to tear -their way through the solid walls. The voice of Chertoff rose above the -tumult. “Follow me!” he cried. “Don’t be afraid!” He seized Babel, who -had fainted, laid her gently upon his misshapen shoulder, and led the -way into an adjoining room where the windows opened upon a fire escape. -“Take your time,” he cried. “Follow me slowly down the ladders. There is -no danger.” - -Once out of sight of the flames calmness was soon restored, and one by -one they slowly descended the iron ladders, following the lead of the -hunchback with his burden. Babel soon regained consciousness. She looked -wildly from face to face and then, clutching Chertoff’s arm, asked -hoarsely, “Gurtman! Where is he? Is he safe?” - -Chertoff smiled. “Do not worry, Babel. He probably will never torment a -human being again!” - -Babel relaxed her hold and every drop of blood left her face. She began -to moan pitifully: “I loved him! I loved him!” She buried her face in -her hands and burst into a fit of weeping. Chertoff’s eyes closed. A -look of hatred, unutterable, venomous hatred, flashed into his face. He -swayed to and fro with clenched fists, as though he would fall. Then -swiftly he raised his head, his eyes opened, and a smile overspread his -face. “Wait, Babel,” he whispered. “Wait!” With the agility of a gorilla -he sprang upon the iron ladder and climbed swiftly upward. The bright -moon cast a weird, twisting shadow upon the wall of the house, as of -some huge, misshapen beast. He reached the fourth story and disappeared -through the open window, whence the smoke had already begun to creep. -Presently he reappeared with the form of Gurtman upon his shoulder, and -slowly descended. With the utmost gentleness he laid his burden upon the -ground and placed his hand over the heart. Then he looked up into -Babel’s face. - -“He is alive. He is not hurt much.” Then Babel cried as though her heart -would break, and Chertoff—went home. - -Gurtman lived. He lived, and in a few days the sweatshop was running -again exactly as it had run before, and everything else went on exactly -as it had gone on before. Perhaps Chertoff’s pale face became a trifle -whiter, but that only brought out his ugliness the more vividly. He was -a splendid workman, and Gurtman could not afford to lose him. Sometimes -when the task was hard he sang that old song: - - “_Sang a little bird, and sang, - And grew silent; - Knew the heart of merriment, - And forgot it. - Why, O little songster bird, - Grew you quiet? - How learned you, O heart, to know - Gloomy sorrow?_” - - - - - THE MURDERER - - -When Marowitz arrived at the station-house to report for duty, the -sergeant gazed at him curiously. - -“You’re to report at headquarters immediately,” he said. “I don’t know -what for. The Chief just sent word that he wants to see you.” - -Marowitz looked bewildered. Summons to headquarters usually meant -trouble. Rewards usually came through the precinct Captain. Marowitz -wondered what delinquency he was to be reprimanded for. He could think -of nothing that he had done in violation of the regulations. - -Half an hour later he stood in the presence of the Chief. - -“You sent for me,” he said. - -The Chief looked at him inquiringly. “What is your name?” he asked. - -“Marowitz.” - -The Chief’s face lit up. “Oh, yes,” he said. “From the Eldridge Street -station. Do you speak the Yiddish jargon?” - -Marowitz drew a long breath of relief. - -“Yes, sir,” he answered. “I live in the Jewish quarter.” - -“Good,” said the Chief. “I want you to lay aside your uniform and put on -citizen’s clothes. Then go and look for a chap named Gratzberg. He is a -Russian, and is wanted in Odessa for murder. He is supposed to be hiding -somewhere in the Jewish quarter here. You’ll have no trouble in spotting -him if you run across him. Here,”—the Chief drew a slip of paper from -his desk—“here is the cabled description: Height, five feet seven; -weight, about 150 pounds. Has a black beard. Blue eyes. Right ear marked -on top by deep scar.” - -He handed the paper to Marowitz. - -“Keep your eyes open,” he said, “for marked ears. It’ll be a big thing -for you if you catch him. When I was your age I would have given the -world for a chance like this.” - -When Marowitz left headquarters he walked on air. Here was a chance, -indeed. He had been a policeman for nearly six years, and in all that -time there had come no opportunity to distinguish himself through -heroism or skill, or through any achievement, save the faithful -performance of routine duty. His heart now beat high with hope. How -pleased his wife would be! His name would be in all the newspapers. “The -Murderer Caught! Officer Marowitz Runs Him to Earth!” Officer Marowitz -already enjoyed the taste of the intoxicating cup of fame. - -In mounting the stairs of the tenement where he lived Marowitz nearly -stumbled over the figure of a little boy who was busily engaged in -playing Indian, lurking in the darkness in wait for a foe to come along. -The next moment the little figure was scrambling over him, shouting with -delight: - -“It’s papa! Come to play Indian with Bootsy!” - -“Hello, little rascal!” cried the policeman. “Papa can’t play to-day. -Got to go right out after naughty man.” - -Suddenly an idea came to him. - -“Want to come along with papa, little Boots?” he asked. The little -fellow yelled with joy at the prospect of this rare treat. He was six -years old, and had blue eyes and a winsome face. His real name was -Hermann, but an infantile tendency to chew for hours all the shoes and -boots of the household had fastened upon him the name of “Boots,” by -which all the neighbourhood knew him and loved him. An hour later, and -all that day, and all the next day, and the day after for a whole week, -Marowitz and his little son wandered, apparently in aimless fashion, up -and down the streets of the East Side. The companionship of the boy was -as good as a thousand disguises. It would have been difficult to imagine -anything less detective-like or police-like than this amiable-looking -young father taking his son out for a holiday promenade. - -Occasionally they would wander into one or another of the Jewish cafés, -where little Boots ascended to the seventh heaven of joy in sweet drinks -while Marowitz gazed about him, carelessly, for a man with a dark beard -and a marked ear. In one of these cafés, happening to pick up a Russian -newspaper, he read an account of the crime with which this man Gratzberg -was charged. It appeared that Gratzberg, while returning from the -synagogue with his wife, had accidently jostled a young soldier. The -soldier had struck him, and abused him for a vile Jew, and Gratzberg, -knowing the futility of resenting the insult, had edged out of the -soldier’s way, and was passing on when he heard a scream from his wife. -The soldier, attracted by the woman’s comeliness, had thrown his arms -around her, saying, “I will take a kiss from those Jewish lips to wipe -out the insult to which I have been subjected.” In sudden fury Gratzberg -rushed upon the soldier, and, with a light cane which he carried, made a -swift thrust into his face. The soldier fell to the ground, dead. The -thin point of the cane had entered his eye and pierced through into the -brain. Gratzberg turned and fled, and from that moment no man had seen -him. - -Marowitz laid down the paper and frowned. He sat for a long time, -plunged in thought. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he muttered, -“Duty is duty.” And, taking little Boots by the hand, he resumed his -search for the man with the black beard and the marked ear. - -It was a long and tedious search, and almost barren in clues. Two men -whom he approached—men whom he knew—remembered having seen a man who -answered the description, but their recollection was too dim to afford -him the slightest assistance. In the course of the week he had made a -dozen visits to every café, restaurant, and meeting place in the -neighbourhood, had conscientiously patrolled every street, both by day -and by night, had gone into many stores, and followed the delivery of -nearly all the Russian newspapers that came into that quarter. But -without a glimpse of the man with the marked ear. - -There came a night when the heat grew so intense, and the atmosphere so -humid and suffocating that nearly every house in the Ghetto poured out -its denizens into the street to seek relief. Numerous parties made their -way to the river, to lounge about the docks and piers, where a light -breeze brought grateful relief from the intense heat. - -“Want to go down to the river, Boots?” asked Marowitz. - -The lad’s eyes brightened. He was worn out with the heat, and too weary -to speak. He laid his little hand in his father’s, and they went down to -the river. Marowitz walked down a long pier, crowded with people, and -peered into the face of every man he saw. They were all peaceful -workingmen, oppressed by the heat, and seeking rest, and none among them -had marked ears. The cool breeze acted like a tonic upon little Boots. -In a few minutes he had joined a group of children who were running out -and screaming shrilly at play, and presently his merry voice could -plainly be distinguished above all the rest. Marowitz seated himself on -the string-piece at the end of the pier, and leaned his head against a -post in grateful, contented repose. His mind went ruefully over his -week’s work. - -“He cannot be in this neighbourhood,” he thought, “else I would have -found some trace of him. I have left nothing undone. I have worked hard -and faithfully on this assignment. But luck is against me. To-morrow I -will have to report—failure.” - -It was a depressing thought. He had had his chance and had failed. -Promotion—the rosy dawn of fame—became dimmer and dimmer. Now suddenly -rose a scream of terror, followed instantly by a loud splash. Then a -hubbub of voices and cries. Then, out of the black water, a wild cry, -“Papa! Papa!” Even before the people began to run toward him Marowitz -realised that Boots had fallen into the river. A swift, sharp pang of -dread, of horrible fear, shot through him. He saw the white, upturned -face floating by—sprang swiftly, blindly into the water. And not until -the splash, when the shock of the cold water struck him, at the very -moment when he felt the arms of little Boots envelop him, and felt the -strong current sweeping them along—not until then did Marowitz remember -that he could not swim a stroke. - -“Help! Help!” he cried, at the top of his voice. But the lights of the -pier had already begun to fade. The cries of the people were rapidly -dying out into a low hum. It was ebb tide, swift and relentless as -death. A twist in the current carried them in toward another -pier—deserted—and dark—save for a faint gleam of light that shone -through an aperture below the string-piece and threw a dancing trail of -dim brightness upon the water. - -“Help! Help!” cried Marowitz, in despair. He heard an answering cry. The -faint light had suddenly been cut off; the opening through which it had -shone had suddenly been enlarged; Marowitz saw the figure of a man -emerge. - -“Help! For God’s sake!” he cried. - -The man climbed quickly to the top of the pier, shouting something which -Marowitz could not distinguish—seized a great log which lay upon the -pier, and, holding it in his arms, sprang into the water. A few quick -strokes brought him to Marowitz’s side. He pushed forward the log so -that the policeman could grasp it. Then, allowing the current to carry -them down the stream, yet, by slow swimming guiding the log nearer and -nearer toward the shore, the man was finally able to grasp the rudder of -a ship at anchor in a dock. A few moments later they stood upon the -deck, surrounded by the crew of the ship; the loungers of the wharf -alongside gazing down upon them in curiosity. Boots was safe and -uninjured. The moment he felt his feet firmly planted on the ship’s deck -he burst into wild wailing, and Marowitz, with his hand upon his heart, -murmured thanks to God. Then he turned to thank his rescuer, who stood, -with the water dripping from him, under a ship’s lantern. The next -moment Marowitz’s outstretched hand fell, as if stricken, to his side, -and he stood stock still, bewildered. The lantern’s rays fell upon the -man’s ear, illuminating a deep red scar. The water was dripping from the -man’s long black beard. And when he saw Marowitz draw back, and saw his -gaze fastened as if fascinated upon that scarred ear, a ghastly pallor -overspread the man’s face. For a moment they stood thus, gazing at each -other. Then Marowitz strode forward impetuously, seized the man’s hand, -and carried it to his lips, and in the Yiddish jargon said to him: - -“You have saved my boy’s life. You have saved my life. May the blessing -of the Lord be upon you!” - -Marowitz then took his son in his arms and walked briskly homeward. - -“What luck?” asked the Chief next day, when he reported at headquarters. -Marowitz shook his head. - -“They must be mistaken. He is not in the Jewish quarter.” - -The Chief frowned. Then Marowitz, with heightened colour, said: - -“I want to resign. I—I don’t think I’m cut out for a good detective.” - -“H’m!” said the Chief. “I guess you’re right.” - - - - - UNCONVERTED - - -The Reverend Thomas Gillespie (it may have been William—I am not sure of -his first name) noticed a tall old man with fierce brown eyes standing -in the front of the crowd. Then a stone struck the Reverend Gillespie in -the face. The crowd pressed in upon him, and it would have gone ill with -the preacher if the tall, brown-eyed man had not turned upon the crowd -and, in a voice that drowned every other sound, cried: - -“Touch him not! Stand back!” - -The crowd hesitated and halted. The tall man had turned his back upon -the Reverend Gillespie, and now stood facing the rough-looking group. - -“Touch him not!” he repeated. “He is an honest man. He means us no harm. -He is but acting according to his lights. He is only mistaken. Whoever -throws another stone is an outcast. ‘Before me,’ said the Lord, ‘there -is no difference between Jew and Gentile; he that accomplishes good will -I reward accordingly.’ Friends, go your way!” - -In a few minutes the entire crowd had dispersed; the tall man was -helping the clergyman to his feet, and the first “open-air meeting” of -the Reverend Gillespie’s “Mission to the East Side Jews” had come to an -end. The Reverend’s cheek was bleeding, and the tall man helped him -staunch the flow of blood with the aid of a handkerchief that seemed to -have seen patriarchal days. - -“Friend,” he then said to the clergyman, “can you spare a few moments to -accompany me to my home? It is close by, and I would like to speak to -you.” - -The clergyman’s head was in a whirl. The happenings of the past few -minutes had dazed him. He was a young man and enthusiastic, and this -idea of converting the Jews of the East Side to Christianity was all his -own idea—all his own undertaking, without pay, without hope of reward. -He knew German well, and a little Russian, and it had not taken him long -to acquire sufficient proficiency in the jargon to make himself clearly -understood. Then began this “open-air meeting,” the sudden outburst of -derisive cries and hooting before he had uttered a dozen words of the -solemn exhortation that he had so carefully planned, then the rush and -the stone that had cut his cheek, and—he was only dimly conscious of -this—the sudden interference of the tall man. He was glad to accompany -his rescuer—glad to do anything that would afford a moment’s quiet rest. -The Reverend Gillespie wanted to think the situation over. - -The tall man led him into a tenement close by, through the hall, and -across a filthy court-yard into a rear tenement, and then up four foul, -weary flights of stairs. He opened a door, and the clergyman found -himself in a small dark room that seemed, from its furnishings, as well -as from its odours, to serve the purpose of sitting-, sleeping-, -dining-room, and kitchen. In one corner stood a couch, upon which lay an -old man, apparently asleep. His long, grey beard rose and fell upon the -coverlet with his regular breathing; but his cheeks were sunken, and his -hands, that clutched the edge of the coverlet, were thin and wasted. - -“Rest yourself,” said the tall man to the clergyman. “You are worn out.” - -The clergyman seated himself and drew a long breath of relief. He was -really tired, and sitting down acted like a tonic. He began to thank his -rescuer. It was the first word he had spoken, and his voice seemed to -arouse a sudden fire in the eyes of his rescuer. - -“Listen!” he cried, leaning forward, and pointing a long, gaunt finger -at the clergyman. “Listen to me. I have brought you here because I think -you are an honest man. You are like a man who walks in the midst of -light with his eyes shut and declares there is no light. You have come -here to preach to Jews, to beseech them to forsake the teachings of the -Prophets and to believe that the Messiah has come. But to preach to Jews -you must first find your Jews. You were not speaking to Jews. It was not -a Jew who threw that stone at you. It is true the Talmud says, ‘An -Israelite, even when he sins and abandons the faith, is still an -Israelite.’ But you have not come to convert the sinners against Israel. -You have come to convert Jews. And I have brought you here to show you a -Jew. - -“That old man whom you see there—no, he is not sleeping. He is dying. -You are shocked? No, he has no disease. Medical skill can do nothing for -him. He is an old man, tired of the struggle of life, worn out, wasting -away. Oh, he will open his eyes again, and he will eat food, too, but -there is no hope. In a few days he will be no more. - -“He is a Jew. We came from Russia together, he and I, and we struggled -together, side by side, for nearly a quarter of a century. It did not -take me long to forget many of the things the rabbis had taught me, and -to become impatient of the restraints of religion. But he remained -steadfast, oh, so steadfast! His religion was the breath of life to him; -he could no more depart from it than he could accustom himself to live -without breathing. It was a bitter struggle, year after year, slaving -from break of day until dark, with nothing to save, no headway, no -future, no hope. I often became despondent, but he was always cheerful. -He had the true faith to sustain him; a smile, a cheerful word, and -always some apt quotation from the Talmud to dispel my despondent mood. - -“He argued with me, he pleaded with me, he read to me the words of the -law, and the interpretations of the learned rabbis, day after day, month -after month, year after year—always so kind, so gentle, so patient, so -loving. And all the while we struggled for our daily living together and -suffered and hungered, and many times were subjected to insult and even -injury. And he would always repeat from the Talmud, ‘Man should accustom -himself to say of everything that God does that it is for the best.’ - -“Then Fortune smiled upon him. An unexpected piece of luck, a bold -enterprise, a few quick, profitable ventures, and he became independent. -He made me share his good fortune. We started one of those little -banking houses on the East Side, and so great was the confidence that -all who knew him possessed in him, that in less than a year we were a -well-known, reliable establishment, with prospects that no outsider -would ever have dreamed of. Through all the days of prosperity he -remained a devout Jew. Not a feast passed unobserved. Not a ceremony -went unperformed. Not an act of devotion, of kindness, or of charity -prescribed by the Talmud was omitted by my friend. - -“Then came the black day—the great, panic of six years ago—do you -remember it? It came suddenly, on a Friday afternoon, like a huge -storm-cloud, threatening to burst the next morning. - -“They came to him—all his customers—in swarms, to ask him if he would -keep his banking place open the next day. ‘No!’ he said. ‘To-morrow is -the Sabbath!’ ‘You will be ruined!’ they cried. ‘We will be ruined!’ -‘Friends,’ he said, in his quiet way, ‘I have enough money laid aside to -guard you against ruin, even if all my establishment be wiped from the -face of the earth. But to-morrow is the Sabbath. I have observed the -Sabbath for nearly sixty years. I must not fail to-morrow.’ - -“And when the morrow came the bank failed, and they brought the news to -him in the synagogue. But he gave no heed to them; he was listening to -the reading of the law. They came to tell him that banks were crashing -everywhere, that the bottom had fallen out of the world of business and -finance. But he was listening to the words that were spoken by Moses on -Sinai. - -“And,” the narrator’s eyes filled, and the tears began to roll down his -cheeks, “on the Monday that followed he gave, to every man and to every -woman and to every child that had trusted him, every penny that he had -saved, and he made me give every penny that I had saved. And when all -was gone, and the last creditor had gone away, paid in full, he turned -to me and said, ‘Man should accustom himself to say of everything that -God does that it is for the best!’ - -“And the next day—yes, the very next day—we applied for work in a -sweater’s shop, and we have been working there ever since. - -“We were too old to begin daring ventures over again. I would have clung -to the money we had saved, but he—he was so good, so honest, that the -very thought of it filled me with shame. And now he is worn out. - -“In a few days he will die, and I will be left to fight on alone. - -“But, oh, my friend, there, lying on that couch, you see a Jew! - -“Would you convert him? What would you have him believe? To what would -you change his faith? Ah, you will say there are not many like him. No! -Would to God there were! It would be a happier world. - -“But it was faith in Judaism that made him what he was. If I—if all Jews -could only believe in the religion of their fathers as he believed—what -an example to mankind Israel would be! - -“My friend, I thank you. You have come with me—you have listened to my -story. I must attend to my friend. May the peace of God be with you!” - -The Reverend Thomas Gillespie (although, as I said, it may have been -William) bowed, and, without a word, walked slowly out of the room. His -lips trembled slightly. - -The “second outdoor meeting of the Reverend Gillespie’s Mission to the -East Side Jews” has never taken place. - - - - - WITHOUT FEAR OF GOD - - The thread on which the good qualities of human beings are strung - like pearls, is the fear of God. When the fastenings of this fear - are unloosed the pearls roll in all directions and are lost, one - by one. - - —_The Book of Morals._ - - -Be pleased to remember that this tale points no moral, that there is -absolutely nothing to be deduced from it, and that in narrating it I am -but repeating a curious incident that belongs to the East Side. It is a -strange place, this East Side, with its heterogeneous elements, its -babble of jargons. Its noise and its silence, its impenetrable mystery, -its virtues, its romance, and its poverty—above all, its poverty! Some -day I shall tell you something about the poverty of the East Side that -will tax your credulity. - - * * * * * - -There lived on the East Side once a man who had no fear of God. His name -was Shatzkin, and there had been a time when he was a learned man, -skilled in the interpretation of Talmudic lore, fair to look upon and -strong. - -Like many another outcast he had come with his story and his mystery out -of the “poisonous East,” and there was no tie between him and his -neighbours save the tie of Judaism. It is a wonderful bond between men, -this tie of Judaism, a bond of steel that it has taken four thousand -years of suffering and death to forge, and its ends are fastened to -men’s hearts by rivets that are stronger than adamant, and the rabbis -call these rivets “The fear of God.” - -The heat of summer came on. You who swelter in your parlour these sultry -days—do you know what the heat of summer means to two families chained -by poverty within a solitary room in a Ghetto tenement, where there is -neither light nor air, where the pores of the walls perspire, where the -stench of decay is ever present, where there is nothing but heat, heat, -heat? You who have read with horror the tale of the Black Hole of -Calcutta—have you seen a child lie upon a bare floor, gasping, and -gasping and gasping for breath amid the roomful of silent people who are -stitching for bread? I would give a year of my life to wipe out a -certain memory that is awakened each time I hear a child cry—it was -terrible. - -But I was telling you the story of Shatzkin. - -The heat of summer came on, and his youngest-born died in his arms for -lack of nourishment. And while his wife sat wringing her hands and the -other children were crying, Shatzkin laid the lifeless body upon the -bare floor, and, donning his praying cap, raised his voice and chanted: - -“Great is my affliction, O God of Israel, but Thou knowest best!” - -And it grew hotter, and the other children succumbed. - -“You had better send them to the country,” said the doctor, and, seeing -Shatzkin staring at him dumbly, “Don’t you understand what I mean?” he -asked. Shatzkin nodded. He understood full well and—and that night -another died, and Shatzkin bowed his head and cried: - -“Great is my affliction, O God of Israel, but Thou knowest best!” - -Within a week the Shatzkins were childless—it was a terrible summer—and -when the congregation B’nai Sholom assembled upon the following Sabbath -and the rabbi spoke words of comfort, Shatzkin, with his face buried in -his hands, murmured: - -“My sorrow is nigh unbearable, O God of Israel, but Thou knowest best!” - -And now the heat grew greater, and the sweatshops, with all their -people, were as silent as the grave. The men cut the cloth and ironed -it, and the women stitched, stitched, stitched, with never a sound, and -there was no weeping, for their misery was beyond the healing power of -tears. - -Shatzkin’s wife fell to the floor exhausted, and they carried her to her -room above, and sent for a doctor. - -“The sea air would do her good,” said the doctor. - -“The sea air,” repeated Shatzkin, stupidly. “The sea air.” - -“Keep her as cool as you can. I will call again in the morning.” - -“The sea air,” was all that Shatzkin said. “The sea air.” - -In the middle of the night the woman cried, “Shatzkin! Shatzkin!” - -He looked down, for her head lay upon his lap. - -“Shatzkin!” She was smiling feebly. “The baby—Aaron—Esther—dear -Shatzkin——” - - * * * * * - -The congregation of B’nai Sholom had assembled for Sabbath eve worship. -The rabbi was in the midst of the service. - -“Blessed be God on high!” he read from the book. “Blessed be the Lord of -Israel, who holds the world in the palm of His hand. For He is a -righteous God——” - -“Ho! ho!” shouted a derisive voice. The startled worshippers hastily -turned their heads. They beheld a gaunt figure that had risen in the -rear of the room, and seemed to be shaking with laughter. It was -Shatzkin, but so pale and worn that few recognised him. - -“Who are you that disturb this holy service?” cried the rabbi. “Have you -no fear of God in your heart?” - -The man ceased laughing and stared the rabbi in the eyes. “No,” he said, -slowly. “I have no fear of God.” - -A terrible hush had fallen upon the assemblage, and the man, looking -vacantly from one to another of the faces that were turned to him, said, -in a hollow voice: - -“I am Shatzkin. Does no one remember Shatzkin? I sat here only last -week,” and, slowly, “my—wife—went—to—the—seashore!” - -The rabbi’s face softened. - -“Good, brother Shatzkin,” his voice was trembling. “God has tried——” - -“You lie!” cried Shatzkin, fiercely. “Do not speak to me of God! I have -no fear of Him! He killed my youngest-born, and I prayed to Him—on my -knees I prayed and cried, ‘Thou knowest best!’ And He killed the -others—all the others, and I blessed Him and on my knees I prayed, ‘Thou -knowest best!’ And He killed my wife—my darling wife—in my arms He -killed her. And I am alone—alone—alone, and I fear no God! -Curse—curse—curse! Ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho! Why should I fear God?” - -And throwing a prayer-book to the floor he trampled it under foot, and -rushed out into the street. - - * * * * * - -For many years there worked in one of the sweatshops on the East Side a -shrivelled little man, with keen blue eyes, who was always laughing. -From sunrise until midnight he toiled, sometimes humming an old melody, -but always with a smile upon his lips. The other workers laughed and -chatted merrily in the winter time, and became grave and silent in the -summer, but rarely did they pay attention to the old man who seemed -always happy. Strangers that visited the place were invariably attracted -by the cheerful aspect of the man, but when they spoke to him he would -smile and answer: - -“I must earn money to send my wife to the sea air!” - -And if they asked, “Who is this man?” they would be told in a whisper of -awe: - -“He has no fear of God!” - -And then a significant shake of the head. - - * * * * * - -The heat of summer is here again. Shatzkin has been dead a long time, -and the story is almost forgotten. But in the Ghetto each day his cry is -repeated, and through the heat and the foul air there arises from a -thousand hearts the tearless murmur: - -“Great is my affliction, O God of Israel, but Thou knowest best!” - - - - - THE SUN OF WISDOM - - -“And therefore,” concluded Salvin, stroking his long, grey beard, “we -are forced to accept the belief that the object of life is toil. We are -the advance guard cutting out the road down which the next generation -will travel, who, in turn, will carry the road further along. Our work -done—our usefulness ends. We have accomplished our mission, and nothing -remains but to make way for our successors.” - -Young Levine smiled, and rose to go. - -“You are wrong, my pessimistic brother,” he said, fondly laying his hand -upon the old man’s shoulder. “You are wrong. Some day the sun of wisdom -may shine upon you and you will learn the truth.” - -Salvin had been the friend of Levine’s father, and, despite the -inequality of their ages, a firm friendship existed between him and the -son. He now blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling, and with a smile of -amusement gazed at the young man. - -“And what, O Solomon,” he asked, “may the sun of wisdom have taught -you?” - -Levine’s face lit up. - -“The object of life,” he said, speaking swiftly and earnestly, “is love. -It begins with love; it ends with love. Without love life has no object. -It is, then, mere aimless, wondering, puzzling existence during which -the mind—like yours—struggles vainly to solve the riddle of why and -wherefore. But those who have once had the truth pointed out to them are -never in doubt. To them love explains all. Without love you cannot know -life.” - -Salvin smiled, and then, as the young man departed, his face grew -serious. He sat for a long time plunged in deepest thought. Strange -memories must have crowded upon him, for his eyes softened, and the -lines of his face relaxed their tension. - -But at the end of it he only sighed and shook his head gently and -muttered, “It is toil! Not love! Toil!” - -Levine, meanwhile, was walking back to his work. He was a compositor in -the printing-shop of the _Jewish Workingman_, and it had been his -custom, for years, to meet his friend Salvin at the noonday meal in -Weiss’s café, where they discussed those problems of life that perplex -the minds of thinking men. One problem, Levine felt, had been solved—had -been finally and definitely made clear. And the magic had all been -worked by Miriam’s eyes—coal-black eyes that now seemed the alpha and -omega of all his existence. For Levine, the object of life was Miriam. -The sun rose in order that he might look upon her. It set in order that -night might bring her sweet repose. - -The seasons—what were they but a varying background against which the -panorama of love could unfold itself? He toiled—for Miriam. He lived—for -Miriam. He thought—always of Miriam. Could there be a simpler -explanation of the mysteries of existence? Poor old Salvin! Poor, blind -pessimist! After so much pondering to achieve nothing better than that -hopeless creed! Toil? Yes, but only as a step toward love—as a means -toward the higher end. If man were created for toil, then man were -doomed to everlasting animal existence. Whereas love raised him to -higher planes, transformed him into a higher, nobler being. Could life -desire a sublimer object? - -Levine trod on air. In his workshop the walls, the lights, the -papers—all that surrounded him—sang to him of love. The presses chanted -the melody of Miriam’s eyes all the livelong day. The very stones in the -street seemed to him to sing it: “She is fair! She is fair! She is -fair!” and “Love is all! Love is all! Love is all!” - - * * * * * - -One day they were married. Salvin was there, with a hearty clasp of the -hand for his friend, and a kiss and a blessing for the bride. And -laughingly Levine whispered into his ear, “It is love!” But Salvin was -stubborn. He smiled and shook his head playfully. But what he whispered -in return was, “It is toil!” - -They were married, and the universe joined with them in their pæan of -love—love that, like the wind, “bloweth where it listeth, and thou -hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and -whither it goeth.” - - * * * * * - -Do you know that kind of woman whose temperament is like the smiling -sunshine? Miriam was one of these. A light, happy heart—a nature that -gloried in the joy of existence—ever ready to sing, to smile, to -frolic—sympathetic to all woe, yet realising sorrow only as an external -affliction, whose sting she could see, but had never felt—the soul of -merriment was Miriam. Her lot in life was an humble one; her task had -been severe; but through it all that sunshiny nature had served as a -shield to ward off the blows of life. Once—there was a man. For a few -hours Miriam’s brow had puckered in deep thought. But the man had been -foolish enough to ask for a capitulation—for unconditional surrender—ere -the battle had been half fought, and Miriam had shaken her head and had -passed him by. Then Levine had come. There was a delicate, poetic strain -in his nature that had immediately appealed to her, and his soft words -fell upon willing ears. He had wooed her gently, tenderly, -caressingly—in marked contrast to the tempestuous courtship that had -failed—and he had won. It “bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest -the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh and whither it -goeth!” - -Love’s eyes are keen, and Levine was quick to see the change that slowly -came over his wife. He could not have explained it; there was no name -for it; it baffled analysis. The first time he spoke to her about it she -laughed and threw her arms around his neck, saying, “Can’t you see that -I am growing older? You cannot expect your wife to remain a silly, -giggling girl all her life.” - -The second time he spoke to her about it she gave the same answer. She -did not embrace him, however. And when she had answered him her face -became thoughtful. He spoke to her about it a third time. She looked at -him a long time before speaking. Then she said, slowly: - -“Yes. I feel like a different woman. But I don’t understand it.” He did -not offer to kiss her that night, as was his custom, but waited for her -to make the first advance. She did not seem to notice the omission. - -He never spoke to her about the matter again. He never kissed her again. - -The marvels of a woman’s mind, the leaps and bounds of the emotions, the -gamut of passion upon which her fancy plays and lingers—all these are -the despair of psychology. Yet their manifestation is sufficiently -clear. How it came or whence it came, or why it came, even Miriam -herself could not tell. But as a flash of lightning on an inky night -reveals with vivid clearness what the darkness conceals, so the sudden -revelation that she adored the man whom she had rejected lit up, for a -brief moment, the gloom that had fallen upon her heart and laid bare the -terrible dreary prospect of her life. It came like a thunderbolt. She -loved him. She had always loved him. He was the lord and master whom her -heart craved. The fire had been smouldering in her heart. Now it leaped -into devouring flame. He loved her! He had fallen upon his knees and had -tried to drag her toward him. He had sworn that his life would be -wretched without her. And now that she was married he had thrown all the -energies of his heart and soul into incessant toil in order that he -might forget her. Married? She, the wife of Levine? A cry of despair -broke from her lips. - -Ah, yes. The lightning flash had passed. But she remembered what its -brightness had revealed. She knew now! - -For a long time—for many weeks—she often felt an almost irresistible -impulse to scream aloud, so that her husband—so that all the world might -hear: “I love him! Him only! No one but him.” But the heart learns to -bear even agony in silence. Miriam settled down into the monotonous -groove that fate had marked out for her. The revelation that had come to -her so suddenly developed into a wall that rose between her and her -husband. An invisible wall, yet each felt its presence, and after many -ineffectual attempts to surmount this barrier, to woo and win her heart -anew, Levine abandoned the effort and yielded to despair. She never told -him, and he never knew—never even suspected. But after that they lived -in different worlds—each equally wretched. For there is only one other -lingering misery on earth that can compare with the lot of a woman who -is married to one man with her heart and soul bound up in another. It is -the lot of her husband. - -For Miriam there was no consolation. Her secret was buried in her inmost -soul; she was doomed to live out her life brooding over it. During the -day she often cried. When her husband came home she met him with a calm -face—often with a smile—and then they would sit and talk over trivial -matters the while that her agony was eating into her heart. - -And Levine—the torments that he endured were beyond all description! Of -a sensitive temperament, yet endowed with a clear, critical, philosophic -intellect, he sought for an explanation and a remedy in a scrutiny of -every incident of their married life, in self-analysis, in the keenest -introspection, and found nothing but that insurmountable wall. Nothing -seemed credible or tangible save that dull gnawing pain in his heart. -Once or twice the thought of self-destruction entered his head. Why he -thrust it aside he could not say. He was not a coward. The prospect of -fighting his way through life with that burden of misery upon his soul -possessed infinitely more terrors for him than the thought of suicide. -Nor did he pursue the suggestion sufficiently to come to the conclusion -that it was unworthy. It was an alien thought, foreign to his nature, -and could find no lodgment. That was all. He lived on and suffered. - -Have you ever heard of Levine, the poet? He is a compositor in the -printing-shop of the _Jewish Workingman_ by day—he writes poetry, and, -occasionally, short prose articles at night. He is not a genius. He is -not a born singer. But his work is strong in its sincerity, and through -it all runs a strain—that world-old strain of pleading—of weakness -pleading for strength, of the oppressed pleading for justice. He is not -a great poet, but among the readers of the _Jewish Workingman_, and -among the loiterers in the East Side cafés, he is looked upon as a -“friend of the masses.” And what they all marvel at is his prodigious -industry. A day’s work in the composing-room of the _Jewish Workingman_ -is a task calculated to sap a man’s vitality to its last drop. Yet, this -task completed, Levine throws himself with feverish activity into the -composition of verse, and writes, and writes, and writes, until the lamp -burns low. Sometimes, when he tires, he pauses to listen to the gentle -breathing of his wife, who sleeps in the next room. It acts like a spur -upon him; with renewed energy he plunges into his work. - -The poem which the readers of the _Jewish Workingman_ like best of all -Levine’s writings is “Phantoms.” It ends—roughly translated from the -Yiddish—like this: - - _And when the deepening gloom of night descends - Upon the perilous path and towering heights, - And wild storm phantoms crowd each rocky pass— - Love sinks exhausted, but grim Toil climbs on!_ - - - - - A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL - - -There was a young man with a Christian heart and blue eyes—eyes that -made you look at him again and smile at his earnestness—who went among -the lowly Jews of the East Side to convert them to the faith of the -Messiah whom they disowned. Those blue eyes fell, one day, upon a head -of hair that gleamed like gold, fiery, red hair, silken and carelessly -tangled, and shining in the sunlight. Then the head turned and the young -man beheld the face of Bertha, daughter of Tamor, the rabbi. And Bertha -opened her eyes, which were brown, and gazed curiously at this young man -who seemed out of place in the Ghetto, and smiled and turned away. - -A year went by and the Jews still disowned the Messiah, but a great -change had come over this young man. In the vague future he still hoped -to carry out his daring scheme, but now all his heart and all his soul -and all his hopes of earthly happiness were centred upon Bertha, -daughter of Tamor, the rabbi. - -In the beginning she had been amused at him, but his persistence and his -earnestness won their reward, as those qualities always will, and when -this first year was at an end it came to pass that this Jewish maiden -wept, as a loving woman will weep, for sheer joy of being loved; she a -rabbi’s daughter, bred in the traditions of a jealous faith, he a -Christian lad. - -She had kept the secret of her growing love locked in her heart, but now -it became a burden too heavy to be borne, and one night—it was shortly -before the fast of Yom Kippur—she poured out her confession into her -father’s ear. She told it in whispers, hiding her face in her father’s -long beard, and with her arms around his neck. When the full meaning of -the revelation dawned upon him, the Rabbi Tamor, ashen pale, sprang from -his feet and thrust her from him. - -“A Christian!” he cried. “My daughter marry a Christian!” - -He was an old man—so old and feeble that in a few days the synagogue had -planned to retire him and install a younger rabbi in his place. But now -fury gave him strength. His whole frame trembled, but his eyes were -flashing fire, and he had raised his arm as if he were about to strike -his daughter to the floor. But she did not move. Her eyes were raised to -his, tearfully but undismayed. - -“Do not strike me, father,” she said. “I cannot help it. I love him. I -have promised to marry him. Will you not give me your blessing?” - -“Blessings?” cried the infuriated old man. “My curses upon you if you -take so foul a step! Your mother would rise from her grave if you -married a Christian! How dare you tell such a thing to me—to me, who -have devoted so many years to bringing you up in the faith to which I -have devoted my life? Is there no son of Israel good enough for you? -Must you bring this horrible calamity upon me in my old age? Would you -have me read you out of the congregation? If it were the last act of my -rabbinate—aye, if it were the last act of my life, I would read out -aloud, so that all the world would know my shame, the ban of -excommunication that the synagogue would impose upon you! Have I brought -you up for this?” - -But Bertha had swooned, and his rage fell upon ears that did not hear. - - * * * * * - -The cup of bitterness was full. Rabbi Tamor knew his daughter, knew the -full strength of her nature, the steadfastness of her purpose. He had -pleaded, expostulated, argued, and threatened, but all in vain. And to -add to his misery he saw in all his daughter’s passionate devotion to -her lover something that reminded him more and more vividly of the wife -whom he had courted and loved and cherished until death took her from -him. Many years had gone by, but whenever his memory grew dim, and her -features began to grow indistinct, he had only to look at his daughter -to see them before him again, in all their youthful beauty. His -daughter, the image of his dead wife, to marry a Christian! It was the -bitterness of gall! - -The Rabbi Tamor’s father and grandfather had been rabbis before him, and -in his veins surged the blood of devotion to Israel’s cause. He had been -in this country many years, but the roots of his life had been planted -in Russia, in a Ghetto where the traditions of thousands of years still -survived in daily life, and in spirit he still dwelt there. To him -Christianity meant oppression, persecution, torture. His nature was -stern and unbending; there could be no compromise, no palliation; the -sinner against Israel was like a venomous serpent that must be crushed -without argument. And now his duty was clear. - -When the officials of the synagogue met, a few days before Yom Kippur, -the Rabbi Tamor, pale and trembling, but firm in his determination, laid -before them the case of a young woman who had resolved to marry outside -her faith. The officials listened, horror-stricken, but turned to him -for the verdict. He was a wise man, they knew, learned in Mishna and -Thora, and they had become accustomed to abide by his decisions. - -“The warning!” he said, in a low voice. “Let us read aloud the warning -of the ban!” - -The new rabbi, who by courtesy had been invited to the meeting, and who -had listened with interest to Rabbi Tamor’s narrative, raised his hand -and leaned forward as if he were about to speak. But when he heard the -clerk ask for the girl’s name, and heard Rabbi Tamor, in a hoarse, -stifling voice, answer, “Bertha Tamor, my—my daughter!” his hand fell -and the words died upon his lips. But he frowned and sat for a long time -plunged in deep thought. - - * * * * * - -Upon the Day of Atonement Bertha fasted. She, too, had gone through a -bitter struggle. For a nature like hers to abandon the faith of her race -meant a racking of every fibre of soul and body. She had not slept for -three nights. Her face was pale, and her eyes were encircled with black -shadows. But through all her misery, through all the distress that she -felt over her father’s grief, she could not subdue the throbbing of -exulting joy that pulsed through her veins, nor blot out from her mind -the blue eyes of her lover or the ardour of his kisses. But grief and -joy only combined to wear out her vitality; she felt despondent, -depressed. - -The sun began to sink below the housetops. The day’s fasting and prayer -were slowly coming to an end. Bertha went to the synagogue, where, all -that day, since sunrise, her father had been praying. The news of the -proposed reading of the warning had spread, and when Bertha entered the -gallery set aside for women in the synagogue, she felt every eye upon -her. - -The Yom Kippur service is long, and to him who knows the story of -Israel, intensely impressive. When it drew near its close the Rabbi -Tamor slowly rose, and with trembling hands unfolded a paper. Several -times he cleared his throat as if to speak, but each time his voice -seemed to fail him. The silence of death had fallen upon the -congregation. - -“Warning!” he began. He was clutching the arm of the man who stood -nearest him to steady himself. - -“Warning of the ban of excommunication upon the daughter of——” - -“Stop!” - -The new rabbi, seated among the congregation, had risen, and was walking -rapidly toward the platform. A wave of excitement swept through the -hall. Rabbi Tamor’s hand fell to his side. For a moment a look of relief -came into his face. His duty was a terrible one, and any interruption -was welcome. When the new rabbi reached the platform he began to speak. -His voice was low and musical, and after the harsh, strident tones of -their old rabbi, fell gratefully upon every ear. He was a young man, of -irregular, rather unprepossessing features, and looked more like an -energetic sweatshop worker than a learned rabbi. But when he began to -speak, and the congregation beheld the light that came into his eyes, -every man in that hall felt, instinctively, “Here is a teacher of -Israel!” - -“It is irregular,” he began, in his soft voice. “I am violating every -law and every rule. But this is the Day of Atonement, and I would be -untrue to my faith, to my God and to you, my new children, were I to -keep silent.” - -When Bertha, in her place in the gallery, realised what her father was -about to do she had become as pale as a ghost, and had clutched the -railing in front of her, and had bitten her lip until the blood came to -keep from crying aloud in her anguish. And she had sat there motionless -as a statue, seeing nothing but her father’s pale face and the misery in -his eyes. When the new rabbi arose and began to speak, she became dazed. -The platform, the ark, and all the people below and around her began to -swim before her eyes. She felt faint, felt that she was about to become -unconscious, when a sudden passionate note that had come into the -speaker’s voice acted like a tonic upon her, and then, all at once, she -became aware that the vigorous, magnetic personality of the new rabbi -had taken possession of the whole synagogue, and after that her eyes -never left his face while he was speaking. - -“‘The Lord is my strength and song, and He is become my salvation: He is -my God, and I will prepare Him a habitation; my father’s God, and I will -exalt Him!’ - -“So sang Moses unto the Lord, and so year after year, century after -century, through the long, weary dragging-out of the ages, have we, the -children of Israel, sung it after him. Our temples have been shattered, -our strength has been crushed, all the force, all the skill, all the -cunning of man have been used to scatter us, to persecute us, to torture -us, to wipe us off the face of the earth. But through it all arose our -steadfast song. He was our fathers’ God! We will exalt Him!” - -And then the speaker launched upon the story of Israel’s martyrdom. In a -voice that vibrated with intense emotion he recited that world-tragedy -of Israel’s downfall, her shame, her sufferings throughout the slow -centuries. The sorrow of it filled Bertha’s heart. She was following -every word, every gesture, as if the recital fascinated her. It is a sad -story—there is none other like it in the world. Bertha felt the pain of -it all in her own heart. And then he told how, through it all, Israel -remained steadfast. How, under the lash, at the point of the knife, in -the flames of the stake, Israel remained steadfast. How, in the face of -temptation, with the vista of happiness, of wealth, of empire opening -before her, if only she would renounce her faith—Israel remained -steadfast. And he told of the great ones, the stars of Israel, who had -chosen death rather than renounce their faith, who had preferred -ignominy, privation, torture before they would prove untrue to their -God. - -“He is our fathers’ God!” he cried. “Is there a daughter of Israel who -will not exalt Him?” - -There was a moment of breathless silence. Then arose a piercing cry from -the gallery. Bertha had sprung to her feet. - -“I will be true!” she cried. “I will be steadfast! He is my fathers’ God -and I will exalt Him!” - -A commotion arose, and men and women ran forward to seize her by the -hand. But she brushed them all aside and walked determinedly toward the -new rabbi. She seized his hand and carried it to her lips. - -“He is my fathers’ God,” she said. “I will exalt Him!” - -And repeating this, again and again, she hurried out of the synagogue. -The elders crowded around her father and congratulated him. - - * * * * * - -It is but a short distance from the heart of the Ghetto to the river, -and in times of poverty and suffering there are many who traverse the -intervening space. The river flows silently. Occasionally you hear the -splash of a wave breaking against the wharf, but the deep, swift current -as it sweeps resistlessly out to sea makes no sound. - -They brought to Rabbi Tamor, many hours afterward, the shawl which she -had left behind her on the wharf. They took him to the spot, and stood -near him, lest in his grief he might attempt to throw himself into the -water. But he only stood gazing with undimmed eyes at the dark river, -babbling incoherently. Once he raised his hand to his ear. - -“Hark!” he whispered. “Do you hear?” - -They listened, but could hear nothing. - -“It is her voice. She is crying, ‘I will exalt Him!’ Do you hear it?” - -But they turned their heads from him to hide the tears. - - - - - THE MESSAGE OF ARCTURUS - - -David Adler sat at the open window gazing contemplatively at the sea of -stars whose soft radiance filled the heavens. He was lonely. The stars -were his friends. Particularly one bright star whose steadfastness, -throughout his many night vigils, had arrested his attention. It seemed -to twinkle less than the others, seemed more remote and purer. It was -Arcturus. - -To a lonely person, fretting under the peevish worries of life, the -contemplation of the stars brings a feeling of contentment that is often -akin to happiness. Beside this glorious panorama, with its background of -infinity and eternity, its colossal force, its sublime grandeur, the -ills of life seem trivial. And David, who had been lonely all his life, -would sit for hours upon each bright night, building castles along the -Milky Way and pouring out his soul to the stellar universe—particularly -to Arcturus, who had never failed him. Upon this night there was a faint -smile of amusement upon his face. He was thinking of the queer mission -that Mandelkern, his employer, had asked him to undertake that day. - -Mandelkern was old and crabbed and ugly, but very rich, and when that -morning he had said to David, “I am thinking of marrying,” David felt an -almost uncontrollable desire to laugh. Then, in his wheezy voice, -Mandelkern had outlined his plan. - -“The Shadchen has arranged it all. She is younger than I—oh, a great -many years younger, David—and she does not know me. We have only seen -each other once. Of course she is marrying me for my money, but I know -that when once we are married she will love me. But the trouble is, -David, that I cannot find out for myself, positively, whether she is the -kind of girl I want to marry. You see, if I were to go and see her -myself, she would be on her good behaviour all the time. They always -are. And I would not know, until after we were married, whether she is -amiable, dutiful, studious, modest—in short, whether she is just what a -girl should be. And then it would be too late. So I want you, like the -good David that you are, to see her—don’t you know?—and get acquainted -with her—don’t you know?—and er—question her—er—study her—don’t you -know?” David had promised to do what he could and they had shaken hands, -and the firm, hearty pressure of his employer’s grasp had told him, more -than words could convey, how terribly earnest he was in his curiosity. - -By the light of the stars David now sat pondering over this droll -situation and smiling. And as he gazed at his friend Arcturus it seemed -to him, after all, a matter of the smallest moment whether Mandelkern -married the right girl or not—or married at all—or whether anybody -married—or lived—or died. - - * * * * * - -On the pretext of a trivial errand David set out to study the -personality and character of his employer’s chosen bride. The moment his -eyes fell upon her the pretext that he had selected fled from his mind. -In sheer bewilderment he stood looking at her. And when her face lit up -and she began to laugh merrily, David was ready to turn and run in his -embarrassment. He beheld a mere girl. She could not have been more than -eighteen or nineteen at the most, and, although her figure was mature, -her face and bearing were girlish. And she was exquisitely pretty. At -the very first impression it seemed to David that he perceived a cold -gleam in her eye that betokened sordidness or meanness, but in a -twinkling he perceived that he had been mistaken. A winsome sweetness -rested upon her lovely features. It was probably the unconscious memory -of Mandelkern that had given that momentary colour to his thoughts. And -now, even before he had completed his admiring inventory of her physical -charms, she stood laughing at him. - -“You look so funny,” she said. “I cannot help laughing.” - -Then David began to laugh, and in a moment they were friends. To his -delight he found that she was clever, a shrewd observer, an entertaining -companion. Many things that she said awakened no response in him. It was -not until later that he discovered the reason; she had lived all her -young years in the active world, in touch with the struggle, the stir of -life; he had lived in dreamland with the stars. - -When Mandelkern asked David what impression the girl had made upon him, -he found, to his amazement, that he was unable to give a satisfactory -reply. - -“She is charming, Mr. Mandelkern,” he said. His employer nodded assent, -but added: - -“I know that, but is she amiable?” - -David pondered for a long time. Then he said: - -“Of course, Mr. Mandelkern, I have had no more opportunity of judging -what her qualities are than you have. I will have to see more of her. -But I will go to see her several times, and probably in a week or two -weeks I shall be able to give you a clear idea of her character.” - -Mandelkern nodded approvingly. - -“You are a good David,” he said. “I have confidence in your judgment.” - -And the stars that night seemed brighter, particularly his friend -Arcturus, who shone with wonderful splendour and filled David’s heart -with deep content—and the pulsing joy of living. - - * * * * * - -When the revelation came to him David felt no shock, experienced no -surprise. She had been so constantly in his thoughts, had drifted so -quietly into his life, that, when suddenly he realised that she had -become a part of his being, it seemed but the natural order of events. -It could have been nothing else. He had been born into the world for -this. Through all their many talks the name of Mandelkern had never been -mentioned. In the beginning the thought of this sweet, girlish nature -being doomed to mate itself with grey, blear-eyed Mandelkern had haunted -him like a nightmare. But in the sunshine of her presence David quickly -forgot both his employer and the scheming Shadchen, and when it dawned -upon him that he loved her, that she was necessary to him, that it was -in the harmonious plan of the universe that they should be united -forever, the thought of Mandelkern came only as a reminder of the -unpleasant duty of revealing the truth to him. - -Not a word of love had he spoken. Upon a basis of close friendship there -had sprung up between them a spirit of camaraderie in which sentiment -played no part. Now, suddenly, David felt toward her a tenderness that -he had never known before—a desire to protect her, to cherish her—he -loved her. - -It dawned upon Mandelkern that David’s answers to his questions were -becoming more and more vague and unsatisfactory. And one night the -Shadchen, becoming alarmed at David’s frequent visits to the girl, urged -Mandelkern to make haste. - -“It makes me uneasy,” he said, “to see you sitting idle while a young -man has so many opportunities of courting your promised bride.” - -Mandelkern’s watery eyes narrowed to a slit and his teeth closed tightly -together. Then he answered firmly: - -“Have no fear. She will be mine. The lad is, young.” And after a moment -he repeated, “The lad is young!” - -Aye, David was young! His pulses throbbed with the vigour of youth, with -the joy of hope, with the deep torrent of a heart’s first love. Glorious -youth! Thou art the richest heritage of the children of men! Canst thou -not tarry? Down the bright beam of Arcturus there came to David a light -that illumined his soul. Sitting at his window with gaze upturned to the -starry heavens, there came to him the soft, sweet realisation that the -secret of the universe was love, that life’s cup of happiness was at his -lips, that Arcturus had been but waiting all these millions upon -millions of years to see the veil lifted from his eyes, and the bliss of -love revealed. Golden youth! Canst thou not tarry? - - * * * * * - -They were walking along the street as night was falling. They were -laughing and chatting gaily, discussing a droll legend of the Talmud -that David had recited to her. - -“It reminds me,” said David, “of a story about the Rabbi ben Zaccai, -who——” - -A sudden moan and faint cry made him pause and quickly turn. A woman -whom they had just passed was staggering with her hands pressed to her -breast. David sprang toward her, but before he could reach her side she -had fallen to the sidewalk, and lay there motionless. In an instant he -had raised her to her knees, and was chafing her wrists to restore her -to consciousness. She recovered quickly, but as soon as David had helped -her to her feet she began to cry weakly, and would have fallen again had -he not supported her. - -“What is the matter?” he asked. “Are you ill?” - -The woman’s sobs increased, and David repeated his question. Then, with -the tears streaming down her face, she answered: - -“I have eaten nothing for three days. I am starving. I cannot beg. I -cannot die. Oh, I am so miserable!” - -David assisted her to the steps of the tenement in which she lived, and -summoned her neighbours. He gave them what little money he had in his -pocket, urged them to make haste and bring the poor woman food and -stimulants, and, promising to return the next day, rejoined his -companion. - -“My God!” he said, “wasn’t that terrible!” - -“Yes. It was terrible!” she said. There was an expression in her voice -that caused him to look at her, quickly, wonderingly. Her face had -paled. Her lips were tightly pressed together. She was breathing -rapidly. Her whole frame seemed agitated by some suppressed emotion. It -was not pity. Her eyes were dry and gleaming. It was not shock or -faintness. There was an expression of determination, of emphatic resolve -in her features. David felt amazed. - -“Look at me!” he said. “Look me full in the face!” - -She gave a short, harsh laugh. In her eyes David saw that same gleam of -sordid selfishness that he had observed when first he met her. But now -it was clear, glittering, unmistakable. - -“Of what are you thinking?” he asked, slowly. Her glance never wavered. -David felt the beating of his heart grow slower. - -“I don’t mind telling you,” she said. She hesitated for a moment, gave -another short laugh, and then went on: - -“I was thinking that that poor woman would not have starved if she had -married Mandelkern. I was also thinking that I am going to marry -Mandelkern. I was also thinking how terrible it would be if I did not -marry Mandelkern, and would, some day, have starvation to fear—like that -woman.” - -Having unburdened her mind, she seemed relieved, and, in a moment became -her old self. With a playful gesture she seized David’s arm and shook -him. - -“Come, sleepyhead, wake up!” she cried gaily. “Don’t stand there staring -at me as though I were a ghost. What were you saying about the Rabbi ben -Zaccai?” - - * * * * * - -David Adler sat at the open window gazing at the swarming stars, whose -radiance had begun to pale. The dawn of day was at hand. Even now a -faint glow of light suffused the eastern sky. But David saw it not. His -eyes were fastened upon Arcturus, whose brightness was yet undimmed, -whose lustre transcended the brightness of the myriads of stars that -crowded around. Travelling through the immeasurable realms of space, -straight to his heart, streamed that bright ray, the messenger of -Arcturus, cold, relentless—without hope. - - - - - QUEER SCHARENSTEIN - - -“Scharenstein?” they would say. “Oh, Scharenstein is queer! He is -good-hearted, poor fellow, but——” - -Then they would tap their foreheads significantly and shake their heads. -He had come from a hamlet in Bessarabia—a hamlet so small that you would -not find it on any map, even if you could pronounce the name. The whole -population of the hamlet did not exceed three hundred souls, of whom all -but three or four families were Christians. And these Christians had -risen, one day, and had fallen upon the Jews. Scharenstein’s wife was -stabbed through the heart, and his son, his brown-eyed little boy, was -burned with the house. Upon Scharenstein’s breast, as a reminder of an -old historical episode, they hacked a crude sign of a cross; then they -let him go, and Scharenstein in some way—no one ever knew how—found his -way to this country. When the ship came into the harbour he asked a -sailor what that majestic figure was that held aloft the shining light -whose rays lit up the wide stretch of the bay. They told him it was the -statue of Liberty Enlightening the World. - -“It is good,” he said. - -He found work in a sweatshop. An immigrant from a neighbouring hamlet -came over later and told the story, but when they came to Scharenstein -with sympathy he only laughed. - -“He is queer,” they said. - -In all that shop none other worked as diligently as Scharenstein. He was -the first to arrive, and the last to leave, and through all the day he -worked cheerfully, almost merrily, often humming old airs that his -fellow-workers had not heard for many years. And a man who worked harder -than his fellows in a sweatshop must surely have been queer, for in -those days the sweatshop was a place where the bodies and souls of men -and women writhed through hour after hour of torment and misery, until, -in sheer exhaustion, they became numb. Scharenstein went through all -this with a smile on his lips, and even on the hottest day, when there -came a few moments’ respite, he would keep treading away at his machine -and sing while the others were gasping for breath. And at night, when -the work was done, and the weary toilers dragged themselves home and -flung themselves upon their dreary beds, Scharenstein would trudge all -the way down to the Battery and stand for hours gazing at the statue of -Liberty Enlightening the World. And as he gazed, the tense lines of his -face would relax, and a bright light would come into his eyes, perhaps a -tear would trickle down his cheek. Then, after holding out both arms in -a yearning farewell, he would turn and walk slowly homeward. - -There was one day—it was in summer, when the thermometer stood at -ninety-five in the shade—that the burden of life seemed too heavy to be -borne. The air of the sweatshop was damp from the wet cloth, and hot -from the big stove upon which the irons were heating. The machines were -roaring and clicking in a deafening din, above which, every now and -then, rose a loud hissing sound as a red-hot goose was plunged into a -tub of water. The dampness and heat seemed to permeate everything; the -machines were hot to the touch. Men sat stripped to their undershirts, -the perspiration pouring from them. The sweater sat as far from the -stove as he could get, figuring his accounts and frowning. The cost of -labour was too high. Suddenly Marna, the pale, fat old woman who sat at -a machine close by the ironers, spat upon the floor and cried: - -“A curse on a world like this!” - -Some looked up in surprise, for Marna rarely spoke, but the most of them -went on without heeding her until they heard the voice of Scharenstein -with an intonation that was new to them. - -“Right, Marna,” he said. “A terrible world. A terrible world it is. Ho! -ho! ho!” - -They all looked at him. He was smiling, and turning around to look from -face to face. Then, still smiling and speaking slowly and hesitatingly, -as if he found it hard to select the right word, he went on: - -“An awful world. They come and take the woman—hold her down under their -knees—hold her throat tight in their fingers—like I hold this -cloth—tight—and stick a dagger into her heart. And they set fire to the -house—to the big house—all the smoke comes out of the windows—and -flames—bigger and hotter than in the stove there—oh, terrible -flames!—and the little boy’s face comes to the window—and they all -laugh. Ho! ho! ho! Then the whole house falls in—and the little boy’s -face disappears—and oh, how high the flames go up!” - -He looked around him, smiling. A chill struck the heart of every one of -his hearers. He shook his head slowly and said to Marna: - -“Right, Marna! It is a terrible world.” - -The sweater was busy with his accounts and had not heard. But the sudden -cessation of work made him look up, and hearing Scharenstein address the -woman, and seeing others looking at her, he turned upon Marna. - -“Confound it! Is this a time to be idling? Stop your chattering and back -to work. We must finish everything before——” - -There was something harsh and grating in his voice that seemed to -electrify Scharenstein. Dropping his work, he sprang between the sweater -and Marna and held out his arms beseechingly. - -“Oh, spare her! For God’s sake spare her! She is an innocent woman! She -has done you no harm!” - -And as he stood with outstretched arms, his shirt fell open, and every -eye saw plainly upon his breast the red sign of a crude cross. The -sweater fell back in amazement. Then a sudden light dawned upon him, -and, in an altered tone, he said: “Very well. I will do her no harm. Sit -down, my friend. You need not work to-day if you are not feeling well. I -will get someone to take your place, and—and—” (it required a heroic -effort) “you will not lose the day’s pay. You had better go home.” - -Scharenstein smiled and thanked the sweater. Then he started down the -stairs. Marna followed him, and with her arm around him helped him down -the steps. - -“My little boy is playing in the street,” she said. “Why don’t you take -him for a walk to the park where you took him before? It will do you -good, and he will be company for you.” - -Scharenstein’s face lit up with pleasure. Marna’s little boy had -frequently accompanied him on his walks to the Battery, and to see the -little fellow romping about and hear him screaming with delight at the -harbour sights had filled Scharenstein’s heart with exquisite pleasure. -He now sought the boy. He found him playing with his companions, all of -them running like mad through all that fierce heat. - -“Boy!” cried Scharenstein. “Look!” The boy turned and saw Scharenstein -standing erect with one arm held straight over his head, the other -clasped against his breast as though he were hugging something—the -attitude of the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World. With a shout -of delight he ran toward his friend, crying, “Take me with you!” And -hand in hand they walked down to the sea-wall. - -The boy watched the ships. Scharenstein, seated in the shade of a tree, -feasted his eyes upon that graceful bronze figure that stood so lonely, -so pensive, yet held aloft so joyfully its hopeful emblem. - -He sat like one entranced, and now and then his lips would move as -though he were struggling to utter some of the vague thoughts that were -floating in his brain. His face, however, was serene, and his whole -frame was relaxed in a delightful, restful abandon. - -The boy played and ran about, and asked Scharenstein for pennies to buy -fruit, and slowly the hours slipped by. As the sun sank, and the -coolness of night succeeded the painful heat of the afternoon, -Scharenstein moved from his seat and stood as close to the water’s edge -as he could. Then it grew dark, and the boy came and leaned wearily -against him. - -“I am tired,” he said. “Let us go home now.” - -Scharenstein took the little fellow in his arms and perched him upon one -of the stone posts. - -“Soon, boy,” he said. “Soon we will go. But let us wait to see the -statue light her torch.” - -They gazed out into the gathering darkness. Scharenstein’s hand caressed -the boy’s curly hair; the little head rested peacefully against his -breast,—against the livid cross that throbbed under his shirt,—and the -pressure stirred tumultuous memories within him. - -“You are a fine boy,” he said. “But you are not my boy.” - -“I’m mamma’s boy,” murmured the lad, drowsily. - -“Yes. Very true. Very true. You are mamma’s boy. But I have a little -boy, and—dear me!—I forgot all about him.” - -“Where is he?” asked the boy. - -“Out there,” answered Scharenstein, pointing to the dim outlines of the -statue of Liberty Enlightening the World. “She is keeping him for me! -But listen!” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “When I see him again I -will ask him to come and play with you. He often used to play with me. -He can run and sing, and he plays just like a sweet little angel. Oh, -look!” - -The bright electric light flashed from the statue’s torch, lighting up -the vast harbour with all its shipping, lighting up the little head that -rested against Scharenstein’s breast, and lighting up Scharenstein’s -face, now drawn and twitching convulsively. - -“Do you see him?” he whispered hoarsely. “Boy! Do you see my little boy -out there? He has big brown eyes. Do you see him? He is my only boy. He -wants me. He is calling me. Wait here, boy. I will go out and bring him -to you. He will play with you. He loves to play.” - -Gently he lowered his little companion from the post and carried him to -a bench. - -“Wait here, boy,” he said. “I will soon be back.” - -In sleepy wonderment the little fellow watched Scharenstein take off his -hat and coat and climb over the chain. The moment he disappeared from -view the little fellow became thoroughly awake and ran forward to the -sea-wall. Scharenstein was swimming clumsily, fiercely out into the bay. - -“Come back!” cried the boy. “Come back!” - -He heard Scharenstein’s voice faintly, “I am coming.” Then again, more -faintly still, “I am coming.” Then all became silent except the lapping -of the waves against the sea-wall, and the boy began to cry. - -It was fully an hour before the alarm was given and a boat lowered, but -of Scharenstein they found no trace. The harbour waters are swift, and -the currents sweep twistingly in many directions. The harbour clings -tenaciously to its dead—gives them up only with reluctance and after -many days. And the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World looks down -upon the search and holds out hope. But it gives no help. - - - - - THE COMPACT - - -The paper lies before me as I write. The bitterness has all passed. As a -matter of fact it was Sorkin who told it to me as a good story. The -paper read thus: - - “_Agreement between Ignatz Sorkin and Nathan Bykowsky, made in - Wilna, Russia, December 10, 1861: Sorkin goes to Germany and - Bykowsky goes to America, in New York. In twenty years all the - money they have is put together and each takes half because the - lucky one loves his old friend. We swear it on the Torah._ - - “_Ignatz Sorkin._ - “_Nathan Bykowsky._” - -It is Sorkin’s story: - -“The twenty years went by and I came to New York. My heart was heavy. I -had not heard from Bykowsky for five years. Why had he not written? If -he was poor, surely he must have heard that I was rich, and that half of -all I had belonged to him. And if he was rich, did he mean to break the -agreement? In either case it was bad for me. If it had not been for that -last clause—‘we swear it on the Torah’! I cannot say. Perhaps I would -not have come. For things had gone well with me in Germany. I owned -twelve thousand dollars. And I might have forgotten the agreement. But I -had sworn it on the Torah! I could not forget it. - -“Still, what was the use of taking too many chances? I brought only -three thousand dollars with me. The rest I left in government bonds on -the other side. If Bykowsky was a poor man he should have half of three -thousand dollars. Surely that was enough for a poor man. I had not sworn -on the Torah to remember the nine thousand dollars. - -“So I came here. I looked for Bykowsky, but could not find him. He had -worked as a tailor, and I went from one shop to another asking -everybody, ‘Do you know my old friend Bykowsky?’ At last I found a man -who kept a tailor shop. He was a fine man. He had a big diamond in his -shirt. Bykowsky? Yes, he remembered Bykowsky. Bykowsky used to work for -him. And where was he now? He did not know. But when Bykowsky left his -shop he went to open one for himself and became a boss. A boss? What was -a boss? ‘I am a boss,’ the man said. Then I took a good look at his -diamond. ‘Maybe,’ I thought, ‘if Bykowsky is a boss, he too has a -diamond like that.’ So I went out to look for Bykowsky the boss. - -“Then I thought to myself, ‘Why shall I be stingy? I will tell Bykowsky -that I have five thousand dollars and I will give him half. He was a -good friend of mine. I will be liberal.’ So I looked and looked -everywhere, but nobody seemed to remember Bykowsky the boss. At last I -met a policeman. He knew Bykowsky. He did not know where he lived, but -he knew him when he was a tailor boss. ‘Is he not a tailor boss any -more?’ I asked him. ‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘He sold his tailor shop and -opened a saloon.’ ‘Is that a better business than a tailor shop?’ I -asked him. The policeman laughed at me and said, ‘Sure. A good saloon is -better than a dozen tailor shops.’ - -“H’m! I was very sorry that he did not know where Bykowsky kept his -saloon. I made up my mind that I would go to every saloon in the city -until I found him. And when I found him I would say, ‘Bykowsky, I have -come to keep the agreement. I have saved seven thousand dollars. Half is -yours.’ Because I liked Bykowsky. We were the very best of friends. - -“I went from saloon to saloon. I am not a drinking man. But as I did not -like to ask so many questions for nothing I bought a cigar in every -place. Soon I had all my pockets full of cigars. I do not smoke. I kept -the cigars for Bykowsky. He is a great smoker. Then I met a man who had -once been in Bykowsky’s saloon. He told me what a place it was. Such -looking-glasses! Such fancy things! And he was making so much money that -he had to hire a man to do nothing but sit at a desk all day and put the -money in a drawer. So I says to myself, ‘Ah, ha! Dear friend Bykowsky, -you are playing a joke on your dear old friend Sorkin. You want to wait -until he comes and then fill him with joy by giving him half of that -fine saloon business!’ So I asked the man where that saloon was. ‘Oh,’ -he said, ‘that was several years ago. Bykowsky made so much money that -he gave up the saloon and went into the real-estate business.’ - -“H’m! I began to understand it. Bykowsky had been making money so fast -that he never had time to write to me. But never mind. I would go to -him. I would grasp him by the hand and I would say, ‘Dearest friend of -my boyhood, I have come to you with ten thousand dollars that I have -saved. Half is yours. My only hope is that you are poor, so that I can -have the pleasure of sharing with you all my wealth.’ Then he will be -overcome and he will get red in the face, and he will tell me that he -has got many hundreds of thousands of dollars to share with me. Ah, yes! - -“There are not so many people in the real-estate business as in the -saloon business. And soon I found a man who knew all about my friend -Bykowsky. ‘The last I heard of him,’ he said, ‘he went out of the -real-estate business. He took all his money and bought a fine row of -houses. And he said he was not going to work any more.’ - -“That was just like dear old Bykowsky. He was a regular aristocrat. As -long as he had enough money to live on he did not care to work. But he -would be glad to see his dear old friend. I would pretend that I did not -know how rich he was. I would be open and honest with him. I would keep -the letter and the spirit of the agreement. I would not keep back a -single cent. ‘Bykowsky,’ I would say, ‘dear, good, old Bykowsky. Here I -am. I have three thousand dollars in my pocket. I have nine thousand -dollars in good government bonds in Germany. I also have a fine gold -watch, and a gold chain and a ring, but the ring is not solid gold. Half -of what I have is yours.’ And we will fall on each other’s shoulders and -be, oh, so glad! - -“I found Bykowsky. He was not at home where he lived. But I found him in -a café. He was playing pinochle with the proprietor. I took a good long -look at him. He did not know me, but I recognised him right away. I went -over and held out my hand. ‘It is my old friend Bykowsky!’ I said. He -looked at me and got very red in the face. ‘Ah, ha!’ I said to myself. -‘I have guessed right.’ Then he cried, ‘Sorkin!’ and we threw our arms -around each other. ‘Bykowsky,’ I said, ‘I have come many thousand miles -to keep our boyhood agreement. Maybe you and I might have forgotten it, -but we swore on the Torah, and I know that you could not forget it any -more than I could. I have three thousand dollars in my pocket. I have -nine thousand dollars in good government bonds in Germany. I have a fine -gold watch and a gold chain and a ring, but the ring is not solid gold. -Half of what I have is yours. I hope—oh, Bykowsky, I am so selfish—I -hope that you are poor so that I can have the pleasure of dividing with -you.’ Then Bykowsky said, ‘Let me see the ring!’ - -“I showed him the ring, and he shook his head very sadly. ‘You are -right, Sorkin,’ he said. ‘It is not solid gold.’ - -“‘Well, dear friend,’ I said, ‘how has the world gone with you?’ - -“‘Very badly,’ he said. ‘Let me see the watch and the chain.’ - -“Something told me he was joking. So I said, ‘Please keep the watch and -chain as a token of our old friendship. We will not count it in the -division. But I am sorry to hear that things have gone badly with you. -Why did you not’ (this was only a sly hint) ‘go into the real-estate -business? I hear so many people are getting rich that way.’ - -“Then he sighed—and I felt that something was wrong. - -“‘Dear friend Sorkin,’ he said. ‘Dearest comrade of my boyhood days, I -have a sad story to tell you. A year ago I owned a fine row of houses. I -had nearly two hundred thousand dollars. I was looking forward to the -time when I would write to you, dear, kind old friend, and ask you to -come over to share with me all my wealth. But alas! The wheel of fortune -turned! I began to speculate. It is a long, sad story. Two months ago I -sold the last of my houses. To-day I have three hundred dollars left. -Dear, sweet Sorkin, you come as a Godsend from heaven. My luck has -turned!’” - - * * * * * - -Here there was a long pause in Sorkin’s story. Then he said: - -“My son, even to this day when I think of that moment, I feel the -sensation of choking.” - -“But did you keep the compact?” - -And, in a flash, I regretted the question. - -“I had sworn on the Torah,” Sorkin replied. - - * * * * * - -The firm of Sorkin & Bykowsky has recently changed its name to Sorkin, -Bykowsky & Co. The Co. is young Ignatz Sorkin Bykowsky. There is also a -young Nathan Bykowsky Sorkin. But he is still at school. - - - - - A SONG OF SONGS - - -I know a story that runs almost like a song—like that old song, “Behold, -thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair!” - -In the heart of the Jewish quarter stood an old Catholic church, relic -of those bygone days ere the oppressed Jews of Russia and Austria had -learned that this land was a haven of refuge, and had come to settle in -this neighbourhood by the hundreds of thousands. Close by this church -lived the Rabbi Sarna, one of the earliest of the immigrants—an honest, -whole-souled man who knew the Talmud and the Kabbala by heart, and who -had a daughter. Her name was Hannah—and there the story and the song -began. - -It began in the days when Hannah was a young girl, who would sit for -hours on her father’s doorstep with a school-book in her lap, and when -Richard Shea was altar boy in the Catholic church close by, and would -spend most of his time on the doorstep beside Hannah. And they lived a -life of dreams, those happy dreams that abound in the realm of -childhood, where no thought is darkened by the grim monsters of reality, -the sordid facts of life. - -In those days Richard’s tasks in the service of the Holy Roman Church -possessed but little significance for him. It was his duty to swing the -censer, to light the candles, and to carry the Book at Mass, and when -the task was done Richard’s only thought was of Hannah, who was sitting -on her father’s doorstep waiting for him. Father Brady, the rector of -the Catholic church, who was Richard’s guardian—for the lad was an -orphan, and had been left entirely in the priest’s care—was very -exacting in all affairs that pertained to his parish, and insisted that -Richard should perform his duties carefully and conscientiously. But -when the service was over his vigilance relaxed, and, so long as there -was no complaint from the neighbours, the lad might do as he pleased. -And it was Richard’s greatest pleasure to be with Hannah. - -They would sit for hours in the long summer nights, hand in hand, -building those wonderful fabrics of childish imagination, looking -forward hopefully, enthusiastically, to a future whose basis, whose -essence was an eternal companionship of their two souls. There came a -night—perhaps it was because the stars were brighter than usual, perhaps -because the night was balmy, or perhaps because the spirit of spring was -in the air—at any rate, that fatal night came when, in some -unaccountable manner, their lips came together, came closely, tightly -together, in a long, lingering kiss, and the next moment they found -themselves flooded in a stream of light. Hastily, guiltily they looked -up. The door had been opened, and the Rabbi Sarna was looking down upon -them. - -Hannah’s father kissed her that night as usual, and she went to bed -without hearing a word of reproach or of paternal advice. Whether he had -gained his wisdom from the Kabbala or the Talmud I do not know, but the -Rabbi Sarna was a wise man. He took a night to think the matter over. -Perhaps he felt that the bringing-up of a motherless daughter was no -trivial matter, and that there were times when, being a man, his -instinct was sure to be wrong, and that only the most careful -consideration and deliberate thought could guide him into the right -path. For a whole day he said nothing. - -The following evening, however, when the grace after meal had been said, -and “Hear, O Israel!” had been recited, he laid his hand fondly upon his -daughter’s head and spoke to her, kindly. - -“Remember, Hannah,” he said, “the lad is not one of our people. He is a -good lad, and I like him, but you are a daughter of Israel. You come of -a race, Hannah, that has been persecuted for thousands of years by his -people. If your mother were alive, she would forbid you ever to see him -again. But I do not feel that I ought to be so harsh. I only ask you, my -daughter, to remember that you are of a race that was chosen by Jehovah, -and that he comes from a race that has made us suffer misery for many -ages.” - -Hannah went to bed and cried, and rebelled at the injustice of an -arrangement that seemed to her all wrong and distorted. Why were not the -Jewish lads that she knew as tall and straight as her Richard? And why -had they not blue eyes like his? And curly, golden hair? And that -strength? And she cried herself to sleep. - -In some unaccountable manner—it may have been that the rabbi told the -butcher and the butcher told the baker—the matter reached the ears of -Richard’s guardian, who promptly took the lad to task for it. - -“Remember, Richard,” he said, “she is a Jewess. You need not look so -fierce. I know that she is a nice little girl, but, after all, her -father is a Jew, and her mother was a Jewess. They have always been the -enemy of our religion. You know enough of history to know what suffering -they have caused. I have not the slightest objection to your seeing her -and talking to her, but things seem to have gone a little too far. You -must remember that you cannot marry her. So what is the use of wasting -your time?” - -And, of course, Richard went to bed very glum and disheartened. For a -long time he did not see Hannah, and when, after several weeks, they -came face to face again, each bowed, somewhat stiffly, and promptly felt -that the bottom had dropped out of life. - -So the years passed, and the dreams of childhood passed, and many -changes came. Hannah grew to be a young woman, and her beauty increased. -Her eyes were dark and big, her cheeks were of the olive tint that -predominates in her race, but enlivened by a rosy tinge; she grew tall -and very dignified in her carriage—and Richard, each time he saw her, -was reminded of the canticle, “Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, -thou art fair!” - -He, too, had grown older, had grown taller and manlier; the boldness and -audacity that had captivated the fancy of the Jewish lass had developed -into manly strength and forceful personality; but his heart had not -freed itself from that early attachment. While the service lasted, and -the odour of incense rose to his nostrils, and the pomp and ceremony of -his religion thrilled his whole being, Hannah was only a memory, a dim -recollection of a life-long past. But when, from time to time, he met -her and saw the look of joy that lit up her eyes, Hannah became a vivid, -stirring, all-absorbing reality. And Richard was troubled. - -Father Brady sent Richard to the seminary to prepare for the priesthood. -For two winters Richard pursued his theological studies, pursued them -with zeal, and devoted himself heart and soul to the career his fond -guardian had selected for him. And for two summers, during which he -helped his guardian in the parish work, the young man struggled and -fought and battled manfully with the problem of Hannah. They had spoken -but little to each other. The dream of childhood had passed, and they -had grown to realise the enormity of the barrier that rose between -them—a barrier of races, of empires, of ages—a monstrous barrier before -whose leviathan proportions they were but insignificant atoms. And yet—— - -It came like one of those levantine storms, when one moment the sky is -blue and the air is still, and the next moment the floodgates of heaven -are open, and the air is black with tempest. The Rabbi Sarna came -rushing to the house of Father Brady. They had known each other for -years, and a certain intimacy, based upon mutual respect for each -other’s learning and integrity, had grown up between them. And the rabbi -poured forth his tale of woe. - -“I begged, I implored her,” he ran on, “to tell me the cause of her -stubbornness. The finest young men you ever saw, one after another, -handsome, strong, well-to-do, have asked her, and have come to me to -intercede for them. And at last I went to her and begged her, beseeched -her to tell me why she persisted in refusing them all. I am an old man. -I cannot live many years longer. The dearest wish of my heart is to see -her happily married and settled in life. And she persists in driving -every suitor from the house. And what do you think she told me?” - -A horrible suspicion came into the priest’s head, but all he said was, -“I cannot guess.” The rabbi was gasping with excitement. - -“She loves that Richard of yours. If she cannot marry him she will not -marry anyone else. I told her she was crazy. Her only fear was that I -would tell you—or him. She does not even realise the enormity of it! The -girl is out of her head!” - -The priest held out his hand. - -“I thank you,” he said, “for warning me in time. It was an act of -kindness. I will see that an end is put to the matter at once. At least, -so far as Richard is concerned. If he is to blame for that feeling on -your daughter’s part I will see that he does whatever is necessary to -remedy the harm he has done. His course in life has been laid out. He -will be a priest. I am very thankful to you for coming to me.” - -The rabbi was greatly troubled. “I do not know what to do,” he said. “I -am all in a whirl. I felt that it was only right that you should know. -But I cannot imagine what can be done.” - -“Leave it to me,” said Father Brady. As soon as the rabbi had departed -he sent for Richard. - -“What is this I hear about that Jewish girl?” he demanded, sternly. -Richard turned pale. - -“What!” cried the priest. “Is it possible that you are to blame?” - -“To blame?” asked Richard. “I? For what?” - -“Only this minute,” the priest went on, “her father was here with a -story that it made my blood boil to hear. The girl has rejected all her -suitors, and tells her father that she will marry no one but you or——” - -With a loud cry Richard sprang toward the door. There was a chair in the -way, but it went spinning across the room. - -“Richard!” roared his guardian. “What is all this?” - -But Richard, bareheaded and coatless, was tearing down the stairs, -three, four, five at a time, and the next moment there was a crash that -made the house tremble to its foundation. Richard had gone out, and had -shut the door behind him. The rabbi, homeward bound, was nearing his -door when a young whirlwind, hatless and coatless, rushed by him. The -rabbi stood still, amazed. His amazement grew when he beheld this -tornado whirl up the steps of his house and throw itself violently -against the door. As he ran forward to see what was happening the door -opened and Hannah stood on the threshold, the light behind her streaming -upon her shining hair. And, the next instant, all the wisdom that he had -learned from the Talmud and the Kabbala deserted him. In after years he -confessed that at that moment he felt like a fool. For the tempestuous -Richard had seized Hannah in his arms and was kissing her cheeks and her -lips and her eyes, and pouring out a perfect torrent of endearing -phrases. And Hannah’s arms were tightly wound around his neck, and she -was crying as though she feared that all the elements were about to try -to drag the young man from her. A glint of reason returned to the rabbi. - -“Hold!” he cried. “Foolish children! Stand apart! Listen to me!” - -They turned and looked at him. The Rabbi Sarna looked into the eyes of -Richard. But what he saw there troubled him. He could not bear the young -man’s gaze. Almost in despair he turned to his daughter. “Hannah,” he -began. Then he looked into her eyes, and his gaze fell. He sighed and -walked past them into the house. In an instant he was forgotten. - -“Oh, thou art fair, my love!” cried Richard. “Thou art fair!” - - * * * * * - -When “the traveller from New Zealand” stands upon the last remaining -arch of London Bridge and gazes upon the ruins of St. Paul’s, the -Catholic Church will still flourish. And when the nations of the earth -have died and their names have become mere memories, as men to-day -remember the Phœnicians and the Romans, then will there still rise to -heaven that daily prayer, “Hear, O Israel!” And in the chronicles of -neither of these religions will there ever be found mention of either -Richard Shea or his wife Hannah. But, if that story be true of the Great -Book in which the lives of all men are written down, and the motives of -all their deeds recorded in black and white, then surely there is a page -upon which these names appear. And perhaps, occasionally, an angel peeps -at it and brushes away a tear and smiles. - - - - - A WEDDING IN DURESS - - -In the days when the Ashkenazim and the Sephardim were divided by walls -of sentiment and pride, as difficult to surmount as the walls that -separated patrician from plebeian in ancient Rome, an Ashkenazi youth -married a Sephardi maiden. It happened some four hundred or five hundred -years ago. Youth and maiden are dust, their romance is forgotten, and we -owe them an apology for disturbing their memory. Let us only add that -the youth’s name was Zalman. May Mr. and Mrs. Zalman rest in peace! - - * * * * * - -Zalman, the tailor, lived in Essex Street on the same floor with the -Rabbi Elsberg. Zalman possessed two treasures, each a rarity of -exquisite beauty, each vying with the other for supremacy in his -affections. The one was a wine glass of Venetian make, wonderful in its -myriad-hued colouring, its fragile texture, and its rare design. The -mate of it rests in one of the famous museums of Italy, and the -connoisseurs came from far and near to feast their eyes upon Zalman’s -piece. Money, in sums that would have made Zalman a rich man in that -neighbourhood, had been offered to him for this treasure, but he always -shook his head. - -“It has been in my family for hundreds of years,” he would say, “and I -cannot part with it. Years ago—many, many years ago—our family was -wealthy, but now I have nothing left save this one wine glass. I would -rather die than lose it.” - -His visitors would depart with feelings of mingled wonder and rage; -wonder that so priceless a gem should be in the possession of a -decrepit, untidy, poverty-stricken East Side tailor; and rage that he -should be so stubborn as to cling to it in spite of the most alluring -offers that were made to him. Zalman’s other treasure was his daughter -Barbara, whose name, like the wine glass, had descended from some -long-forgotten Spanish or Italian ancestress. All the lavish praise that -the most enthusiastic lover of things beautiful had ever lavished upon -that wonderful wine glass would have applied with equal truth to -Barbara. Excepting that Barbara was distinctly modern. - -Reuben sat in the Rabbi Elsberg’s sitting-room, frowning and unhappy; -the rabbi, puffing reflectively at a long pipe, gazing at him in -silence. Through the walls they could hear Barbara singing. Barbara -always sang when she was merry, and Barbara was merry, as a rule, from -the moment she left her bed until she returned to it. The rabbi took a -longer puff than usual, and then asked Reuben: - -“What said her father?” - -Reuben gulped several times as if the words that crowded to his lips for -utterance were choking him. - -“It is well for him that he is her father,” he finally said. “I would -not have listened to so much abuse from any other living man.” (Reuben, -by the way, had a most determined-looking chin, and there was something -very earnest in the cut of his features.) - -“He gave me to understand,” he went on, “that he knew perfectly well it -was his wine glass I was after, and not his daughter. That I was -counting on his dying soon, and already looked forward to selling that -precious glass to spend the money in riotous living. And when I told him -that Barbara and I loved each other, he said ‘Bosh!’ and forbade me to -speak of it again.” - -The rabbi puffed in silence for a moment. - -“He evidently has not a flattering opinion of you, my young friend.” - -“He knows nothing against me!” Reuben hurriedly exclaimed. “It is only -because I want Barbara. He would say the same to anyone else that asked -for his daughter. You know me, rabbi; you have known me a long time, -ever since I was a child. I do not pretend to be an angel, but I am not -bad. I love the girl, and I can take good care of her. I don’t want to -see his old wine glass again. I’d smash it into a——” - -Reuben’s jaw fell, and his eyes stared vacantly at the wall. The rabbi -followed his gaze, and, seeing nothing, turned to Reuben in surprise. - -“What is it?” he asked. - -“Nothing,” replied Reuben, with a sheepish grin. “I—I just happened to -think of something.” - -The rabbi frowned. “If you are often taken with such queer ideas that -make you look so idiotic, I don’t think I can blame Zalman so very -much.” But Reuben’s contrite expression immediately caused him to regret -his momentary annoyance, and holding out his hand, he said, -affectionately: - -“Come, Reuben, I will do what I can for you. You are a good boy, and if -you and the girl love each other I will see if there is not some way of -overcoming her father’s objections.” - -Taking Reuben by the arm he led him into Zalman’s shop. Zalman was not -alone. A little shrivelled old man, evidently a connoisseur of _objets -d’art_, was holding the wonderful wine glass to the light, gloating over -the bewildering play of colours that flashed from it, while Zalman -anxiously hovered about him, eager to receive the glass in his own hands -again, yet proudly calling the old man’s attention to its hidden -beauties. - -Barbara stood in the doorway that led to the living-rooms in the rear. -When she saw Reuben she blushed and smiled. - -Zalman looked up and saw the rabbi and smiled; saw who was with him and -frowned. - -“I just dropped in to have a little chat,” said the rabbi, “but there is -no hurry. I will wait until you are disengaged.” - -The connoisseur carefully set the glass upon the counter, and heaved a -long, painful sigh. - -“And no price will tempt you to part with it?” he asked. Zalman shook -his head and grinned. What followed happened with exceeding swiftness. - -Zalman had got as far as, “It has been in our family for hundreds of -years——” when a shadow caused him to turn his head. He saw Barbara throw -up her hands in amazement, saw the rabbi start forward as though he were -about to interfere in something, and saw the precious wine glass in -Reuben’s hand. Mechanically he reached forward to take it from him, and -then instantly felt Reuben’s other hand against his breast, holding him -back, and heard Reuben saying, quite naturally, “Wait!” - -It had not taken ten seconds—Zalman suddenly felt sick. - -The connoisseur hastily put on his glasses. The situation seemed -interesting. - -“Mr. Zalman,” said Reuben, speaking very slowly and distinctly, yet -carefully keeping the tailor at arm’s length, “I told you this very day -that your daughter Barbara and I love each other. We will not marry -without your consent. So you must consent. If I cannot marry Barbara I -do not care what happens to me. I will have nothing to live for. I can -give her a good home, and we will be very happy. You can come to live -with us, if you like, and I will always be a good son to you. I swear by -the Torah that this glass is nothing to me. I want Barbara because I -love her, and you can throw this glass into the river for all I care. -But if you do not give your consent I also swear by the Torah that I -shall fling this glass to the floor and smash it into a thousand -pieces.” - -Zalman, who had been clutching Reuben’s outstretched arm throughout this -speech, and had followed every word with staring eyes and open mouth, -dropped his arms and groaned. Barbara had listened in amazement to -Reuben’s first words, but when his meaning dawned upon her she had -clapped her kerchief to her mouth and fled precipitately through the -doorway whence now came faint sounds which, owing to the distance, might -have been either loud weeping or violent laughter. The rabbi’s face had -reddened with indignation. The connoisseur alone was smiling. - -“Reuben,” said the rabbi sternly, “you have gone too far. Put the glass -down!” He advanced toward the young man. - -“Hold!” cried Reuben. “If anyone in this room touches me or attempts to -take this glass from me, I shall quickly hurl it to the floor. Look, -everybody!” He held the glass aloft. “See how fragile it is! I have only -to hold it a little tighter and it will break into a dozen pieces, and -no human skill will ever be able to put them together again!” - -Zalman was in agony. - -“I yield,” he cried. “Give me the glass. You shall marry Barbara -to-morrow. Do not hold it so tightly. Put it down gently.” - -He held out his hand. His lips were twitching with repressed curses on -Reuben’s head. But Reuben only smiled. - -“No, good father,” he said. “Not to-morrow. You might change your mind. -Let it be now, and your glass is safe.” - -(“What a pertinacious young man!” thought the connoisseur.) - -“May the fiends devour you!” cried Zalman. - -“Now look you,” said Reuben, twirling the delicate glass in a careless -way that sent chill shudders down the tailor’s spine; “it is you who are -stubborn. Not I. If you knew how devotedly I loved Barbara you would -not, you could not be so heartless as to keep us apart.” - -“The foul fiends!” muttered Zalman. Beads of perspiration stood out upon -his forehead; he was very pale. - -“You were young yourself once,” Reuben went on. “For the sake of your -own youth, cast aside your stubbornness and give us your consent. -Barbara! Barbara! Where are you?” - -The young woman, blushing like a rose, came out and stood beside him -with lowered head and downcast eyes. - -“You see,” said Reuben, gently encircling her waist, “we love each -other.” - -“The foul fiends!” muttered Zalman. - -“Help me, Barbara! Help me to plead with your father,” urged Reuben. But -Barbara, abashed, could not find courage to raise her voice. Besides, -she kept her kerchief pressed tightly against her lips. - -“Would you make your own daughter unhappy for the rest of her life?” -Reuben went on. (At every sentence Zalman murmured as far as “The foul -fiends!” then stopped.) “Everything is ready save your consent. The good -Rabbi Elsberg is here. He can marry us on the spot. We can dispense with -the betrothal. Our hearts have been betrothed for more than a year. I -want no dowry. I only want Barbara. Can you be so cruel as to keep us -apart?” - -The glass slipped from his fingers as if by accident, but deftly his -hand swooped below it and caught it, unharmed. The tailor almost -swooned. - -“Take her!” he cried, hoarsely. “In the foul fiend’s name take her! And -give me the glass!” He held out his trembling hands. With a joyful cry -Reuben pressed the girl tightly against his heart, and was about to kiss -her when the rabbi’s voice rang out: - -“This is outrageous! I refuse to have anything to do with marrying -them!” - -Reuben turned pale. To be so near victory, and now to lose everything -through the desertion of his old friend, was an unexpected, -disheartening blow. The tailor’s face brightened. Barbara, who had -looked up quickly when the rabbi spoke, began to cry softly. - -“I have consented,” said Zalman. “That was what you asked, was it not? -Now give me back my wine glass. I can do no more.” - -A faint smile had come into his face. It must have been his evil -guardian who prompted that smile, for it gave Reuben heart. - -“If the rabbi will not marry us immediately,” said Reuben, “then I have -lost everything, and have nothing more to live for.” With the utmost -deliberation he raised an enormous iron that lay upon the counter, -placed the glass carefully upon the floor, and held the iron directly -over it. - -“I shall crush the glass into a million tiny bits beneath this ponderous -weight!” - -“Hold!” screamed the tailor. “He shall marry you! Please, oh, please! -Marry them, rabbi! For my sake, marry them! I beg it of you! I cannot -bear to see my precious glass under that horrible weight! Don’t let it -fall! For God’s sake, hold it tight! Oh, rabbi, marry them, marry them, -marry them! Let me have my glass!” - -The rabbi glared at Reuben, then at the tailor, who was almost on his -knees before him, and then at the face of the connoisseur, who, somewhat -embarrassed at finding himself observed in that exciting moment, said, -apologetically, “I—I don’t mind being a witness.” - -The rabbi married them. - -“It is not for either of you that I am doing this,” he said, in stern -accents. “You have disgraced yourselves—both of you. But for the sake of -this old man, my friend, who holds that bauble so high that I fear he -will lose his reason if any harm befall it, I yield.” - -They were married. And then—and not until then—Reuben raised the -precious wine glass, glittering and sparkling with multi-coloured fire, -gently from the floor and placed it upon the counter. But he held fast -to the iron. Zalman pounced upon his heirloom, examined it carefully to -see whether the faintest mishap had marred its beauty, held it tightly -against his breast, and with upraised arm turned upon his daughter and -her husband. With flashing eyes and pallid lips, he cried: - -“May the foul fiends curse you! May God, in His righteousness——” - -There was a sound of crashing glass. Whether in his excitement the -tailor’s fingers had, for one instant, relaxed their grip; whether -mysterious Fate, through some psychic or physical agency had playfully -wrought a momentary paralysis of his nerves; whether—but who may -penetrate these things? The glass had slipped from his hand. That -exquisite creation of a skill that had perished centuries ago, that -fragile relic of a forgotten art which, only a moment ago, had sparkled -and glittered as though a hundred suns were imprisoned within its frail -sides, now lay upon the floor in a thousand shapeless fragments. - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors. - - 2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF MEN*** - - -******* This file should be named 54761-0.txt or 54761-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/4/7/6/54761 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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- clear: both; } - h3.pg { font-size: 110%; - clear: both; } - h4 { text-align: center; - clear: both; } - hr.full { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Children of Men, by Rudolph Edgar Block</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world 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 <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Children of Men</p> -<p>Author: Rudolph Edgar Block</p> -<p>Release Date: May 23, 2017 [eBook #54761]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF MEN***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by Richard Tonsing<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/childrenofmen00lessrich"> - https://archive.org/details/childrenofmen00lessrich</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class='ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>CHILDREN OF MEN</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_004.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p>“‘<em>The sheep are coming! They’re coming over the hill! Watch, Liebchen; watch, precious!</em>’”</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div> - <h1 class='c002'>CHILDREN OF MEN</h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div>BY</div> - <div class='c004'>BRUNO LESSING</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i_005.jpg' alt='ALDI DISCIP AMERICANVS' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>“<em>For He doth not afflict willingly</em></div> - <div><em>nor grieve the children of men.</em>”</div> - <div class='c004'>NEW YORK</div> - <div>McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.</div> - <div>MCMIII</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><em>Copyright, 1903, by</em></div> - <div>McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.</div> - <div class='c004'><em>Copyright, 1903, by</em> <span class='sc'>S. S. McClure Co.</span></div> - <div class='c004'>Published, September, 1903</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS'> - <tr> - <th class='c006'></th> - <th class='c007'>PAGE</th> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The End of the Task</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Sader Guest</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_33'>33</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>A Rift in the Cloud</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_43'>43</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Out of His Orbit</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Poisoned Chai</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_67'>67</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Urim and Thummim</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_81'>81</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>A Yiddish Idyll</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_91'>91</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Story of Sarai</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_99'>99</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Americanisation of Shadrach Cohen</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_107'>107</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Hannukah Lights</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_125'>125</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>A Swallow-Tailer for Two</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_139'>139</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Deborah</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_155'>155</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>An Interruption</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_167'>167</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Murderer</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_181'>181</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Unconverted</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_195'>195</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Without Fear of God</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_207'>207</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Sun of Wisdom</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_217'>217</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>A Daughter of Israel</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_231'>231</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Message of Arcturus</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_245'>245</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>Queer Scharenstein</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_259'>259</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>The Compact</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_273'>273</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>A Song of Songs</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_285'>285</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='sc'>A Wedding in Duress</span>,</td> - <td class='c008'><a href='#Page_299'>299</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE END OF THE TASK</h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c009'>I</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The sewing-machines whirred like a thousand -devils. You have no idea what a noise thirty sewing-machines -will make when they are running at -full speed. Each machine is made up of dozens -of little wheels and cogs and levers and ratchets, -and each part tries to pound, scrape, squeak and -bang and roar louder than all the others. The -old man who went crazy last year in this very same -shop used to sit in the cell where they chained him, -with his fingers in his ears, to keep out the noise -of the sewing-machines. He said the incessant -din was eating into his brains, and, time and again, -he tried to dash out those poor brains against the -padded wall.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The sewing-machines whirred and roared and -clicked, and the noise drowned every other sound. -Braun finished garment after garment and arranged -them in a pile beside his machine. When -there were twenty in the pile he paused in his work—if -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>your eyes were shut you would never have -known that one machine had stopped—and he -carried the garments to the counter, where the -marker gave him a ticket for them. Then he returned -to his machine. This was the routine of -his daily labour from seven o’clock in the morning -until seven o’clock at night. The only deviation -from this routine occurred when Lizschen laid the -twentieth garment that she had finished upon her -pile and Braun saw her fragile figure stoop to -raise the pile. Then his machine would stop, in -two strides he would be at her side, and with a -smile he would carry the garments to the counter -for her and bring her the ticket for them. Lizschen -would cease working to watch him, and when -he handed her the ticket she would smile at him, -and sometimes, when no one was looking, she would -seize his hand and press it tightly against her -cheek—oh! so tightly, as if she were drowning, and -that hand were a rock of safety. And, when she -resumed her work, a tear would roll slowly over -the very spot where his hand had rested, tremble -for an instant upon her pale cheek, and then fall -upon the garment where the needle would sew it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>firmly into the seam. But you never would have -known that two machines had stopped for a moment; -there were twenty-eight others to keep up -the roaring and the rattling and the hum.</p> - -<p class='c000'>On and on they roared. There was no other -sound to conflict with or to vary the monotony. -At each machine sat a human being working with -hand, foot, and eye, watching the flashing needle, -guarding the margin of the seams, jerking the -cloth hither and thither quickly, accurately, watching -the spool to see that the thread ran freely, oiling -the gear with one hand while the other continued -to push the garment rapidly under the -needle, the whole body swaying, bending, twisting -this way and that to keep time and pace with the -work. Every muscle of the body toiled, but the -mind was free—free as a bird to fly from that suffocating -room out to green fields and woods and -flowers. And Braun was thinking.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Linder had told him of a wonderful place where -beautiful pictures could be looked at for nothing. -It was probably untrue. Linder was not above -lying. Braun had been in this country six long -years, and in all that time he had never found anything -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>that could be had for nothing. Yet Linder -said he had seen them. Paintings in massive gold -frames, real, solid gold, and such paintings! -Woodland scenes and oceans and ships and cattle -and mountains, and beautiful ladies—such pictures -as the theatrical posters and the lithograph advertisements -on the streets displayed, only these -were real. And it cost nothing to look at them!</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nineteen—twenty! That completed the pile. -It had taken about an hour, and he had earned -seven cents. He carried the pile to the counter, -received his ticket, and returned to his machine, -stopping only to smile at Lizschen, who had finished -but half a pile in that time, and who looked -so white and tired, yet smiled so sweetly at him—then -on with his work and thoughts.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He would take Lizschen to see them. It was -probably all a lie, but the place was far, far uptown, -near Madison Square—Braun had never been -north of Houston Street—and the walk might do -Lizschen good. He would say nothing to her -about the pictures until he came to the place and -found out for himself if Linder had told the truth. -Otherwise the disappointment might do her harm.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>Poor Lizschen! A feeling of wild, blind rage -overwhelmed Braun for an instant, then passed -away, leaving his frame rigid and his teeth tightly -clenched. While it lasted he worked like an automaton, -seeing nothing, hearing nothing, feeling -nothing save a chaotic tumult in his heart and brain -that could find no vent in words, no audible expression -save in a fierce outcry against fate—resistless, -remorseless fate. A few months ago these -attacks had come upon him more frequently, and -had lasted for hours, leaving him exhausted and -ill. But they had become rarer and less violent; -there is no misfortune to which the human mind -cannot ultimately become reconciled. Lizschen -was soon to die. Braun had rebelled; his heart and -soul, racked almost beyond endurance, had cried -out against the horror, the injustice, the wanton -cruelty, of his brown-eyed, pale-cheeked Lizschen -wasting away to death before his eyes. But there -was no hope, and he had gradually become reconciled. -The physician at the public dispensary had -told him she might live a month or she might live -a year longer, he could not foretell more accurately, -but of ultimate recovery there was no hope on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>earth. And Braun’s rebellious outbursts against -cruel fate had become rarer and rarer. Do not -imagine that these emotions had ever shaped themselves -in so many words, or that he had attempted -by any process of reasoning to argue the matter -with himself or to see vividly what it all meant, -what horrible ordeal he was passing through, or -what the future held in store for him. From his -tenth year until his twentieth Braun had worked in -factories in Russia, often under the lash. He was -twenty-six, and his six years in this country had -been spent in sweatshops. Such men do not -formulate thoughts in words: they feel dumbly, -like dogs and horses.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>II</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The day’s work was done. Braun and Lizschen -were walking slowly uptown, hand in hand, attracting -many an inquiring, half-pitying glance. She -was so white, he so haggard and wild-eyed. It -was a delightful spring night, the air was balmy -and soothing, and Lizschen coughed less than she -had for several days. Braun had spoken of a picture -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>he had once seen in a shop-window in Russia. -Lizschen’s eyes had become animated.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They are so wonderful, those painters,” she -said. “With nothing but brushes they put colours -together until you can see the trees moving in the -breeze, and almost imagine you hear the birds in -them.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t care much for trees,” said Braun, “or -birds either. I like ships and battle pictures where -people are doing something great.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Maybe that is because you have always lived -in cities,” said Lizschen. “When I was a girl I -lived in the country, near Odessa, and oh, how -beautiful the trees were and how sweet the flowers! -And I used to sit under a tree and look at the -woods across the valley all day long. Ah, if I -could only——!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She checked herself and hoped that Braun had -not heard. But he had heard and his face had -clouded. He, too, had wished and wished and -wished through many a sleepless night, and now -he could easily frame the unfinished thought in -Lizschen’s mind. If he could send her to the country, -to some place where the air was warm and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>dry, perhaps her days might be prolonged. But -he could not. He had to work and she had to -work, and he had to look on and watch her toiling, -toiling, day after day, without end, without hope. -The alternative was to starve.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They came to the place that Linder had described, -and, surely enough, before them rose a -huge placard announcing that admission to the -exhibition of paintings was free. The pictures -were to be sold at public auction at the end of the -week, and for several nights they were on inspection. -The young couple stood outside the door -a while, watching the people who were going in -and coming out; then Braun said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come, Lizschen, let us go in. It is free.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Lizschen drew back timidly. “They will not -let people like us go in. It is for nobility.” But -Braun drew her forward.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They can do no more than ask us to go out,” -he said. “Besides, I would like to have a glimpse -of the paintings.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>With many misgivings Lizschen followed him -into the building, and found herself in a large hall, -brilliantly illuminated, walled in with paintings -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>whose gilt frames shone like fiery gold in the bright -light of numerous electric lamps. For a moment -the sight dazzled her, and she gasped for breath. -The large room, with its soft carpet, the glittering -lights and reflections, the confused mass of colours -that the paintings presented to her eyes, and the -air of charm that permeates all art galleries, be -they ever so poor, were all things so far apart from -her life, so foreign not only to her experience, but -even to her imagination, that the scene seemed -unreal at first, as if it had been taken from a fairy -tale. Braun was of a more phlegmatic temperament, -and not easily moved. The lights merely -made his eyes blink a few times, and after that he -saw only Lizschen’s face. He saw the blood leave -it and a bright pallor overspread her cheeks, saw -the frail hand move convulsively to her breast, a -gesture that he knew so well, and feared that she -was about to have a coughing spell. Then, suddenly, -he saw the colour come flooding back to her -face, and he saw her eyes sparkling, dancing with -a joy that he had never seen in them before. Her -whole frame seemed suddenly to become animated -with a new life and vigour. Somewhat startled -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>by this transformation he followed her gaze. Lizschen -was looking at a painting.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What is it, dear?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The picture,” she said in a whisper. “The -green fields and that tree! And the road! It -stretches over the hill! The sun will set, too, very -soon. Then the sheep will come over the top of -the hill. Oh, I can almost hear the leader’s bell! -And there is a light breeze. See the leaves of the -tree; they are moving! Can’t you feel the breeze? -Oh, darling, isn’t it wonderful? I never saw anything -like that before.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Braun looked curiously at the canvas. To his -eyes it presented a woodland scene, very natural, -to be sure, but not more natural than nature, and -equally uninteresting to him. He looked around -him to select a painting upon which he could expend -more enthusiasm.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, there’s the kind I like, Lizschen,” he -said. “That storm on the ocean, with the big -ship going to pieces. And that big picture over -there with all the soldiers rushing to battle.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He found several others and was pointing out -what he found to admire in them, when, happening -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>to look at his companion’s face, he saw that her -eyes were still fastened upon the woodland picture, -and he realised that she had not heard a word of -what he had said. He smiled at her tenderly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah, Lizschen,” he said, “if I were rich I would -take that picture right off the wall and give them -a hundred dollars for it, and we would take it home -with us so that Lizschen could look at it all day -long.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But still Lizschen did not hear. All that big -room, with its lights and its brilliant colourings, -and all those people who had come in, and even her -lover at her side had faded from Lizschen’s consciousness. -The picture that absorbed all her -being had ceased to be a mere beautiful painting. -Lizschen was walking down that road herself; the -soft breeze was fanning her fevered cheeks, the -rustling of the leaves had become a reality; she -was walking over the hill to meet the flock of sheep, -for she could hear the shepherd’s dog barking and -the melodious tinkling of the leader’s bell.</p> - -<p class='c000'>From the moment of their entrance many curious -glances had been directed at them. People wondered -who this odd-looking, ill-clad couple could -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>be. When Lizschen became absorbed in the woodland -scene and stood staring at it as if it were the -most wonderful thing on earth, those who observed -her exchanged glances, and several onlookers -smiled. Their entrance, Lizschen’s bewilderment, -and then her ecstasy over the painting had all happened -in the duration of three or four minutes. -The liveried attendants had noticed them and had -looked at one another with glances that expressed -doubt as to what their duty was under the circumstances. -Clearly these were not the kind of people -for whom this exhibition had been arranged. -They were neither lovers of art nor prospective -purchasers. And they looked so shabby and so -distressingly poor and ill-nourished.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Finally one attendant, bolder than the rest, approached -them, and tapping Braun lightly upon -the sleeve, said, quite good-naturedly:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I think you’ve made a mistake.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Braun looked at him and shook his head and -turned to Lizschen to see if she understood. But -Lizschen neither saw nor heard. Then the man, -seeing that he was dealing with foreigners, became -more abrupt in his demeanour, and, with a grunt, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>pointed to the door. Braun understood. To be summarily -ordered from the place seemed more natural -to him than to be permitted to remain unmolested -amid all that splendour. It was more in keeping -with the experiences of his life. “Come, Lizschen,” -he said, “let us go.” Lizschen turned to -him with a smiling face, but the smile died quickly -when she beheld the attendant, and she clutched -Braun’s arm. “Yes, let us go,” she whispered to -him, and they went out.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>III</h3> - -<p class='c010'>On the homeward journey not a word was -spoken. Braun’s thoughts were bitter, rebellious; -the injustice of life’s arrangements rankled deeply -at that moment, his whole soul felt outraged, fate -was cruel, life was wrong, all wrong. Lizschen, on -the other hand, walked lightly, in a state of mild -excitement, all her spirit elated over the picture -she had seen. It had been but a brief communion -with nature, but it had thrilled the hidden chords -of her nature, chords of whose existence she had -never dreamed before. Alas! the laws of this same -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>beautiful nature are inexorable. For that brief -moment of happiness Lizschen was to submit to -swift, terrible punishment. Within a few steps of -the dark tenement which Lizschen called home a -sudden weakness came upon her, then a violent fit -of coughing which racked her frail body as though -it would render it asunder. When she took her -hands from her mouth Braun saw that they were -red. A faintness seized him, but he must not yield -to it. Without a word he gathered Lizschen in his -arms and carried her through the hallway into the -rear building and then up four flights of stairs to -the apartment where she lived.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then the doctor came—he was a young man, -with his own struggle for existence weighing upon -him, and yet ever ready for such cases as this where -the only reward lay in the approbation of his own -conscience—and Braun hung upon his face for the -verdict.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is just another attack like the last,” he was -saying to himself. “She will have to lie in bed -for a day, and then she will be just as well as before. -Perhaps it may even help her! But it is -nothing more serious. She has had many of them. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>I saw them myself. It is not so terribly serious. -Not yet. Oh, it cannot be yet! Maybe, after -a long time—but not yet—it is too soon.” Over -and over again he argued thus, and in his heart -did not believe it. Then the doctor shook his head -and said: “It’s near the end, my friend. A few -days—perhaps a week. But she cannot leave her -bed again.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Braun stood alone in the room, upright, motionless, -with his fists clenched until the nails dug deep -into the skin, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, -feeling nothing. His eyes were dry, his lips -parched. The old woman with whom Lizschen -lived came out and motioned to him to enter the -bedroom. Lizschen was whiter than the sheets, but -her eyes were bright, and she was smiling and holding -out her arms to him. “You must go now, -<i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Liebchen</span></i>,” she said faintly. “I will be all right -to-morrow. Kiss me good-night, and I will dream -about the beautiful picture.” He kissed her and -went out without a word. All that night he walked -the streets.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the day dawned he went to her again. -She was awake and happy. “I dreamt about it all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>night, <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Liebchen</span></i>,” she said, joyfully. “Do you -think they would let me see it again?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He went to his work, and all that day the roar -of the machines set his brain a-whirring and a-roaring -as if it, too, had become a machine. He -worked with feverish activity, and when the machines -stopped he found that he had earned a dollar -and five cents. Then he went to Lizschen and -gave her fifty cents, which he told her he had found -in the street. Lizschen was much weaker, and -could only speak in a whisper. She beckoned to -him to hold his ear to her lips, and she whispered:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“<i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Liebchen</span></i>, if I could only see the picture once -more.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I will go and ask them, darling,” he said. -“Perhaps they will let me bring it to you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Braun went to his room and took from his trunk -a dagger that he had brought with him from -Russia. It was a rusty, old-fashioned affair which -even the pawnbrokers had repeatedly refused to -accept. Why he kept it or for what purpose he -now concealed it in his coat he could not tell. His -mind had ceased to work coherently: his brain was -now a machine, whirring and roaring like a thousand -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>devils. Thought? Thought had ceased. -Braun was a machine, and machines do not -think.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He walked to the picture gallery. He had forgotten -its exact location, but some mysterious instinct -guided him straight to the spot. The doors -were already opened, but the nightly throng of -spectators had hardly begun to arrive. And now -a strange thing happened. Braun entered and -walked straight to the painting of the woodland -scene that hung near the door. There was no -attendant to bar his progress. A small group of -persons, gathered in front of a canvas that hung -a few feet away, had their backs turned to him, -and stood like a screen between him and the employees -of the place. Without a moment’s hesitation, -without looking to right or to left, walking -with a determined stride and making no effort to -conceal his purpose, and, at the same time, oblivious -of the fact that he was unobserved, Braun approached -the painting, raised it from the hook, -and, with the wire dangling loosely from it, took -the painting under his arm and walked out of the -place. If he had been observed, would he have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>brought his dagger into use? It is impossible to -tell. He was a machine, and his brain was roaring. -Save for one picture that rose constantly -before his vision, he was blind. All that he saw -was Lizschen, so white in her bed, waiting to see -the woodland picture once more.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He brought it straight to her room. She was -too weak to move, too worn out to express any -emotion, but her eyes looked unutterable gratitude -when she saw the painting.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did they let you have it?” she whispered.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They were very kind,” said Braun. “I told -them you wanted to see it and they said I could -have it as long as I liked. When you are better -I will take it back.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Lizschen looked at him wistfully. “I will never -be better, <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Liebchen</span></i>,” she whispered.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Braun hung the picture at the foot of the bed -where Lizschen could see it without raising her -head, and then went to the window and sat there -looking out into the night. Lizschen was happy -beyond all bounds. Her eyes drank in every detail -of the wonderful scene until her whole being became -filled with the delightful spirit that pervaded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>and animated the painting. A master’s hand had -imbued that deepening blue sky with the sadness -of twilight, the soft, sweet pathos of departing -day, and Lizschen’s heart beat responsive to every -shade and shadow. In the waning light every outline -was softened; here tranquillity reigned supreme, -and Lizschen felt soothed. Yet in the distance, -across the valley, the gloom of night had -begun to gather. Once or twice Lizschen tried -to penetrate this gloom, but the effort to see what -the darkness was hiding tired her eyes.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>IV</h3> - -<p class='c010'>The newspapers the next day were full of the -amazing story of the stolen painting. They told -how the attendants at the gallery had discovered -the break in the line of paintings and had immediately -notified the manager of the place, who at -once asked the number of the picture.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s number thirty-eight,” they told him. He -seized a catalogue, turned to No. 38, and turned -pale. “It’s Corot’s ‘Spring Twilight!’” he -cried. “It cost the owner three thousand dollars, -and we’re responsible for it!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>The newspapers went on to tell how the police -had been notified, and how the best detectives had -been set to work to trace the stolen painting, how -all the thieves’ dens in New York had been ransacked, -and all the thieves questioned and cross-questioned, -all the pawnshops searched—and it all -had resulted in nothing. But such excitement -rarely leaks into the Ghetto, and Braun, at his -machine, heard nothing of it, knew nothing of -it, knew nothing of anything in the world save -that the machines were roaring away in his -brain and that Lizschen was dying. As soon as -his work was done he went to her. She smiled at -him, but was too weak to speak. He seated himself -beside the bed and took her hand in his. All -day long she had been looking at the picture; all -day long she had been wandering along the road -that ran over the hill, and now night had come and -she was weary. But her eyes were glad, and when -she turned them upon Braun he saw in them love -unutterable and happiness beyond all description. -His eyes were dry; he held her hand and stroked -it mechanically; he knew not what to say. Then -she fell asleep and he sat there hour after hour, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>heedless of the flight of time. Suddenly Lizschen -sat upright, her eyes wide open and staring.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I hear them,” she cried. “I hear them plainly. -Don’t you, <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Liebchen</span></i>? The sheep are coming! -They’re coming over the hill! Watch, <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Liebchen</span></i>; -watch, precious!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>With all the force that remained in her she -clutched his hand and pointed to the painting at -the foot of the bed. Then she swayed from side -to side, and he caught her in his arms.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Lizschen!” he cried. “Lizschen!” But her -head fell upon his arm and lay motionless.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The doctor came and saw at a glance that the -patient was beyond his ministering. “It is over, -my friend,” he said to Braun. At the sound of a -voice Braun started, looked around him quite bewildered, -and then drew a long breath which -seemed to lift him out of the stupor into which he -had fallen. “Yes, it is over,” he said, and, according -to the custom of the orthodox, he tore a -rent in his coat at the neck to the extent of a hand’s -breadth. Then he took the painting under his arm -and left the house.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was now nearly two o’clock in the morning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>and the streets were deserted. A light rain had -begun to fall, and Braun took off his coat to wrap -it around his burden. He walked like one in a -dream, seeing nothing, hearing nothing save a dull -monotonous roar which seemed to come from all -directions and to centre in his brain.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The doors of the gallery were closed and all was -dark. Braun looked in vain for a bell, and after -several ineffectual taps on the door began to pound -lustily with his fist and heel. Several night stragglers -stopped in the rain, and presently a small -group had gathered. Questions were put to Braun, -but he did not hear them. He kicked and pounded -on the door, and the noise resounded through the -streets as if it would rouse the dead. Presently -the group heard the rattling of bolts and the -creaking of a rusty key in a rusty lock, and all -became quiet. The door swung open, and a frightened -watchman appeared.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What’s the matter? Is there a fire?” he -asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A policeman made his way through the group, -and looked inquiringly from Braun to the watchman. -Without uttering a word Braun held out -<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>the painting, and at the sight of it the watchman -uttered a cry of amazement and delight.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s the stolen Corot!” he exclaimed. Then -turning to Braun, “Where did you get it? Who -had it? Do you claim the reward?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Braun’s lips moved, but no sound came from -them, and he turned on his heel and began to walk -off, when the policeman laid a hand on his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not so fast, young man. You’ll have to give -some kind of an account of how you got this,” he -said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Braun looked at him stupidly, and the policeman -became suspicious. “I guess you’d better come -to the station-house,” he said, and without more -ado walked off with his prisoner. Braun made no -resistance, felt no surprise, offered no explanation. -At the station-house they asked him many questions, -but Braun only looked vacantly at the questioner, -and had nothing to say. They locked him -in a cell over night, a gloomy cell that opened on a -dimly lighted corridor, and there Braun sat until -the day dawned, never moving, never speaking. -Once, during the night, the watchman on duty -in this corridor thought he heard a voice whispering -<span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>“Lizschen! Lizschen!” but it must have been -the rain that now was pouring in torrents.</p> - -<h3 class='c009'>V</h3> - -<p class='c011'>“There the wicked cease from troubling; and there the -weary be at rest.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“There the prisoners rest together; they hear not the -voice of the oppressor.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“The small and the great are there; and the servant is -free from his master.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is written in Israel that the rabbi must give -his services at the death-bed of even the lowliest. -The coffin rested on two stools in the same room -in which she died; beside it stood the rabbi, clad in -sombre garments, reading in a listless, mechanical -fashion from the Hebrew text of the Book of Job, -interpolating here and there some time-worn, commonplace -phrase of praise, of exhortation, of consolation. -He had not known her; this was merely -part of his daily work.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The sweatshop had been closed for an hour; -for one hour the machines stood silent and deserted; -the toilers were gathered around the coffin, listening -to the rabbi. They were pale and gaunt, but -not from grief. The machines had done that. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>They had rent their garments at the neck, to the -extent of a hand’s breadth, but not from grief. -It was the law. A figure that they had become accustomed -to see bending over one of the machines -had finished her last garment. Dry-eyed, in a sort -of mild wonder, they had come to the funeral services. -And some were still breathing heavily from -the morning’s work. After all, it was pleasant to -sit quiet for one hour.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Someone whispered the name of Braun, and they -looked around. Braun was not there.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He will not come,” whispered one of the men. -“It is in the newspaper. He was sent to prison -for three years. He stole something. A picture, -I think. I am not sure.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Those who heard slowly shook their heads. -There was no feeling of surprise, no shock. And -what was there to say? He had been one of them. -He had drunk out of the same cup with them. -They knew the taste. What mattered the one -particular dreg that he found? They had no curiosity. -In the case of Nitza, it was her baby who -was dying because she could not buy it the proper -food. Nitza had told them. And so when Nitza -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>cut her throat they all knew what she had found in -the cup. Braun hadn’t told—but what mattered -it? Probably something more bitter than gall. -And three years in prison? Yes. To be sure. He -had stolen something.</p> - -<p class='c012'>“<em>Wherefore is light given to him that is in -misery</em>,” droned the rabbi, “<em>and life unto the bitter -in soul</em>:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“<em>Which long for death, but it cometh not; and -dig for it more than for hid treasures</em>;</p> - -<p class='c012'>“<em>Which rejoice exceedingly, and are glad, when -they can find the grave?</em>”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And the rabbi, faithful in the performance of -his duty, went on to expound and explain. But -his hearers could not tarry much longer. The hour -was nearing its end, and the machines would soon -have to start again.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>It is an old story in the Ghetto, one that lovers -tell to their sweethearts, who always cry when they -hear it. The machines still roar and whirr, as if a -legion of wild spirits were shrieking within them, -and many a tear is stitched into the garments, but -you never see them, madame—no, gaze as intently -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>upon your jacket as you will, the tear has left no -stain. There is an old man at the corner machine, -grey-haired and worn, but he works briskly. He -is the first to arrive each morning, and the last to -leave each night, and all his soul is in his work. -His machine is an old one, and roars louder than -the rest, but he does not hear it. Day and night, -sleeping and waking, there are a hundred thousand -machines roaring away in his brain. What cares -he for one more or one less?</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE SADER GUEST</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>Rosnofsky was explaining to me his theory of -the lost blue with which the ancient Hebrew priests -dyed the talith, when the door opened and lanky -Lazarus entered, hat in hand. He entered cautiously, -keeping one hand on the doorknob, and one -foot firmly planted for a backward spring. He -seemed rather embarrassed to find a third person -present, but the matter that he had on his mind -was weighty—so weighty, in fact, that, after a -moment’s hesitation, he plunged right into the -heart of it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mr. Rosnofsky,” he said, “I love your daughter.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosnofsky’s eyes opened wide, and his mouth -shut tight.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And she loves me,” Lazarus went on.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosnofsky’s eyes contracted, until they gleamed -through the tiniest kind of a slit between the -lids. His hand fumbled behind his back among -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>a number of tailor’s tools that lay on the -table.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And I have come to ask your consent to our -marriage.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Crash! Rosnofsky’s aim was bad. The shears, -instead of reaching Lazarus, shattered the window -pane. Lazarus was flying rapidly down the street. -Then Rosnofsky turned to me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And this mixture, as I was saying, will produce -exactly the same blue that the Talmud describes.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was worth while to become acquainted with -Rosnofsky. When aroused, or crossed, or seriously -annoyed, he had a frightful temper, and the -man whose misfortune it had been to stir him up -was the object of a malediction as bitter as it was -fierce, extending through all his family for, usually, -a dozen generations. Then, in startling contrast -to this, he was a devout son of Abraham, and, -in moments of serious reflection, would be almost -overcome by a feeling of piety, and at such times -all that was good and noble in his nature asserted -itself. It was a strange blending of the prosaic -with the patriarchal.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>“How came the original colour to be lost?” I -asked. Rosnofsky looked at me for a moment. -Then he shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That scamp has upset me completely,” he said. -“Some other time I will tell you. Just now I can -think of nothing but the effrontery of that scoundrel.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What makes you so bitter toward him?” I ventured -to ask.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Bitter! Bitter! He wants to marry Miriam. -The audacity of the wretch! My only child. And -here he practically tells me to my face that he has -been making love to her, and that he has ascertained -that she is in love with him. And I never -knew it. Never even suspected it. A curse on the -scamp! Sneaking into my home to steal my -daughter from me. The dishonourable villain! I -trusted him. The viper. May he suffer a million -torments! May the fiends possess him!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I ventured to suggest that it was the way of the -world. I departed. Somewhat hastily. I did not -like the way he glared at me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The next time I saw Rosnofsky he was walking -excitedly up and down his shop, tearing his hair -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span><i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en route</span></i>. When he saw me he sprang forward and -clutched me by the shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Here!” he cried. “I will leave it to you. You -were here when he had the audacity to confess his -guilt to my face. Read this.” He thrust a crumpled -piece of paper into my hand. “Read it, and -tell me if there is another such villain upon this -earth. Oh, I shall go mad!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I read it. It was from Lazarus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I told you that I loved your daughter,” he -wrote. “I told you that she loved me. And, like -an honest man, I asked you to consent to our marriage. -You refused. I now appeal to you again. -You will make us both very happy by giving your -consent, as we would like you to be present at the -wedding. If you do not give your consent, we -will not invite you. But we will get married, anyway. -We will elope at the first opportunity. The -only way to stop it is to keep Miriam locked in the -house. Then I shall call in the police.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was signed, “Lovingly, your son-in-law-to-be.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How can I punish him?” asked Rosnofsky. I -promised to think it over. I had called merely to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>tell Rosnofsky that I would accept his invitation -to supper on Sader night, and to thank him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You know the law,” he said. “When you -come bring with you a plan to punish this scoundrel.”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>It was the eve of the Passover, and I stood in the -gloomy hallway tapping at Rosnofsky’s door. -Dimly through the darkness I saw a quivering -shadow, but in the labyrinths of tenement corridors -it is unwise to investigate shadows. The door -opened, and Rosnofsky, with “praying cap” -upon his head, welcomed me to the feast of the -Sader.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Miriam was as sweet as a rose. I have not told -you how pretty she was, nor shall I begin now, for -it is a very tempting subject, such as would be -likely to beguile a man into forgetting the thread -of his story, and it was too dangerous for me to -enter upon. Suffice it that her eyes were as glorious -as—but there!</p> - -<p class='c000'>The table was arranged for four, Rosnofsky, -Miriam, and myself, and opposite Miriam’s seat -was the chair for the Stranger.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>Now the custom of celebrating this feast, according -to the ritual, is like this:</p> - -<p class='c000'>Holding aloft the unleavened bread, the head -of the house must say:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“This is the bread of affliction which our ancestors -ate in the land of Egypt. Let all those -who are hungry enter and eat thereof; and all who -are in distress come and celebrate the Passover.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And the youngest-born must arise and open the -door so that the Stranger may enter and take his -place at the table, and, even though he slew one of -their kin, that night he is a sacred guest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And—as you have no doubt already opined—hardly -had Miriam opened the door when, with pale -face, but with lips that were pressed in grim determination, -in walked Lazarus. Now, to this day I -do not know whether Miriam expected him, or what -her feelings were when he entered. She has refused -to tell me. It needed but one glance to assure -me that if there was any secret Rosnofsky had not -been in it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>With a cry of rage he sprang to his feet, and I -feared that he would hurl a knife at the intruder. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>But an instant later he recovered himself, and with -a gurgling, choking sound sank into his chair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The grace of God be with you all,” saluted -Lazarus, still very pale. Then,</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Am I a welcome guest?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosnofsky seemed to be on the point of exploding -with rage, but at this question he started as if -he had been struck. After a moment’s silence he -arose with great dignity—and holding out his -hand—the strength of his piety never more forcibly -illustrated—said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Forgive my anger, my son. You are welcome -to the Feast of the Passover.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And resuming his seat he chanted:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Blessed art Thou, O Eternal, our God, King of -the Universe, Creator of the fruit of wine!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was the beginning of the service. Lazarus, -with his eyes upon the table, chanted the responses, -and I, who knew nothing of the ritual, looked at -Miriam, who, I assure you, was delightful to behold, -particularly when her eyes twinkled as they -did now.</p> - -<p class='c000'>By the time he had finished the Sader, Rosnofsky’s -troubled spirit had become soothed, and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>final grace was delivered in a voice so calm and -with a manner so soothing, that when he looked up -Lazarus was emboldened to speak.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are angry with me, Father Rosnofsky,” -he ventured.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Let us not speak of unpleasant things this -night,” replied the tailor, gently. “This is a holy -night.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Lazarus, in no way abashed, deftly led the old -man to expound some of the intricate sayings of -the rabbis upon the Passover, which Rosnofsky, -who was something of a theologian, did with great -eagerness. Now, how it came about I cannot tell, -but Lazarus was so greatly interested in this discussion, -and Rosnofsky was so determined to prove -that the old rabbis were all in the wrong on this -one point, that when the meal was over he declared -that if Lazarus would call the next night he would -have a book that would convince him. Lazarus -had the discretion to take his departure. When he -had gone Rosnofsky puffed his pipe in silence for -some moments. Then, with a quaint smile, he -turned to me and said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The young rogue!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And then he gazed at Miriam until she grew red.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span> - <h2 class='c005'>A RIFT IN THE CLOUD</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>Though the sky be grey and dreary, yet will the -faintest rift reveal a vision of the dazzling -brightness that lies beyond.</p> - -<p class='c016'>So does a word, a look, a single act of a human -being often reveal the glorious beauty of a soul.</p> - -<p class='c014'>So is it written in the Talmud, and it needs no -rabbi to expound it. What I am about to tell you -is not a rounded tale; it hardly rises to the dignity -of a sketch. There is a man who lives in the very -heart of a big city, and I once had a peep into his -heart. His name is Polatschek. He makes cigars -during the day and gets drunk every night.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In that Hungarian colony which clusters around -East Houston Street, the lines that separate Gentile, -Jew, and Gipsy are not more strictly drawn -than are the lines between the lines. And as the -pedigree of every member is the common property -of the colony, the social status of each group is -pretty clearly defined.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>Being an outcast, Polatschek has no social status -whatever, and all that the colony has ever known -or has ever cared to know about him is this:</p> - -<p class='c000'>By a curious atavistic freak Polatschek was born -honest. In the little town in southern Hungary -from which he came his great-grandfather had been -a highwayman, his grandfather had been executed -for murder, his father was serving a long sentence -for burglary, and his two younger brothers were -on the black list of the police. And so, when it was -announced that one of the Polatscheks was coming -to New York, Houston Street society drew in its -latch-string, and one of the storekeepers even went -so far as to tell the story to a police detective. -This, however, was frowned upon, for Goulash -Avenue—as the Hungarians laughingly call -Houston Street—loves to keep its secrets to -itself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is no need to describe the appearance of -Polatschek; it is extremely uninteresting. He has -a weak chin, and when he is sober he is very timid. -A Hungarian does not easily make friends outside -his own people, and so it came to pass that Polatschek -had no friends at all.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>How Polatschek lived none but himself knew. -Somewhere in Rivington Street he had a room where, -it was once said, he kept books, though no one knew -what kind of books they were. For a few hours -every day he worked at cigar-making, earning just -enough money to keep body and soul together. He -was, in short, as uninteresting a man as you could -find, and all who knew him shunned him. Night -after night he would sit in Natzi’s café, where the -gipsies play on Thursdays, drinking slivovitz—which -is the last stage. He would drink, drink, -drink, and never a word to a soul. On music nights -he would drink more than usual and his eyes would -fill with tears. We all used to think they were -maudlin tears, but we had grown accustomed to -Polatschek and his strange habits, and nobody paid -attention to him.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>It was music night at Natzi’s, and Polatschek -was sitting close to the gipsies with his eyes fixed -upon the leader. He had been drinking a little -more than usual, and I marvelled that a man in his -maudlin condition should take such a deep interest -in music.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>They were playing the “Rakoczy March,” which -only the Hungarians know how to play, and -Polatschek was swaying his head in time to the -melody.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It seemed so strange, this friendless, hopeless -man’s love for music, so thoroughly foreign to his -dreary, barren nature as I had pictured it in my -mind, that when the gipsies had finished I spoke -to him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That was beautiful, was it not?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He looked at me in surprise, his eyes wide open, -and after gazing at me for a moment he shook his -head.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, that was not beautiful. The ‘Rakoczy -March’ is the greatest march in the world, but -these gipsies do not know how to play it. They -cannot play. They have no life, no soul. They -play it as if they were machines.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Startled by his vehemence, I could only murmur, -“Oh!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look!” he exclaimed, rising in agitation. He -took up the leader’s violin and bow. “Listen! -This is the ‘Rakoczy’!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The gipsy leader had sprung to his feet, but -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>at the first tone of the violin he stood as if petrified. -A silence had fallen upon the room. With his eyes -fixed upon mine, his lips pressed firmly together, -Polatschek played the “Rakoczy March.” The -guests were staring at him in blank amazement. -The gipsies, with sparkling eyes, were listening to -those magic strains, but Polatschek was unmindful -of it all, and—I felt proud because he was playing -that march for me. I have heard Sarasate play -the “Rakoczy March.” I have heard Mme. Urso -try it, and I have heard Remenyi, who, being a -Hungarian, played it best of them all. But I -had never heard it played as Polatschek played -it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As I saw the lines in that face grow sharper, -saw the body quiver with patriotic ardour, those -ringing, rhythmic tones sang of the tramp, tramp, -tramp of armies, of cavalcades of horses, of the clash -and clangour of battle. Then it all grew fainter -and fainter as if the armies were vanishing in the -distance, and the sad strains of the undersong rose -to the surface of the melody and I heard that sobbing -appeal which lies hidden somewhere in every -Hungarian song. It died away, there was a moment’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>silence—Polatschek remained standing, -looking at me—then a mighty shout went up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ujra! Ujra!” they cried. It was an encore -they wanted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But Polatschek had resumed his seat and his slivovitz, -and in a few moments he was very drunk.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span> - <h2 class='c005'>OUT OF HIS ORBIT</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>In order to emphasise the moral of a tale, it is -safer to state it at the very beginning. The moral -of the story of Rosenstein is this: Woe be to the -man who attempts to teach his wife a lesson! Woe -be to him if he fail! Woe be to him if he succeed! -Whatever happens, woe be to him! In witness -whereof this tale is offered.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Rosenstein wanted one room papered in -red, and Mr. Rosenstein held that the yellow paper -that adorned the walls was good enough for another -year.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But,” argued his wife, “we have laid by a little -money in the past years, and we can easily afford -it. And I love red paper on the walls.” Rosenstein, -by the way, owned a dozen tenement houses, -had no children, and led a life of strict economy -on perhaps one-fiftieth of his income. Besides, -Rosenstein owned a lucrative little dry-goods store -that brought in more money. And he had never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>smoked and had never drunk. But the more his -wife insisted upon the red paper the more stubborn -he became in his opposition, until, one morning -after a heated discussion in which he had failed -disastrously to bring forth any reasonable argument -to support his side of the case, he suddenly -and viciously yielded.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Very well,” he said, putting on his hat and -starting for the door; “get your red paper. Have -your own way. But from this moment forth I become -a drinker.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Rosenstein turned pale. “Husband! -Husband!” she cried entreatingly, turning toward -him with clasped hands. But Rosenstein, without -another word, strode out of the room and slammed -the door behind him. Mrs. Rosenstein sank into -a chair, appalled. The pride of her life had been -that her husband had never touched liquor, and the -one disquieting thought that from time to time -came to worry her was that some day he might fall. -And she felt that the first fall would mark the beginning -of ruin. She had known men whose -habits of drink had undermined their business -capacity. Her husband, she knew, was close, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>had a mania for accumulating money. But once -the demon of drink entered into his life she felt -that all this would change. He would become a -spendthrift. He would squander all that he had -saved. They would be homeless—perhaps they -would starve. And he was about to take the first -step. Her heart was almost broken. To follow -him she knew would be worse than useless. He -was stubborn—she had learned that—and there -was nothing for her to do but to accept the inevitable.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein meanwhile walked to the nearest -saloon. He had passed the place a thousand times, -but had never entered before. The bartender’s -eyes opened in mild surprise to see so patriarchal -a figure standing in front of the bar glaring at -him so determinedly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Give me a drink!” demanded Rosenstein.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What kind of a drink do you want?” asked -the bartender.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein looked bewildered. He did not know -one drink from another. He looked at the row of -bottles behind the counter, and then his face -lit up.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>“That bottle over there—the big black one.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was Benedictine. The bartender poured -some of it into a tiny liqueur glass, but Rosenstein -frowned.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I want a drink, I said, not a drop. Fill me -a big glass.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The wise bartender does not dispute with his -patrons as long as they have the means of paying -for what they order. Without a word he filled -a small goblet with the thick cordial, and Rosenstein, -without a word, gulped it down. The bartender -watched him in open-mouthed amazement, -charged him for four drinks, and then, as Rosenstein -walked haughtily out of the place, murmured -to himself: “Well, I’ll be hanged!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein walked aimlessly but joyfully down -the street, bowing to right and to left at the many -people who smiled upon him in so friendly a -fashion. When he came to the corner he was surprised -to see that the whole character of the street -had changed over night. Then it seemed to him -that a regiment of soldiers came marching up, -each man holding out a flowing bowl to him, that -he fell into line and joined the march, and that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>they all found themselves in a brilliant, dazzling -glare of several hundred suns. Then they shot -him from the mouth of a cannon, and when he -regained consciousness he recognised the features -of Mrs. Rosenstein and felt the grateful coolness -of the wet towels she was tenderly laying upon his -fevered head. It was nearly midnight.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein groaned in anguish.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What has happened?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You have been a drinker,” his wife replied, -“but it is all over now. Take a nice long sleep -and we will never speak of it again. And the yellow -paper will do for another year.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein watched the flaming pinwheels and -skyrockets that were shooting before his vision for -a while; then a horrible idea came to him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See how much money I have in my pockets,” -he said. His wife counted it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“One dollar and forty cents,” she said. A sigh -of relief rose from Rosenstein’s lips.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s all right, then. I only had two dollars when -I went out.” Then he fell peacefully asleep. -The next morning he faced his wife and pointed -out to her the awful lesson he had taught her.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>“You now see what your stubbornness can drive -me to,” he said. “I have squandered sixty cents -and lost a whole day’s work in the store merely to -convince you that it is all nonsense to put red -paper on the walls.” But his wife was clinging -to him and crying and vowing that she would never -again insist upon anything that would add to their -expenses. And then they kissed and made up, -and Rosenstein went to his store, somewhat weak -in the legs and somewhat dizzy, and with a queer -feeling in his head, but elated that he had won a -complete mastery over his stubborn spouse so -cheaply.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The store was closed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein gazed blankly at the barred door and -windows. It was the bookkeeper’s duty to arrive at -eight o’clock and open the store. It was now nine -o’clock. Where was the bookkeeper? And where -were the three saleswomen? And the office-boy? -As quickly as he could, Rosenstein walked to the -bookkeeper’s house. He found that young man -dressing himself and whistling cheerfully. The -bookkeeper looked amazed when he beheld his employer.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>“What is the meaning of this?” demanded -Rosenstein. “Why are you not at the store? -Where are the keys?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The young man’s face fell. He looked at -Rosenstein curiously. Then, “Were you only -joking?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Joking?” repeated Rosenstein, more amazed -than ever. “Me? How? When? Are you -crazy?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You told us all yesterday to close the store and -go and have a good time, and that we needn’t come -back for a week.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein steadied himself against the door. -He tried to speak, but something was choking him. -Finally, pointing to his breast, he managed to -gasp faintly:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Me?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The clerk nodded.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And what else did I do?” asked Rosenstein, -timidly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You gave us each five dollars and—and asked -us to sing something and—what is it, Mr. Rosenstein. -Are you ill?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Go—go!” gasped Rosenstein. “Get everybody -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>and open the store again. Quickly. And tell -them all not to speak of what happened yesterday. -They—they—can—they can (gulp) keep the -money. But the store must be opened and nobody -must tell.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He staggered out into the street. A policeman -saw him clutching a lamp-post to steady himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Are you sick, Mr. Rosenstein?” he asked. -“You look pale. Can’t I get you a drink?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein recoiled in horror. “I am not a -drinker!” he cried. Then he walked off, his head -in a whirl, his heart sick with a sudden dread. He -took a long walk, and when he felt that he had -regained control of himself he returned to the -store. It was open, and everything was going on -as usual. And there was a man—a stranger—waiting -for him. When he beheld Rosenstein the -stranger’s face lit up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good-morning!” he cried, cheerfully. “Sorry -to trouble you so early, but this is rent day, and -I need the money.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein turned pale. The saleswomen had -turned their heads away with a discretion that was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>painfully apparent. Rosenstein’s eyes blinked -rapidly several times. Then he said, huskily, -“What money?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The stranger looked at him in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t you remember this?” he asked, holding -out a card. Rosenstein looked at him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, this is my card. But what of it?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look on the other side.” Rosenstein looked. -Staring him in the face was: “I owe Mister -Casey thirty-six dollars. I. Rosenstein.” The -writing was undeniably his. And suddenly there -came to him a dim, distant, dreamlike recollection -of standing upon a mountain-top with a band of -music playing around him and a Mr. Casey handing -him some money.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I thought that was an old dream,” he muttered -to himself. Then, turning to the stranger, -he asked, “Who are you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Me?” said the stranger, in surprise; “why, -I’m Casey—T. Casey, of Casey’s café. You told -me to come as soon as I needed the——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hush!” cried Rosenstein. “Never mind any -more.” He opened a safe, took out the money, -and paid Mr. Casey. When the latter had gone -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>Rosenstein called the bookkeeper aside, and, in a -fearful tone, whispered in his ear:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ach! I am so glad when I think that I didn’t, -open the safe yesterday.” The bookkeeper looked -at him in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You tried, sir,” he said. “Don’t you remember -when you said, ‘The numbers won’t stand -still,’ and asked me if I couldn’t open it? And I -told you I didn’t know the combination?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein gazed upon him in horror. The -room became close. He went out and stood in the -doorway, gasping for breath. In the street, -directly in front of the store, stood a white horse. -A seedy-looking individual stood on the curb holding -the halter and gazing expectantly at Rosenstein.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good-morning, boss!” he cried, cheerfully.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein glared at him. “Go away!” he cried. -“I don’t allow horses to stand in front of my store. -Take him somewhere else.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll take him anywhere ye say, boss,” said the -man, touching his cap. “But ye haven’t paid for -him yet.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein’s heart sank. Then suddenly a wave -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>of bitter resentment surged through him. He -strode determinedly toward the man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did I buy that horse?” he asked, fiercely.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Sure ye did,” answered the man; “for yer -milk store.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But I haven’t got a milk store,” answered -Rosenstein. The man’s eyes blinked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t I know it?” he cried. “Didn’t ye tell -me so yerself? But didn’t ye say ye wuz going to -start one? Didn’t ye say that this horse was as white -as milk, and that if I’d sell him to ye y’d open -a milk store? Didn’t ye make me take him out of -me wagon and run him up and down the street fer -ye? Didn’t ye make me take all the kids on the -block fer a ride? Am I a liar? Huh?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein walked unsteadily into the store -and threw his arm around the bookkeeper’s -neck.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Get rid of him. For God’s sake get him away -from here! Give him some money—as little as you -can. Only get him away. Some day I will increase -your salary. I am sick to-day. I cannot -do any business. I am going home.” He started -for the rear door, but stopped at the threshold.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>“Don’t take the horse, whatever you do,” he said. -Then he went home.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Rosenstein was sitting on the doorsteps -knitting and beaming with joy. When she saw -her husband she ran toward him. The tears stood -in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Dearest husband! Dear, generous husband! -To punish me for my stubbornness and then to fill -me with happiness by gratifying the dearest wish -of my heart! It is too much! I do not deserve -it! One room is all I wanted!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein’s heart nearly stopped beating. -Upon his ears fell a strange noise of scraping and -tearing that came from the doorway of his house.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Wh-wh-what is it?” he asked, feebly. His -wife smiled.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The paper-hangers are already at work,” she -said, joyfully. “They said you insisted that all -the work should be finished in one day, and they’ve -sent twenty men here.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mr. Rosenstein sank wearily down upon the -steps. The power of speech had left him. Likewise -the power of thought. His brain felt like a -maelstrom of chaotic, incoherent images. He -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>felt that he was losing his mind. A brisk-looking -young man, with a roll of red wall-paper in his -hand, came down the steps and doffed his hat to -Rosenstein.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good-morning!” he cried, cheerfully. (The -salutation “Good-morning” was beginning to go -through Rosenstein like a knife each time he heard -it.) “I did it. I didn’t think I could do it, but -I did. I tell you, sir, there isn’t another paper-hanger -in the city who could fill a job like that at -such short notice. Every single room in the house! -And red paper, too, which has to be handled so -carefully, and makes the work take so much longer. -But the job will be finished to-night, sir.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He walked off with the light tread and proud -mien of a man who has accomplished something. -Rosenstein looked after him bewildered. Then he -turned to his wife, but when he saw the smile and -the happy look that lit up her face he turned away -and sighed. How could he tell her?</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My love,” said Mrs. Rosenstein, after a long -pause, “promise me one thing and I will be happy -as long as I live.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein was silent. In a vague way he was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>wondering if this promise was based upon some -deed of yesterday that had not yet been revealed -to him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Promise me,” his wife went on, “that, no matter -what happens, you will never become a drinker -again.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Rosenstein sat bolt upright. He tried to speak. -A hundred different words and phrases crowded to -his lips, struggling for utterance. He became -purple with suppressed excitement. In a wild endeavour -to utter that promise so forcibly, so emphatically, -and so fiercely as not only to assure his -wife, but to relieve his suffering feelings, Rosenstein -could only sputter incoherently. Then, suddenly -realising the futility of the endeavour, and -feeling that his whole vocabulary was inadequate -to express the vehemence of his emotion, he gurgled -helplessly:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes. I promise.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And he kept the promise.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE POISONED CHAI</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>Bernstein sat in the furthest corner of the café, -brooding. The fiercest torments that plague the -human heart were rioting within him, as if they -would tear him asunder. Bernstein was of an impulsive, -overbearing nature, mature as far as years -went, yet with the untrained, inexperienced emotions -of a savage. To such natures the “no” from -a woman’s lips comes like a blow; the sudden knowledge -that those same lips can smile brightly upon -another follows like molten lead.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That whole afternoon Bernstein had suffered the -wildest tortures of jealousy. Had Natzi been a -younger man Bernstein’s resentment might not -have turned so hotly upon him. Yet Natzi was -almost of his own age, a weak-faced creature, with -an eternal smile, incapable of intense feeling, ignorant -of even the faintest shade of that passion -which he (Bernstein) had laid so humbly, so tenderly -at her feet—and it was Natzi she loved! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>Bernstein’s hand darted to his inner pocket and -came forth clutching a tiny object upon which he -gazed with the look of a fiend.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I may not have her,” he murmured, “but she -will never belong to him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He held the tiny thing in his lap, below the level -of the table, so that none other might see it, and -looked at it intently. It was a small phial; it contained -some colourless liquid.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The thought entered his brain to drain the contents -of that phial himself and put an end to the -fierce pain that was eating away his heart. Would -it not be for the best? There was no one to care. -The world held no one but her; perhaps his death -would bring the tears to those big brown eyes; she -might even come and kiss his cold forehead. But -after that Natzi would be master of those kisses, -upon Natzi’s lips hers would be pressed all the livelong -day.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The blood surged to his brain; he clutched -the table as though he would squeeze the wood -to pulp; before his eyes rose a mist—a red -mist—the red of blood. Slowly this mist cleared -away, and the face and form of Natzi loomed up -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>before him—Natzi, with patient, boyish eyes, smiling.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is the third time that I’ve said ‘Good-evening.’ -Have you been sleeping with your eyes -open?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No. No. Just thinking,” said Bernstein, -talking rapidly. “Sit down. Here, opposite me. -The light hurts my eyes. Come, let us have some -chai. Here, waiter! Two chais. Have them hot, -with plenty of rum.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You seem nervous, Bernstein. Aren’t you -well?” asked Natzi, solicitously.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, smoking too much. But let us talk about -yourself. How is the wood-carving business? Any -better?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Natzi shook his head, ruefully. “Worse,” he -answered. “They’re doing everything by machinery -these days, and the machines seem to be -improving all the time. The work is all mechanical -now. The only real pleasure I get out of my tools -is at night when I am home. Then I can carve the -things I like—things that don’t sell.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The waiter brought two cups of chai, with the -blue flames leaping brightly from the burning rum -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>on the surface. Bernstein’s eyes were intent upon -the flames.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I have not yet congratulated you,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He did not see the look that came into Natzi’s -eyes—a look of tenderness, of earnestness, a look -that Bernstein had never seen there, although he -had known Natzi many years.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes,” said Natzi, thoughtfully. “I am to be -congratulated. It is more than I deserve. I am -not worthy.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bernstein’s gaze was fastened upon the flames. -They were dancing brightly upon the amber liquid.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She is so beautiful, so sweet, so pure,” Natzi -went on. “To think that all that happiness is for -me!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The flames changed from blue to red. Bernstein’s -brain whirled. He felt a wild impulse to -throw himself upon his companion and seize him by -the throat and strangle him, and cry aloud so that -all could hear it: “You shall never have that happiness. -She belongs to me. She is part of my life, -part of myself. You cannot understand her. I -alone of all men understand her. Every thought of -my brain, every impulse of my being, every fibre of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>my body beats responsive to her. She was made -for me. No other shall have her!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then the thought of the phial in his hand recurred -to his mind and he became calm. The flames -died out, and Natzi slowly drained his cup. Bernstein -watched him with bloodshot eyes. Looking -up he met Natzi’s gaze bent upon him anxiously.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are not well, Bernstein. Let us go home.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, no,” Bernstein said, quickly. “It is just -nervousness. I have smoked too much.” He made -a feeble attempt at a smile. “Come,” said he, -draining his cup. “Let us have another. The -last. The very last. And after that we will drink -no more chai.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Two more cups were set before them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look,” said Bernstein, “is that lightning in -the sky?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Natzi turned his head toward the open doorway. -Swiftly, yet stealthily, Bernstein’s hand stretched -forth until it touched the blue flames that danced -on Natzi’s cup, hovered there a moment, and then -was withdrawn just as Natzi turned around. His -fingers had been scorched.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>“No, I see no lightning. The stars are shining.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Let us drink,” said Bernstein. “The last -drink.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am not a fire-eater,” said Natzi, smiling. -“Let us wait at least until the rum burns out.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bernstein lowered the flaming cup that, in his -eagerness, he had raised toward his lips and looked -at Natzi. Malice gleamed in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes. Let it cool. Then we will drink a toast.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“With all my heart,” said Natzi. “It shall be -a toast to her. A toast to the sweetest woman in -the world.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was a long pause. Once or twice Natzi -glanced hesitatingly at his companion, who sat -with bowed head, his eyes intent upon the flames -that leaped so brightly from his cup. Then Natzi -spoke, slowly at first, but gradually more rapidly, -and more animatedly as the intensity of his emotion -mastered him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you know, dear friend,” he began, “there -was a time when I thought she loved you? We were -together so much, the three of us, and she had so -many opportunities to know you—to know you as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>I knew you—to know your great, strong mind, -your tender heart, your steadfastness, your generous -nature, that could harbour no unworthy -thought. You pose as a cynic, as a man who looks -down upon the petty things that make up life for -most of us, but I—I, who have lived with you, -struggled with you, known so many of the trials -and heart-breakings of everyday life with you—I -know you better. True, you have no love for -women, and I often wondered how you could be so -blind to her sweetness, and to the charm that seemed -to fill the room whenever we three were together. -But I never took my eyes from her face, and when -I saw with what breathless interest she listened -whenever you spoke, whenever you told us of your -plans for uplifting the down-trodden, of your innermost -thoughts and hopes and feelings, I read in -her eyes a fondness for you that filled me with -despair.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bernstein was breathing heavily. His lips -quivered; his face twitched; the blood had mounted -to his cheeks. His eyes were downcast, fastened -upon the blue flames of the chai, dancing and leaping -in fantastic shapes.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>“That time you were sick—do you remember? -When the doctor said there was no hope on earth, -when everyone felt that the end had come, when -you lay for days white and still, hardly breathing, -with the pallor of death upon your face—do you -remember? And I nursed you—sat at your bedside -through four days and four nights without a -minute’s rest. And then, when the doctor said the -crisis had passed and you would get well, I fainted -away from sheer weakness—do you remember?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Perspiration in huge drops was trickling slowly -down Bernstein’s forehead. His lips were dry. -His teeth were tightly clenched.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And you thought I had done it all for friendship’s -sake, and I listened to your outpouring of -gratitude, taking it all for myself, without a word—without -a word! Ah, my dear friend, it was hateful -to deceive you; but how could I tell the truth? -But now I have no shame in telling it. I did it for -her. All for her. To save you for her. That was -the only thought in my poor, whirling brain during -those long, weary days and nights. I felt that if -you died she would die. I knew the intensity of her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>nature, and I knew that if aught happened to the -man she loved she would die of grief. And now to -think you never cared for her, and that it was I -whom she always loved!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Natzi looked at the bowed head before him with -tender smile. Bernstein was trembling.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am glad, though, that all happened as it -did. Had I nursed you only for your own sake, -much as I loved you, I might have weakened, my -strength might not have held out. For a man can -do that for his love which he cannot do for himself. -And, perhaps, after all, it was an excellent lesson -for me to learn to bear bitter disappointment.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The flames in Bernstein’s cup were burning low. -With every breath of air they flickered and -trembled. They would soon die out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look,” said Natzi, reaching into his pocket. -“Look at this little piece that I carved during the -hours that I sat at your bedside—to keep me awake. -I have carried it over my heart ever since.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Bernstein looked up. His eyes were frightfully -bloodshot. His face was ashen. In Natzi’s hand -he beheld a tiny carving in wood, fashioned with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>exquisite skill and grace, of a woman’s head. The -flame in Natzi’s cup caught a light gust of air -that stirred for a moment, leaped brightly, as if -on purpose to illumine the features of the carved -image, then flickered and went out. Bernstein had -recognised the likeness. Those features were -burning in his brain.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Every night since then I have set this image -before me, and I have prayed to God to always keep -her as sweet, as pure, and as beautiful as He keeps -the flowers in His woods. And every morning I -have prayed to Him to fill her life with sunshine -and gladness, and to let no sorrow fall upon her. -And every day I carried it pressed against my heart -and I felt sustained and strengthened. Ah, Bernstein, -God is good! He gave her to me! He -brought about the revelation that her heart was -mine, her sweetness, her beauty—all were mine. -Come, comrade, we have gone through many a -struggle together. Let us drink a toast—you shall -name it!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Natzi held his cup aloft. With a hoarse cry -Bernstein half rose from his seat, swiftly reached -forward, and tore the cup from Natzi’s grasp.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>“To her!” he cried. “To her! May God -preserve her and forgive me!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He drained the cup, stared wildly at the astonished -countenance of Natzi, and, after a moment, -during which he swayed slightly from side to side, -fell forward upon the table, motionless.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span> - <h2 class='c005'>URIM AND THUMMIM</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>The hall was packed to the point of suffocation, -with thousands of gaunt, hollow-eyed strikers, -who hung upon the speaker’s impassioned words -with breathless interest. He was an eloquent -speaker, with a pale, delicate face, and dark eyes -that shone like burning coals.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He had been speaking for an hour, exhorting the -strikers to stand firm, and to bear in patience their -burden of suffering. When he dwelt on the prospect -of victory, and portrayed the ultimate moment -of triumph that would be theirs, if only they -stood steadfast, a wave of enthusiasm surged -through the audience, and they burst into wild -cheers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Remember, fellow-workmen,” he went on, -“that we have fought before. Remember that we -have suffered before. And remember that we have -won before.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How many are there of you who can look back -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>to the famous strike of ten years ago? Do you not -remember how, for two months, we fought with unbroken -ranks, and after privation and distress far -beyond what we are passing through to-day, triumphed -over our enemies and won a glorious victory? -It was but a pittance that we were striking -for, but the life of our union was at stake. With -one exception, not a man faltered. The story of -our sufferings only God remembers! But we bore -them without a murmur, without complaint. There -was one dastard—one traitor, recreant to his oath—but -we triumphed in spite of him. Oh, my fellow-workers, -let us——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But now a mist gathered before my eyes; the -sound of his voice died away, and all that assemblage -faded from my sight.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The speaker’s words had awakened in my mind -the memory of Urim and Thummim; all else was -instantly forgotten.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Urim was a doll that had lost both legs and an -arm, but its cheeks, when I first saw it, were still -pink, and, in spite of its misfortunes, it wore a smile -that never faded. Thummim was also a doll, somewhat -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>more rugged than Urim, but gloomy and -frowning, in spite of its state of preservation. -Koppel and Rebecca agreed that Urim was by far -the more interesting of the two, but the two had -come into the household together, and to discard -Thummim was altogether out of the question.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Koppel was a cloakmaker, and it was during the -big strike that I first met him. Of all the members -of that big trades-union he alone had continued to -work when the strike was declared, and they all -cursed him. Pleading and threats alike were of no -avail to induce him to leave the shop; for the paltry -pittance that he could earn he abandoned his union -and violated his oath of affiliation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At every meeting he was denounced, his name -was hissed, he was an outcast among his kind.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When I tapped upon his door there was no response. -I opened it and beheld a child with raven -hair, so busily occupied with undressing a doll that -she did not look up until I asked:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Is Mr. Koppel in?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She turned with a start and gazed at me in astonishment. -Her big, brown eyes were opened -wide at the apparition of a stranger, yet she did -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>not seem at all alarmed. After a moment’s hesitation—the -door was still open—she approached me -and held out the doll.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Urim!” she said. I took it, and with a happy -smile she ran to a corner of the room, where, from -under a table, she dragged another doll.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“T’ummim!” she said, holding it out to me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Koppel entered the room. He knew me, -although I had never seen him before, and readily -guessed the object of my errand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are from the newspaper,” he said. “You -want to know why I did not strike.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the lamplight fell upon his countenance -I saw that he was a miserable-looking creature, -servile in his manner, and repulsive to the eye. He -did not appear to be very strong, and the climb of -the stairs seemed to have exhausted him. He sat -down, and the girl climbed upon his knee. She -threw her arm around his neck, and, looking up at -me with a pretty smile, said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Urim—T’ummim—mine!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Koppel stroked her head, and a look of deep love -came into his eyes, and then I began to understand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She has no mother,” he said. “I must pay a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>woman to give her food. I—I can’t strike—can -I?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>One of the dolls slipped from my hand and fell -to the floor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Urim!” cried the little one, slipping hastily -from her father’s knee to pick it up. Tenderly she -examined the doll’s head; it was unscathed. Then -she looked up at me and held out her arms, and her -mouth formed into a rosebud. It was a charming -picture, altogether out of place—naïve, picturesque, -utterly delightful.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You must go to bed,” said her father, sternly. -“The foolish thing wants you to kiss her.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>We became friends—Koppel, Rebecca, Urim, -Thummim, and I.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I was reading the Pentateuch aloud one -night,” explained Koppel, “and she caught the -words Urim and Thummim. They pleased her, and -she has not forgotten them.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I have not said that Rebecca was pretty. She -was more than pretty; there was a light in her baby -face that bespoke a glorious womanhood. There -was a quiet dignity in her baby manners that can -be found only among the children of the Orient. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>She was a winsome child, and during the day, when -her father was at work, the children from far and -near would come to make a pet of her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The strike was at an end, and Koppel was discharged. -When I came to the house a few days -later Rebecca was eating a piece of dry bread, saving -a few crumbs for Urim and Thummim. Koppel, -in gloomy silence, was watching her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She is not well,” he said. “She has had -nothing to eat but bread for three days. I must -send her to an institution.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The next morning the doctor was there, prescribing -for her in a perfunctory way, for it was -merely a charity case. She smiled feebly when she -saw me, and handed me a doll that lay beside her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s Thummim,” I said. “Won’t you give me -Urim?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She shook her head and smiled. She was holding -Urim against her breast.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>It happened ten years ago, and it seems but -yesterday. The day was warm and sultry—almost -as close as this crowded hall. The streets of the -Ghetto were filled with the market throng, and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>air hummed with the music of life. The whole -picture rises clearly, now—as clearly as the platform -from which the enthusiastic speaker’s voice -resounds through the hall.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A white hearse stands before the house. The -driver, unaided, bears a tiny coffin out of the -gloomy hallway into the bright sunshine. The -group of idlers make way for him, and look on with -curiosity, as he deposits his burden within the -hearse.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There are no carriages. There are no flowers. -Koppel walks slowly out of the house, his eyes -fastened upon the sidewalk, his lips moving as if -he were muttering to himself. In his hand he carries -two broken dolls. Without looking to right or -left, he climbs beside the driver, and the hearse -rattles down the street.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I mounted the stairs to his home, and found -everything as it had been when I was there last—everything -save Koppel and Rebecca, and Urim and -Thummim, and these I never saw again.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span> - <h2 class='c005'>A YIDDISH IDYLL</h2> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c017'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Die Liebe ist eine alte Geschichte.</span></i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>In German they call it “Die Liebe.” The -French, as every school-girl knows, call it -“L’Amour.” It is known to the Spanish and the -Italians, and, unless I am greatly mistaken, it was -known even in Ur of the Chaldeans, the city that -was lost before the dawn of ancient Greece.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The sky has sung of it, the bright stars have -sung of it, the birds and the flowers and the green -meadows have sung of it. And far from the brightness -and the sunshine of the world I can lead you -to a dark room where, night and day, the air is -filled with the whirring and buzzing and droning -and humming of sewing machines, and if you listen -intently you can hear the song they sing: “Love! -Love! Love!”</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c018'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Die Liebe ist eine alte Geschichte.</span></i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It is a foolish song, and somehow or other it has -become sadly entangled with the story of Erzik and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>Sarah, which is a foolish story that has neither -beginning nor end. Nor has it a plot or a meaning -or anything at all, for that matter, save the melody -of spring and the perfume of flowers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>You see, Sarah’s eyes were brown and Erzik’s -were blue, and they sat side by side in the sweatshop -where the sewing machines whirred and -buzzed and droned and hummed. And side by -side they had sat for almost a year, speaking -hardly a dozen words a day, for they are silent -people, those Eastern Jews, and each time that -Sarah looked up she could see that Erzik’s eyes -were blue, and she saw a light in them that brought -the blood to her cheeks and filled her with a strange -joy and a resolve not to look up again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And Erzik, wondering at the gladness in his -heart, would smile, whereat the sweater would -frown, and the machines would whirr and buzz and -drone and hum more briskly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was the fault of the black thread—or was it -the white thread? One of them, at least, had become -entangled in the bobbin of Sarah’s sewing -machine, and in disentangling it the needle’s point -pierced her skin, drawing—a tiny drop of blood. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>Erzik turned pale, and tearing a strip from his -handkerchief—a piece of extravagance which exasperated -the sweater beyond all bounds—hastened -to bind it around the wound. Then Sarah laughed, -and Erzik laughed, too, and of course he must hold -the finger close to his eyes to adjust the bandage, -and then, before the whole room, he kissed her -hand. Then she slapped him upon one cheek, -whereupon he quickly offered the other, and they -laughed, and all the room laughed, save Esther, -whose face was always white and pinched.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Is it not a foolish story? That very night Erzik -told Sarah that he loved her, and she cried and told -him she loved him, and then he cried, and they both -were happy. And on the next day they told the -sweater that they were soon going to be married, -which did not interest him at all.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was gossip for half a day, and then it fell -into the natural order of things. The machines -went on whirring and buzzing and droning and -humming, and Erzik and Sarah frequently looked -up from their work and gazed smilingly into each -other’s eyes. Of this they never tired, and through -the spring their love grew stronger and deeper, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>the machines in the room never ceased to sing of it; -even the sparrows that perched upon the telegraph -wires close by the windows chirped it all day -long.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Esther grew whiter and whiter, and her face became -more and more pinched. And one day she -was not in her place. But neither Erzik nor Sarah -missed her. Another day and another, she was -absent, and on the following day they buried her. -The rabbi brought a letter to Erzik.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She said it was for your wedding.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Carefully folded in a clean sheet of note paper -lay three double eagles; it was Esther’s fortune.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c018'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Die Liebe ist eine alte Geschichte.</span></i></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Erzik and Sarah have been married a year, and -they still sit side by side in the sweatshop. Spring -has come again, and the sewing machines whirr and -buzz and drone and hum, and through it all you -can hear that foolish old song. When they look -up from their work and their eyes meet, they smile. -They are content with their lot in life, and they -love each other.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The story runs in my head like an old song, and -when the sky is blue, and the birds sing, the melody -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>is sweet beyond all words. Sometimes, when the -sky is grey and the air is heavy with a coming -storm, it seems as if there is a note of sadness in -the song, as if a heart were crying. But the sunshine -makes it right again.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE STORY OF SARAI</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>It was the idle hour of the mart, and the venders -of Hester Street were busy brushing away the flies. -Mother Politsky had arranged her patriarchal-looking -fish for at least the twentieth time, and was -wondering whether it might not be better to take -them home than to wait another hour in the hope -of a chance customer being attracted to her stand. -Suddenly a shadow fell across the fish. She looked -up and beheld a figure that looked for all the world -as if it had just stepped out of the pages of the -Pentateuch. The venerable grey beard, the strong -aquiline nose, the grave blue eyes, and, above all, -the air of unutterable wisdom, completed a picture -of one of Israel’s prophets.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“God be with the Herr Rabbi!” greeted Mother -Politsky.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi poked a patriarchal finger into the -fish, and grunted in approbation of their firmness.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>“Are they fresh?” he asked, giving no heed to -her salutation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They were swimming in the sea this very day, -Herr Rabbi. They could not be fresher if they -were alive. And the price is—oh, you’ll laugh -at me when I tell you—only twelve cents a -pound.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi laughed, displaying fine, wide teeth.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come, come, my good mother. Tell me without -joking what they cost. This big one, and that -little one over there.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But, Herr Rabbi, you surely cannot mean that -that is too much! Well, well—an old friend—eleven -cents, we’ll say. Will you take the big one -or the little one?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi was still smiling.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My dear mother, you remind me of Sarai.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And who was she?” asked Mother Politsky -with interest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Sarai was the beautiful daughter of the -famous Rabbiner Emanuel ben Achad, who lived -many hundreds of years ago. She was famed for -her beauty, and likewise for her exceeding shrewdness. -Yes, Sarai was very, very clever.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>“And I remind you of her? Well, well. What -a beautiful thing it is to be a rabbi and know so -much about the past! Come, now, I’ll say ten -cents, and you can have your choice. Shall I wrap -up the big——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“This Sarai,” the rabbi went on, “had many -lovers, but of them all she liked only two. One of -these was the favourite of her father; the other -was a poor but handsome youth who was apprenticed -to a scribe. For a long time Sarai hesitated -between the two. Each was handsome, each was -a devoted lover, each was gifted with no ordinary -intelligence, and each was brave. Yet she was undecided -upon which to bestow her heart and her -hand.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi had picked up the big fish, and now -paused to sniff at it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And what did she do?” asked Mother Politsky.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ten cents?” said the rabbi, and then, with a -sigh, he laid down the fish, as if it were hopelessly -beyond his reach.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nine, then, and take it, but what did Sarai -do?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>The rabbi looked long and intently at the fish, -and then, shaking his head sadly, resumed his narrative.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Sarai pondered over the matter for many, -many weeks, and finally decided to put them to a -test. Now the name of her father’s favourite was -Ezra, while the poor youth was called Joseph. -‘Father,’ she said one day, ‘what is the most difficult -task that a man can be put to?’ ‘The most -difficult thing that I know of,’ her father promptly -replied, ‘is to grasp the real meaning of the Talmud.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Thereupon Sarai called Ezra and Joseph before -her, and said to them: ‘He that brings to me -the real meaning of the Talmud shall have my -hand.’ Was that not clever of her?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes! Yes! But who brought the true answer?” -asked Mother Politsky, with breathless interest. -The rabbi was looking longingly at the -fish.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How much did you say?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Eight cents, eight cents. I don’t want any -profit, but who——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Neither of the young men,” the rabbi went on, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>with his eyes still upon the fish, “knew anything -about the Talmud, but Joseph, who was well versed -in Hebrew, began at once to study it, wherein he -had the advantage over Ezra, who knew not a word -of Hebrew.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Poor Ezra!” murmured Mother Politsky.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But Ezra was a shrewd young man, and, without -wasting any time upon studying, he went -straight to Sarai’s father and said to him: ‘Rabbi, -you are the greatest scholar of the world to-day. -Can you tell me the real meaning of the Talmud?’”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Poor Joseph!” murmured Mother Politsky.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘My son,’ said Rabbi ben Achad, ‘all the wisdom -of the human race since the days of Moses has -not been able to answer that question!’”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi had taken up the big fish and the small -one, and was carefully balancing them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Eight, you say. I know a place where I can -get them——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Seven, then. And Joseph?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“——for six.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Seven is the lowest. But Jo——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi turned to move away.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>“All right. Six cents. But finish the story. -What did Joseph do?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Joseph studied many years and came to the -same conclusion. I’ll take the small one.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But which of them married Sarai?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The story does not say. You’re sure it is -fresh?”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE AMERICANISATION OF SHADRACH COHEN</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>There is no set rule for the turning of the -worm; most worms, however, turn unexpectedly. -It was so with Shadrach Cohen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He had two sons. One was named Abel and -the other Gottlieb. They had left Russia five -years before their father, had opened a store on -Hester Street with the money he had given them. -For reasons that only business men would understand -they conducted the store in their father’s -name—and, when the business began to prosper -and they saw an opportunity of investing further -capital in it to good advantage, they wrote to their -dear father to come to this country.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We have a nice home for you here,” they -wrote. “We will live happily together.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Shadrach came. With him he brought Marta, -the serving-woman who had nursed his wife until -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>she died, and whom, for his wife’s sake, he had -taken into the household. When the ship landed -he was met by two dapper-looking young men, -each of whom wore a flaring necktie with a -diamond in it. It took him some time to realise -that these were his two sons. Abel and Gottlieb -promptly threw their arms around his neck and -welcomed him to the new land. Behind his head -they looked at each other in dismay. In the course -of five years they had forgotten that their father -wore a gaberdine—the loose, baglike garment of -the Russian Ghetto—and had a long, straggling -grey beard and ringlets that came down over his -ears—that, in short, he was a perfect type of the -immigrant whose appearance they had so frequently -ridiculed. Abel and Gottlieb were proud of -the fact that they had become Americanised. And -they frowned at Marta.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come, father,” they said. “Let us go to a -barber, who will trim your beard and make you look -more like an American. Then we will take you -home with us.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Shadrach looked from one to the other in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>“My beard?” he said; “what is the matter with -my beard?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“In this city,” they explained to him, “no one -wears a beard like yours except the newly landed, -Russian Jews.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Shadrach’s lips shut tightly for a moment. -Then he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then I will keep my beard as it is. I am a -newly landed Russian Jew.” His sons clinched -their fists behind their backs and smiled at him -amiably. After all, he held the purse-strings. It -was best to humour him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What shall we do with Marta?” they asked. -“We have a servant. We will not need two.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Marta,” said the old man, “stays with us. Let -the other servant go. Come, take me home. I am -getting hungry.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They took him home, where they had prepared a -feast for him. When he bade Marta sit beside him -at the table Abel and Gottlieb promptly turned -and looked out of the window. They felt that -they could not conceal their feelings. The feast -was a dismal affair. Shadrach was racking his -brains to find some explanation that would account -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>for the change that had come over his sons. They -had never been demonstrative in their affection for -him, and he had not looked for an effusive greeting. -But he realised immediately that there was -a wall between him and his sons; some change had -occurred; he was distressed and puzzled. When -the meal was over Shadrach donned his praying -cap and began to recite the grace after meals. -Abel and Gottlieb looked at each other in consternation. -Would they have to go through this at -every meal? Better—far better—to risk their -father’s displeasure and acquaint him with the -truth at once. When it came to the response Shadrach -looked inquiringly at his sons. It was Abel -who explained the matter:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We—er—have grown out of—er—that is—er—done -away with—er—sort of fallen into the -habit, don’t you know, of leaving out the prayer at -meals. It’s not quite American!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Shadrach looked from one to the other. Then, -bowing his head, he went on with his prayer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My sons,” he said, when the table had been -cleared. “It is wrong to omit the prayer after -meals. It is part of your religion. I do not know -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>anything about this America or its customs. But -religion is the worship of Jehovah, who has chosen -us as His children on earth, and that same Jehovah -rules supreme over America even as He does -over the country that you came from.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gottlieb promptly changed the subject by explaining -to him how badly they needed more money -in their business. Shadrach listened patiently for -a while, then said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am tired after my long journey. I do not -understand this business that you are talking -about. But you may have whatever money you -need. After all, I have no one but you two.” -He looked at them fondly. Then his glance -fell upon the serving-woman, and he added, -quickly:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And Marta.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Thank God,” said Gottlieb, when their father -had retired, “he does not intend to be stingy.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, he is all right,” answered Abel. “After -he gets used to things he will become Americanised -like us.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>To their chagrin, however, they began to realise, -after a few months, that their father was clinging -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>to the habits and customs of his old life with a -tenacity that filled them with despair. The more -they urged him to abandon his ways the more -eager he seemed to become to cling to them. He -seemed to take no interest in their business affairs, -but he responded, almost cheerfully, to all their -requests for money. He began to feel that this, -after all, was the only bond between him and his -sons. And when they had pocketed the money, -they would shake their heads and sigh.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ah, father, if you would only not insist upon -being so old-fashioned!” Abel would say.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And let us fix you up a bit,” Gottlieb would -chime in.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And become more progressive—like the other -men of your age in this country.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And wear your beard shorter and trimmed -differently.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And learn to speak English.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Shadrach never lost his temper; never upbraided -them. He would look from one to the other and -keep his lips tightly pressed together. And when -they had gone he would look at Marta and would -say:</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>“Tell me what you think, Marta. Tell me -what you think.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is not proper for me to interfere between -father and sons,” Marta would say. And Shadrach -could never induce her to tell him what she -thought. But he could perceive a gleam in her -eyes and observed a certain nervous vigour in the -way she cleaned the pots and pans for hours after -these talks, that fell soothingly upon his perturbed -spirit.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>As we remarked before, there is no rule for the -turning of the worm. Some worms, however, turn -with a crash. It was so with Shadrach Cohen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gottlieb informed his father that he contemplated -getting married.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She is very beautiful,” he said. “The affair -is all in the hands of the Shadchen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>His father’s face lit up with pleasure.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Gottlieb,” he said, holding out his hand, “God -bless you! It’s the very best thing you could do. -Marta, bring me my hat and coat. Come, Gottlieb. -Take me to see her. I cannot wait a moment. -I want to see my future daughter-in-law at once. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>How happy your mother would be if she were alive -to-day!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gottlieb turned red and hung back.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I think, father,” he said, “you had better not -go just yet. Let us wait a few days until the -Shadchen has made all the arrangements. She is -an American girl. She—she won’t—er—understand -your ways—don’t you know? And it may -spoil everything.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Crash! Marta had dropped an iron pot that she -was cleaning. Shadrach was red in the face with -suppressed rage.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So!” he said. “It has come to this. You -are ashamed of your father!” Then he turned to -the old servant:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Marta,” he said, “to-morrow we become Americanised—you -and I.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was an intonation in his voice that alarmed -his son.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are not angry——” he began, but with a -fierce gesture his father cut him short.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not another word. To bed! Go to bed at -once.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gottlieb was dumbfounded. With open mouth -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>he stared at his father. He had not heard that -tone since he was a little boy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But, father——” he began.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not a word. Do you hear me? Not a word -will I listen to. In five minutes if you are not in -bed you go out of this house. Remember, this is -my house.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he turned to Abel. Abel was calmly smoking -a cigar.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Throw that cigar away,” his father commanded, -sternly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Abel gasped and looked at his father in dismay.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Marta, take that cigar out of his mouth and -throw it into the fire. If he objects he goes out -of the house.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>With a smile of intense delight Marta plucked -the cigar from Abel’s unresisting lips, and incidentally -trod heavily upon his toes. Shadrach -gazed long and earnestly at his sons.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“To-morrow, my sons,” he said, slowly, “you -will begin to lead a new life.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the morning Abel and Gottlieb, full of dread -forebodings, left the house as hastily as they could. -They wanted to get to the store to talk matters -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>over. They had hardly entered the place, however, -when the figure of their father loomed up in the -doorway. He had never been in the place before. -He looked around him with great satisfaction at -the many evidences of prosperity which the place -presented. When he beheld the name “Shadrach -Cohen, Proprietor” over the door he chuckled. -Ere his sons had recovered from the shock of his -appearance a pale-faced clerk, smoking a cigarette, -approached Shadrach, and in a sharp tone -asked:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, sir, what do you want?” Shadrach -looked at him with considerable curiosity. Was he -Americanised, too? The young man frowned impatiently.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come, come! I can’t stand here all day. Do -you want anything?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Shadrach smiled and turned to his sons.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Send him away at once. I don’t want that -kind of young man in my place.” Then turning -to the young man, upon whom the light of -revelation had quickly dawned, he said, sternly:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Young man, whenever you address a person -who is older than you, do it respectfully. Honour -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>your father and your mother. Now go away as -fast as you can. I don’t like you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But, father,” interposed Gottlieb, “we must -have someone to do his work.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Dear me,” said Shadrach, “is that so? Then, -for the present, you will do it. And that young -man over there—what does he do?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He is also a salesman.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Let him go. Abel will take his place.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But, father, who is to manage the store? Who -will see that the work is properly done?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I will,” said the father. “Now, let us have no -more talking. Get to work.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Crestfallen, miserable, and crushed in spirit, Abel -and Gottlieb began their humble work while their -father entered upon the task of familiarising himself -with the details of the business. And even -before the day’s work was done he came to his sons -with a frown of intense disgust.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Bah!” he exclaimed. “It is just as I expected. -You have both been making as complete -a mess of this business as you could without ruining -it. What you both lack is sense. If becoming -Americanised means becoming stupid, I must -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>congratulate you upon the thoroughness of your -work. To-morrow I shall hire a manager to run -this store. He will arrange your hours of work. -He will also pay you what you are worth. Not a -cent more. How late have you been keeping this -store open?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Until six o’clock,” said Abel.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“H’m! Well, beginning to-day, you both will -stay here until eight o’clock. Then one of you -can go. The other will stay until ten. You can -take turns. I will have Marta send you some supper.”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>To the amazement of Abel and Gottlieb the business -of Shadrach Cohen began to grow. Slowly -it dawned upon them that in the mercantile realm -they were as children compared with their father. -His was the true money-maker spirit; there was -something wonderful in the swiftness with which -he grasped the most intricate phases of trade; and -where experience failed him some instinct seemed -to guide him aright. And gradually, as the business -of Shadrach Cohen increased, and even the -sons saw vistas of prosperity beyond their wildest -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>dreams, they began to look upon their father with -increasing respect. What they had refused to the -integrity of his character, to the nobility of his -heart, they promptly yielded to the shrewdness of -his brain. The sons of Shadrach Cohen became -proud of their father. He, too, was slowly undergoing -a change. A new life was unfolding itself -before his eyes, he became broader-minded, more -tolerant, and, above all, more flexible in his tenets. -Contact with the outer world had quickly impressed -him with the vast differences between his present -surroundings and his old life in Russia. The -charm of American life, of liberty, of democracy, -appealed to him strongly. As the field of his business -operations widened he came more and more in -contact with American business men, from whom he -learned many things—principally the faculty of -adaptability. And as his sons began to perceive -that all these business men whom, in former days, -they had looked upon with feelings akin to reverence, -seemed to show to their father an amount of -deference and respect which they had never evinced -toward the sons, their admiration for their father -increased.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>And yet it was the same Shadrach Cohen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>From that explosive moment when he had rebelled -against his sons he demanded from them -implicit obedience and profound respect. Upon -that point he was stern and unyielding. Moreover, -he insisted upon a strict observance of every -tenet of their religion. This, at first, was the bitterest -pill of all. But they soon became accustomed -to it. When life is light and free from care, religion -is quick to fly; but when the sky grows dark -and life becomes earnest, and we feel its burden -growing heavy upon our shoulders, then we welcome -the consolation that religion brings, and we -cling to it. And Shadrach Cohen had taught his -sons that life was earnest. They were earning -their bread by the sweat of their brow. No prisoner, -with chain and ball, was subjected to closer -supervision by his keeper than were Gottlieb and -Abel.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You have been living upon my charity,” their -father said to them: “I will teach you how to earn -your own living.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And he taught them. And with the lesson they -learned many things; learned the value of discipline, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>learned the beauty of filial reverence, -learned the severe joy of the earnest life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>One day Gottlieb said to his father:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“May I bring Miriam to supper to-night? I -am anxious that you should see her.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Shadrach turned his face away so that Gottlieb -might not see the joy that beamed in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, my son,” he answered. “I, too, am -anxious to see if she is worthy of you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Miriam came, and in a stiff, embarrassed manner -Gottlieb presented her to his father. The girl -looked in surprise at the venerable figure that stood -before her—a picture of a patriarch from the Pentateuch, -with a long, straggling beard, and ringlets -of hair falling over the ears, and clad in the long -gaberdine of the Russian Ghettos. And she saw -a pair of grey eyes bent keenly upon her—eyes of -shrewdness, but soft and tender as a woman’s—the -eyes of a strong man with a kind heart. Impulsively -she ran toward him and seized his hands. -And, with a smile upon her lips, she said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Will you not give me your blessing?”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>When the evening meal had ended, Shadrach -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>donned his praying cap, and with bowed head intoned -the grace after meals:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We will bless Him from whose wealth we have -eaten!” And in fervent tones rose from Gottlieb’s -lips the response:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Blessed be He!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span> - <h2 class='c005'>HANNUKAH LIGHTS</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>Somewhere in transit he had lost all his letters, -papers, credentials, cards—all belongings, in fact, -that might have established his identity. He said -he was David Parnes, and that he had come from -Pesth. And, as he was tall and straight, with fine -black eyes and curling black hair, a somewhat dashing -presence, and the most charming manners, he -soon made friends, particularly among the women, -for, in Houston Street, as elsewhere, the fair sex -rarely looks behind a pleasing personality for -credentials of character.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Eulie, the waitress and maid-of-all-work in -Weiss’s coffee house, felt the blood surge to her -face when first she beheld him, and when, for the -first time, he gave her <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Trinkgeld</span></i> and a smile, all -the blood rushed back to her heart. After that -Eulie was his slave. All day long she waited for -him to come. When he had gone the place seemed -dark, and the music of the gipsy band grated upon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>her. While he was there—usually sitting alone -and sipping coffee and staring into vacancy like -a man whose mind is busy with many schemes—her -heart beat faster, and life seemed glad. Eulie was -plain—painfully plain—but there was a charm -about her that had won the admiration of many -of the patrons of the place, some of whom had -even offered her marriage. But she had only -laughed, and had declared that she would never -marry.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Sometimes these incidents came to the ear of -Esther, the daughter of the proprietor, and made -her heart burn; for Esther was fair to look upon, -and yet had reached and passed her twentieth year -without a single offer of marriage. With all her -beauty the girl was absolutely devoid of charm; -there was something even in the tone of her voice -that repelled men; probably a reflection of her arrogance -and selfishness. Then, one day, Eulie beheld -her talking to David; saw that her face was -animated, and that David’s eyes were fastened intently -upon her. In Esther’s eyes she read that -story which, between woman and woman, is an open -book. When her work was finished that night Eulie -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>hastened to her room, and, throwing herself upon -the bed, burst into a flood of weeping.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The affair progressed rapidly. There were -times when Eulie, after serving him with coffee, -would stand silently behind David, gazing upon -him intently, yearning to throw her arms around -that curly head and cry, “I love you! I am your -slave!” But these became rarer and rarer, for -Esther demanded more and more of his presence, -and it was seldom that he sat alone in the coffee -house. Eulie had never seen him manifest any of -those lover-like demonstrations toward Esther that -might have been expected under the circumstances, -but she attributed this to his pride. Probably, -she thought, when they were alone, beyond the -reach of prying eyes, he kissed her and caressed -her to her heart’s content. The thought of it wore -on her spirit. And when, one day, Esther told her -that they were to be married at the end of a month -Eulie turned pale and trembled, and then hurried -to her room.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A few days after this announcement had been -publicly made, and congratulations had begun to -pour in from the many patrons of the establishment, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>who had known Esther from childhood, Eulie -observed a change in David’s demeanour. He -seemed suddenly to have become worried. He -would come to the coffee house late at night, after -Esther had retired, and sit alone over his coffee, -brooding. Eulie’s duties permitted her to leave -at nine o’clock, but if David had not come at that -hour, she continued to work, even until midnight, -the closing time, in the hope that she would see him -enter. He rarely spoke to her, rarely noticed her, -in fact, but Eulie, in her heart, had established an -intimacy between them. An intimacy? Rather a -world of love and devotion, in which, alas! she lived -alone with a shadow.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She was quick to see the change that had come -over him, and she longed to speak to him—to implore -him to confide in her. Was it money? She -had led a frugal life, and had saved the greater -part of her earnings for years. She would not -trust her pittance to the banks. It was all in a -trunk in her room, and he was welcome to it. Was -it service that he needed? She was a slave ready -to do his bidding. The tears came into her eyes -to see that face upon which light and laughter sat -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>so gracefully now cast down with gloom. But -David worried on in silence, and left the place without -a word.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, for several days, he did not come at all. -Esther told her that he had been called out of town -on business.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did—did he not look worried when last you -saw him?” Eulie asked, timidly. Esther’s eyes -opened in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why, no. I did not notice that he looked any -different.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Eulie sighed. That night there came to one of -her tables a brisk, sharp-eyed little man, whose -manner and accent betokened a new arrival from -Hungary. He bowed politely to Eulie, praised her -skill in waiting upon him, and complimented her -upon her hair, which she wore flat upon her head -after the fashion of the peasant girls of Hungary. -He gave her liberal <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Trinkgeld</span></i>, and bowed courteously -when he departed. The next evening he returned -and greeted her as a newly made acquaintance. -They chatted pleasantly a while—he had -much news from the mother country that interested -her—and then, quite by-the-way—Did she happen -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>to know a young man, tall and straight—quite -good-looking, black eyes and curling hair, a very -pleasant chap, extremely popular with the girls? -A friend had told him that he would find this young -man somewhere in the Hungarian colony—did she -know anyone who answered that description? His -eyes were turned from her—he was watching the -gipsies playing—it was all quite casual.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It is said that love creates a sixth sense. In a -flash Eulie’s whole nature shrank from this man, -and stood at arms ready for battle. This was no -friend in search of a boon companion. This was -an enemy—a mortal enemy of David. She felt -it, knew it as positively as if she had seen him fly at -David’s throat. Fortunately the man had not observed -the pallor that overspread her countenance.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No. I do not remember having seen such a -man. He never comes here, or I would have remembered -him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>That night was the beginning of the feast of -Hanukkah—the only feast at which the penitential -psalms are omitted, lest they might mar the -joyfulness of the celebration. Esther was away, -and it was Eulie’s duty to light the candles in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>living room overhead. The sun was fast sinking, -but the light of day still lingered in the sky. Eulie -felt that it might be sacrilegious to hasten so holy -a function, but a sudden nervous dread had come -over her, and there was fear in her heart.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I will light the candles now,” she said. “Then -I will wait outside in the street, and if he comes I -will warn him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Swiftly, lightly, she sped up the stairs to the -living room. The door was open, and the light -from the hall lamp shone dimly into the furthest -corner, where, with his back turned to the door, -stood, or rather knelt, David Parnes before a desk -in which the coffee house proprietor kept his money. -Eulie recoiled, shocked, horrified. Then, swift as -a lightning stroke came full revelation. He was a -thief! She had always suspected something like -that. And she loved him—adored him more than -ever at this moment! Eulie was an honest girl, an -honest peasant girl, descended from a long line of -peasants, all as honest as the day. But the world -was against the man she loved. Honesty? To the -winds with honesty! With a rush she was at his -side.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>“Listen!” she whispered, excitedly. “There is -the key. Over there on the wall. The money is in -the top drawer. Take it and fly. There is a man -below from Hungary looking for you. I told him -you did not come here. You can get away before -he finds you. I will never tell. I swear I will never -tell. Quick! You must fly!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The young man had turned quickly when she -entered, but after that he had not moved. He was -still upon one knee. Had a thunderbolt fallen from -the ceiling he could not have been more astonished. -He looked at Eulie in bewilderment.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Wait!” she cried. “I will be back in a second. -Open the desk and take all the money, and then I -will be back.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It seemed to him but an instant—Eulie had gone -and had returned. He was still kneeling—almost -petrified with amazement. Eulie held out an old, -stained, leather pocketbook.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is all mine,” she whispered. “Take it. -Run! You must not wait!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Slowly he rose to his feet. Once or twice he -passed his hand over his eyes as if he feared he was -dreaming.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>“Eulie?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was a world of incredulity, of bewilderment, -of questioning in his voice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, do not stay!” cried the poor girl. “They -will be looking for you. Go, before it is too late. -Go far away. They will never find you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I do not understand,” he said, slowly. “What -does it mean?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A sudden weakness overcame Eulie, and she burst -into tears. He advanced toward her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why are you doing this?” he asked. Eulie -could not speak. Her frame was convulsed with sobbing; -the tears were streaming down her cheeks; -David, open-mouthed, stood gazing at her. The -pocketbook had fallen from her hand, and a small -heap of bank notes had slipped from it. David -looked at them; then at her. Slowly he advanced -to where she stood. As gently as he could he drew -her hands from her face and turned her head -toward the light in the hall.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Eulie?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The blood coursed to her cheeks. Her gaze fell. -She tore herself from his clasp.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“For God’s sake, go!” she cried. He restored -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>the money to the pocketbook and placed it in her -hands. Then he started toward the door.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You will not take it?” she asked, piteously. -“It is all mine. I give it to you freely. Borrow -it if you like. Some day you can send it back.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He shook his head, stood irresolute for a moment, -then returned to her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Eulie,” he whispered. “My mother is dead. -But in heaven she is blessing you!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he kissed her upon the forehead and walked -determinedly out of the room. Eulie stood swaying -to and fro, for a moment, then tottered and fell -to the floor. David stood on the stairs a full minute, -breathing heavily, like a man who has been -running. Then his teeth clicked tightly together, -he drew a long breath, walked briskly down the -steps, and strode into the brilliantly lighted coffee -house.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He knew the man at once. He had never seen -him before, but unerring instinct pointed out his -pursuer. He walked straight toward him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“When do we start for Pesth?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man eyed him narrowly, gazed at him -thoughtfully for a moment, then his face lit up.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>“By the next steamer, if you like,” was all he -said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>David nodded.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good,” he said. Then, after a moment’s hesitation:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Will you come upstairs with me for a moment?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Without a word the man accompanied him. -They found Eulie, pale as a ghost, standing at the -mantel, lighting the Hannukah candles. When she -beheld David with his captor, she screamed, and -would have fallen had not David sprung forward -and caught her in his arms.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Listen,” he said, speaking rapidly. “I am -going back. My name is not David Parnes. I will -write in a few days and tell you everything. They -will send me to prison. In two or three years I shall -be free. Then I am coming back for you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He held her in his arms for one brief moment, -kissed her again on the forehead, and was gone. -Then the tears came afresh to Eulie’s eyes. But -through her veins coursed a tumult of joy.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span> - <h2 class='c005'>A SWALLOW-TAILER FOR TWO</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>“Isidore? Bah! Never again do I want dot -name to hear!</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Isidore? A loafer he iss! Sure! Ve vas friends -vunce, unt don’t I know vot a loafer he iss? Ven a -man iss a loafer nobody knows it better as his best -friend.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t you remember by der night uf der two -Purim balls? Vot? No? Yes! Dere vas two -Purim balls by der same night; der one vas across -der street from der odder. Yes. Der one, dot vas -der Montefiore Society. I vas der president. Der -odder, dot vas der Baron Hirsch Literary Atzociation. -Isidore vas der vice-president.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Isidore unt I lived together. Oh, ve vas such -friends! David unt Jonathan dey vas not better -friends as me unt Isidore. Everyt’ing vot Isidore -had could belong also to me. Unt if I had somet’ing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>I always told Isidore dot I had it. I did not -know vot a loafer he vas.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So it comes der day of der Montefiore ball, unt -I ask Izzy if he iss going. ‘No, Moritz,’ he says, -‘I am going by der Baron Hirsch ball.’ ‘But anyway,’ -I says, ‘let us go by der tailor unt hire for -rent our evening-dress swallow-tails.’ ‘Sure,’ he -says. Unt ve vent by der tailor’s. But dot vas -such a busy times dot every tailor ve vent to said -he vas so sorry but he had already hired out for -rent all der swallow-tails vot he had, unt he didn’t -haf no more left. Ve vent from every tailor vot -ve know to every odder tailor. Der last vun he vas -a smart feller. He says: ‘Gents, I got vun suit -left, but it iss der only vun.’ Den Izzy unt me -looked into our faces. Vot could ve do?</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Id iss no use,’ I says, unt Izzy says it vas no -use, unt ve vas just going away, ven der smart -tailor says: ‘Vy don’t you take der suit unt each -take a turn to wear it?’ So Izzy says to me, ‘Moritz, -dot’s a idea. You can wear der suit by der -Montefiore ball, unt I can wear it by der Baron -Hirsch ball. Der dancing vill be all night. You -can have it from nine o’clock until it is elefen -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>o’clock. Dot iss two hours. Den you can excuse -yourself. Den I put on der suit und wear it by der -Baron Hirsch ball from elefen o’clock until id iss -vun o’clock in der morning. Den I excuse myself. -Den, Moritz, you can haf it again by der Montefiore -ball until id iss t’ree o’clock. Dot iss two more -hours, unt if I want it after t’ree o’clock I can haf -it for two hours more.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Say! Dot Izzy iss a great schemer. He has -a brain like a Napoleon. He iss a loafer, but he iss -a smart vun. So, anyvay, ve took der suit. Der -tailor charged us two dollars—oh, he vas a skin!—unt -Izzy unt I said ve would each pay half, unt -ve each gave der tailor a gold watch to keep for -der security uv der suit. Unt den—I remember it -like if it vas yesterday—I looked into Isidore’s -eye unt I said: ‘Isidore, iss it your honest plan to -be fair unt square?’ Because, I vill tell you, der -vas somet’ing in my heart dot vas saying, he vill -play some crooked business! But Isidore held out -his hand unt said, ‘Moritz, you know <em>me</em>!’ Unt I -trusted him!</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So ve went to der room ve lived in unt I put -der suit on. It fitted me fine. I look pretty good in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>a evening swallow-tail unt Isidore says I looked like -a regular aritztocrat.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Be careful, Moritz,’ he says, ‘unt keep der -shirt clean.’ I forgot to tell you dot ve hired a -shirt, too, because it vas cheaper as two shirts. -‘Come, Moritz,’ he says, ‘let us go!’ ‘Us!’ I -says, astonished. ‘Are you coming by der Montefiore -ball, too?’ ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘You are der -president, unt you can get me in without a ticket. -I don’t have to wear a swallow-tail evening dresser -because I ain’d a member.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It took me only a second to t’ink der matter -over. I am such a qvick t’inker. If he comes to -my ball, I says to myself, I vill come by his! ‘Sure, -Izzy,’ I says. ‘As my friend you are velcome.’ So -ve vent to der Montefiore ball.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Der moment ve got into der ballroom I seen -vot a nasty disposition Isidore got. ‘Izzy,’ I says, -‘go get acqvainted mit a nice lady, unt dance unt -enjoy yourself unt I vill see you again at elefen -o’clock.’ ‘No, Moritz,’ he says. ‘I vill stick by -you.’ I am a proud man, so I said, very dignified, -‘All right, if you vill have it so.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Unt Isidore stuck. Efry time I looked around -<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>me I seen his eyes keepin’ a look-out on der swallow-tail -evening dress. Such big eyes Isidore had dot -night! ‘Don’t vatch me like dot, Izzy,’ I said. -‘Dey vill t’ink you are a detectif, unt dot I stole -somet’ing.’ Efrytime I drops a leetle tiny bit from -a cigar ashes on my swallow-tail shirt Izzy comes -running up mit a handkerchief unt cleans it off. -Efry time I sits down on a chair Izzy comes up unt -vispers in my ear, ‘Moritz, please don’t get -wrinkles in der swallow-tail. Remember, I got to -wear it next.’ Efry time I took a drink Moritz -comes unt holds der handkerchief under der glass -so dot der beer should not drop on der swallow-tail -shirt. ‘Izzy,’ I says to him, ‘I am astonished.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So a hour vent by unt den comes in Miss -Rabinowitz. Ven I see her I forget all about -Isidore, unt about everyt’ing else. Oh, she is nice! -I says, ‘Miss Rabinowitz, can I haf der pleasure -uv der next dance?’ ‘No,’ she says, ‘I ain’d dancing -to-night because my shoes hurts me. But ve -can haf der pleasure of sidding out der next dance -togedder.’ Den she says to her mamma, ‘Mamma, -I am going to sid out der next dance mit dis gentleman -friend of mine. You can go somevere else unt -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>enjoy yourself.’ Dot gave me a idea. ‘Isidore,’ -I says—Isidore was right on top uv my heels—‘gif -Miss Rabinowitz’s mamma der pleasure -of your company for a half-hour, like a good -friend.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Isidore looks a million daggers in my eye, but -he couldn’t say nodding.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He had to do it. Unt I found a qviet place -where it vas a little dark, unt Miss Rabinowitz sat -close by me unt I vas holding her hand unt I vas -saying to myself, ‘Moritz, dis is der opportunity to -tell her der secret of your life—to ask her if she -vill be yours! Her old man has a big factory unt -owns t’ree houses!’ Unt den I looked up, unt dere -vas Isidore.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘V’y did you leave Mrs. Rabinowitz?’ I asked. -He gafe me a terrible look. ‘Moritz,’ he says, ‘Id -iss elefen o’clock unt der time has come.’ ‘Vot -time?’ asked Miss Rabinowitz. ‘Oh, Moritz knows -vot I mean,’ he says. So I excused myself for a -minute unt I vispered in Izzy’s ear, ‘Izzy,’ I says, -‘if you love me, if you are a friend of mine, if you -vant to do me der greatest favour in der vorld—I -ask you on my knees to gif me a extra half-hour! -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>Dis iss der greatest moment uv my life!’ But -Isidore only shooked his head. ‘Elefen o’clock,’ -he said. ‘Remember der agreement!’ ‘A qvarter -of a hour,’ I begged. I had tears in my eyes. But -Isidore only scraped a spot off my swallow-tail -shirt unt den he said, ‘Moritz, I vill tell you vot -I’ll do. I vouldn’t do dis for nobody else in der, -vorld except my best friend. You can wear der -suit ten minutes longer for fifty cents. Does -dot suit you?’ Vot could I do? I looked at him -mit sorrow. ‘Isidore,’ I said, awful sad, ‘I didn’t -know you could be such a loafer! But you haf der -advantage. I will do it.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He even made me pay der fifty cents cash on -der spot, unt den he vent off to a corner where he -could keep his eyes on der clock unt vatch me at der -same time. Dose fifty cents vas wasted. How -could I ask a lady to marry me mit dem big eyes of -Isidore keeping a sharp watch on der clothes I had -on?</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Id iss no use, Miss Rabinowitz,’ I says. ‘I -had a matter uv terrible importance vot I vanted to -tell you, but my friend iss in great trouble, unt ven -Isidore has troubles in his heart, my heart iss -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>heavy!’ ‘Oh,’ she says, so sveet, ‘you are such a -nobleman! It makes der tears come to my eyes to -hear of such friendships!’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Dot vill show you vot a prize she vas. I hated -to tell her a lie, but vot could I do? So I says I -haf to go out mit Izzy unt get him out of his -trouble, but at der end of two hours I come back. -‘I will wait for you,’ she says. Unt den, mit a -cold, murder eye, I goes to Isidore unt says to him, -‘Come, false friend! I keep der agreement!’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So Isidore dusts off my coat unt says he found -a room upstairs where ve could change der clothes. -Ven ve got to der room I took der swallow-tail evening-dress -coat off, unt der vest off, unt der pants -off, unt der shirt off, unt I says to Isidore, ‘Dere iss -not a spot on dem! I shall expect you to gif dem -back to me in der same condition ven der two hours -iss up. Remember dot!’ Unt den a horrible idea -comes into my head. ‘Vot am I going to wear?’ -I says. ‘I don’t know,’ says Isidore. He had already -put der pants on. ‘Unt I don’t care,’ he -says. ‘But if you vant to put my clothes on, for -friendship’s sake I lend dem to you.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You know how little unt fat dot Isidore iss. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>Unt you see how tall unt skinny I am. But vot -could I do? If I vent home to put on my own -clothes I know it would be good-bye Isidore unt -der swallow-tail evening suit. I would never see -dem again. I couldn’t trust dot false face. ‘Moritz,’ -I says to myself, ‘don’d leave dot swallow-tailer -out uv your sight. No matter how foolish -you look in Isidore’s short pants, put dem on. You -aint a member uv der Baron Hirsch Literary Atzociation. -You don’d care if your appearances iss -against you. Stick to Isidore!’ So I put on his -old suit. My! It vas so shabby after dot fine swallow-tailer! -Unt I felt so foolish! But, anyvay, -dere vas vun satisfaction. Der swallow-tailer didn’t -fit Isidore a bit. He had to roll der pants up in der -bottom. Unt der shirt vouldn’t keep shut in front—he -vas so fat—unt you could see his undershirt. -I nearly laughed—he looked so foolish. But I -didn’t say anyt’ing—nefer again I vould haf no -jokes mit Isidore. Only dot vun night—unt after -dot our friendships vas finished.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So ve vent to der Baron Hirsch’s across der -street. Ven ve got by der door Isidore asked me, -astonished-like, ‘Haf you got a ticket, Moritz?’ -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>‘No,’ I says, ‘but you are der vice-president, unt -you can pass in your friend.’ But Isidore shooked -his head. ‘Der rules,’ he said, ‘uv der Baron -Hirsch Literary Atzociation is different from der -rules uv der Montefiore Society. Efrybody vot -ain’d a member has got to pay.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Say, vasn’t dot a nasty vun, vot? But vot -could I do? It cost me a qvarter, but I paid it. -Unt as soon as ve got in by der ballroom Isidore got -fresh. ‘Moritz,’ he says, ‘ve vill let gone-bys be -gone-bys, unt no monkey business. I vill introduce -you to a nice young lady vot got a rich uncle, unt -you can sit unt talk mit her while I go unt haf a -good time. At vun o’clock sharp I vill come back -unt keep der agreement.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Isidore,’ I says, awful proud, ‘vit your nice -young ladies I vill got nodding to do. But to -show you dot I ain’d no loafer I vill sit out in der -hall unt trust you.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So I took a seat all by myself. My! I felt so -foolish in Izzy’s clothes! Unt Izzy vent inside by -der wine-room, where dey was all drinking beer. -‘Moritz,’ I says to myself, ‘you make a mistake -to haf so much trust in dot false face. Maybe he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>iss getting spots on der shirt. Maybe he is spilling -beer on der swallow-tailer. He iss not der kind uv -a man to take good care vit a evening dresser. -‘Moritz,’ I says it to myself, ‘be suspicious!’ Unt -dot made me so nervous dot I couldn’t sit still. So -I vent unt took a peek into der wine-room.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mein Gott, I nearly vent crazy! Dere vas dot -loafer mit a big beer spot on my shirt in der -front, unt drinking a glass of beer unt all der -foam dropping in big, terrible drops on der pants -uv der swallow-tailer. I vent straight to his face -unt said, ‘Loafer, der agreement is broke. You -haf got spots on it. You are a false vun!’ Unt -den Isidore—loafer vot he iss—punched me vun -right on der nose. Vot could I do? He vas der -commencer. I vas so excited dot I couldn’t say -nodding. I punched him vun back unt den ve -rolled on der floor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ve punched like regular prize-fighters. I done -my best to keep der swallow-tailer clean, unt Izzy -done der best to keep his suit vot I had on clean, -but dere vas a lot of beer on der floor unt ven der -committee come unt put us out in der street—my! -ve looked terrible! But nobody could make no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>more monkey business vit me dat night. ‘Izzy,’ I -says—I vas holding him in der neck—‘take dot -evening dresser off or else gif up all hopes!’ I -vas a desperate character, unt he could read it in -der tone uv my voice. He took der swallow-tailer -off—right out on der sidewalk uv der street. Den -I put it on unt I vas getting all dressed while he -vas standing in his underclothes, trying to insult -me. Unt just ven I got all dressed unt he vas standing -mit der pants in his hands calling me names vot -I didn’t pay no attention to, but vot I vill get revenge -for some time, dere comes up a p’liceman. -Ve both seen him together, but I vas a qvicker -t’inker as Isidore, so I says, ‘Mister P’liceman, -dis man iss calling me names.’ He vas a Irisher, dot -p’liceman, unt he hit Izzy vun mit his club, unt -says, ‘Vot do you mean by comin’ in der street mitout -your clothes on? You are a prisoner!’ So I -says, ‘Good-night, Isidore!’ unt I run across der -street to der Montefiore ball. Dey all looked at -me ven I got in like if dey wanted to talk to me, but -I vas t’inking only uv Miss Rabinowitz. I found -her by her mamma.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Miss Rabinowitz,’ I says, ‘I haf kept my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>word. I promised to come back, unt here I am!’ -She gafe me a look vot nearly broked my heart. -‘You are a drunker,’ she says.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Miss Rabinowitz,’ I says, ‘dem iss hard -words.’ ‘Go away,’ she says. ‘You look like a -loafer. Instead of helping your friend you haf -been drinking.’ Den her mamma gafe me a look -unt says, ‘Drunken loafer, go ‘way from my -daughter or I will call der police.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Vot could I do? As proud as I could I left her. -Den a committee comes up to me unt says, ‘Moritz, -go home. You look sick.’ Dey vas all laughing. -Den somebody says, ‘He smells like a brewery -vagon.’ Vot could I do? I vent home.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Der next morning Isidore comes home. ‘Moritz,’ -he says, ‘you are a fool.’ I gafe him vun -look in his eye. ‘Isidore,’ I says, ‘you are der biggest -loafer I haf efer seen.’ Ve haf never had a conversation -since dot day.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My! Such a loafer!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span> - <h2 class='c005'>DEBORAH</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>Her name was Deborah. When Hazard first -saw her she was sitting on the steps of a tenement -with Berman at her side, Berman’s betrothal ring -on her finger, Berman’s arm around her waist. -“Beauty and the beast!” Hazard murmured as he -stood watching them. He was an artist, and a -search for the picturesque had led him into Hester -Street—where he found it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Presently Hazard crossed the street, and, with a -low bow and an air of modest hesitation that became -him well, begged Berman to present his compliments -to the young lady at his side and to ask -her if she would allow an enthusiastic artist to make -a sketch of her face. Hester Street is extremely -unconventional. Deborah looked up into the blue -eyes of the artist, and, with a faint blush, freed -herself from her companion’s embrace. Then she -smiled and told the artist he could sketch her. In -a twinkling Hazard produced book and pencil. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>While he sketched they chatted together, ignoring -Berman completely, who sat scowling and unhappy. -When the sketch was finished the artist -handed it to Deborah and begged her to keep it. -But would she not come some day to pose for him -in his studio? Her mother or sister or—with a -jerk of his thumb—this sturdy chap at her side -could accompany her. And she would be well -paid. Her face fitted wonderfully into a painting -he was working on, and he had been looking for a -model for weeks. His mother lived at the studio -with him—the young lady would be well cared for—five -or six visits would be sufficient—a really big -painting. Yes. Deborah would go.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Hazard had departed, Deborah turned to -her lover and observed, with disappointment, that -he looked coarse and ill-favoured.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is getting late,” she said. “I am going -in.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why, <i><span lang="de" xml:lang="de">Liebchen</span></i>,” Berman protested. “It is -only eight o’clock!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am very tired. Good-night!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Berman sat alone, gazing at the stars, struggling -vainly to formulate in distinct thoughts the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>depth and profundity of his love for Deborah and -the cause of that mysterious feeling of unrest, of -unhappiness, of portending gloom that had suddenly -come over him. But he was a simple-minded -person, and his brain soon grew weary of this unaccustomed -work. It was easier to fasten his gaze -upon a single star and to marvel how its brightness -and purity reminded him so strongly of Deborah.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the weeks that followed he saw but little of -Deborah, and each time he observed with dismay -that a change had come over the girl. In the -company of her mother she had been visiting -Hazard’s studio regularly, and the only subject -upon which Berman could get her to talk with any -degree of interest was the artist and his work.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, it is a wonderful picture that he is painting!” -she said. “It is the picture of a great -queen, with a man kneeling at her feet, and I am -the queen. I sit with a beautiful fur mantle over -my shoulder, and, would you believe it, before I -have been sitting five minutes I begin to feel as -though I really were a queen. He is a great artist. -Mamma sits looking at the picture that he is painting -hour after hour. It is a wonderful likeness. And -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>his mother is so kind to me. She has given me such -beautiful dresses. And not a day goes by but what -I learn something new and good from her. I am -so ashamed of my ignorance.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Each time I see her,” thought Berman, “she -grows more beautiful. How could anyone help -painting a beautiful picture of her? She is growing -like a flower. She is too good, too sweet, too -beautiful for me!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The blow came swiftly, unexpectedly. She came -to his home while he sat at supper with his parents.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do not blame me,” she said. “I prayed night -after night to God to make me love you, but it -would not come. It is better to find it out before it -is too late. You have been so kind, so good to me -that it breaks my heart. Is it not better to come -to you and to tell the truth?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Berman had turned pale. “Is it the painter?” -he whispered. A flood of colour surged to Deborah’s -cheeks. Her eyes fell before his.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He is a Christian, Deborah—a Christian!” he -murmured, hoarsely. Then Deborah’s colour left -her cheeks, and the tears started to her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I know it! I know it! But——” Then with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>an effort she drew herself up. “It is better that -we should part. Good-bye!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good-bye!” said Berman. And his father -arose and called after the departing figure:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The peace of God go with you!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>With an artist’s eye Hazard had been quick -to perceive the beauty of Deborah, and the possibilities -of its development, and, with an artist’s -temperament, he derived the keenest pleasure from -watching that beauty grow and unfold. Her frequent -presence, the touch of her hand and cheek -as he helped her to pose, her merry laughter, and, -above all, those big, trusting brown eyes in which -he read, as clear as print, her love, her adoration -for himself, all began to have their effect upon -him. And, one day, when they were alone, and -suddenly looking up, he had surprised in her eyes a -look of such tenderness and sweetness that his brain -reeled, he flung his brush angrily to the floor and -cried:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Confound it, Deborah, I can’t marry you!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Deborah, without surprise, without wonderment, -began to cry softly: “I know it! I have always -known it!” she said. And when he saw the tears -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>rolling down her cheeks he sprang to her side and -clasped her in his arms, and whispered words -of love in her ear, and kissed her again and -again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>An old story, is it not? Aye, as old as life, as -old as sin! And always the same—so monotonously -the same. And always so pitiful. It is such a -tempting path; the roses bloom redder here, and -sweeter than anywhere else in the wide world. But -there is always the darkness at the end—the same, -weary darkness—the poor eyes that erstwhile shone -so brightly grow dim in the vain endeavour to -pierce it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Like a flower that has blossomed to full maturity -Deborah began to wilt and fade. Her beauty -quickly vanished—beauty in Hester Street is rarely -durable—Deborah grew paler and paler, thinner -and thinner. To do him full justice Hazard was -greatly distressed. It was a great pity, he -thought, that Deborah had not been born a Christian. -Had she been a Christian he could have married -her without blasting his whole future career. -As it was—Fate had been cruel. Let Hazard have -full justice.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>But it fell like a thunderbolt upon Berman when -Deborah’s mother sent for him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She has been raving for two days, and she -keeps calling your name! Won’t you sit by her -bedside for a while? It may calm her!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>His heart almost stopped beating when he beheld -how frail and fever-worn were the features -that he had loved so well. When he took her hand -in his the touch burned—burned through to his -heart, his brain, his soul.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Berman will not come!” she cried. “He was -kind to me, and I was so cruel. He will not come!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Berman tried to speak, but the words stuck in -his throat. Then, with that sing-song intonation -of those who are delirious with brain fever, Deborah -spoke—it sounded like the chanting of a -dirge: “Ah, he was so cruel! What did it matter -that I was a Jewess! What did it matter that he -was a Christian! I never urged him, because I -loved him so! He said it would ruin his career! -But, oh, he could have done it! We would have -been so happy! Once he made the sign of the Cross -on my cheek. But I told him I would become a -Christian if he wanted me to. What did I care -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>for my religion? I cared for nothing but him! -But he was so cruel! So cruel! So cruel!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was more than blood could stand. With a -cry of anguish Berman fled from the room. In -the dawn of the following day Deborah’s mother, -grey and worn, came out of the tenement. She saw -Berman sitting on the steps. “It is over!” she -said. Berman looked at her and slowly nodded. -“All over!” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Hazard awoke that morning his servant -told him that a strange-looking man wished to see -him in the studio. “A model,” thought Hazard. -“Tell him to wait.” Berman waited. He waited -an hour. Then the Oriental curtains rustled, and -Hazard appeared. He had walked halfway across -the room before he recognised Berman. He recognised -him as the man who sat beside Deborah when -he had first seen her. The man who had his arm -around her waist. The man whom he had referred -to as a sturdy chap—who had, indeed, looked -strong and big on that starry night. And who -now loomed before his eyes in gigantic proportions. -He recognised him—and a sudden chill -struck his heart. Berman walked toward him. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>Without a word, without the faintest warning, -he clutched the artist by the throat, stifling every -sound. The artist struggled, as a mouse struggles -in the grasp of a cat. From his pocket Berman -drew a penknife. He could hold his victim easily -with one hand. He opened the blade with his -teeth. As a man might bend a reed, Berman bent -the artist’s back until his head rested upon his -knee. Then, quickly, he slashed him twice across -the cheek, making the sign of a cross.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You might have married her!” he whispered, -hoarsely. Then he threw the helpless figure from -him and slowly walked out of the room.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The newspapers told next day, how a maniac -had burst into the studio of Hazard, the distinguished -young painter, and without the slightest -provocation had cut him cruelly about the face. -The police were on the slasher’s trail, but Hazard -doubted if he could identify the man again if he -saw him. “It was so unexpected,” he said. To -this day he carries a curious mark on his right -cheek—exactly like a cross.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span> - <h2 class='c005'>AN INTERRUPTION</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>In the story books the tragedies of life work -themselves out to more or less tragic conclusions. -In real life the most tragic tragedies are those that -have no conclusion—that can have no conclusion -until death writes “Finis!” From which one -might argue that many of us would be better off -if we lived in novels. Chertoff, however, lived in -Hester Street, and therefore had to abide by his -destiny.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Chertoff was a hunchback. He had a huge -head and tremendously long arms and features of -waxen pallor. Children who saw him for the first -time would run from him with fright and would -hide in doorways until he had passed. Yet those -who knew him loved him, for under his repellent -exterior throbbed a warm heart, and his nature -was kindly and cheering. In Gurtman’s sweatshop, -where he toiled from dawn to nightfall, he -was loved by all—that is, all save Gurtman—for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>when the day’s task seemed hardest and the click -and roar of the machines chanted the song of -despair that all sweatshop workers know so well, -Chertoff would burst into a lively tune and fill the -room with gladness. Then he would gossip and -tell interesting stories and bandy jests with anyone -in the room who showed the slightest disposition -to contribute a moment’s gaiety to the dreary, -heart-breaking routine.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was before the days of the factory inspectors, -and conditions were bad—so bad that if anyone -were to tell you how bad they were you would never -believe it. In those days a bright spirit in a sweatshop -was no common thing. One day Gurtman -announced that there would be a reduction of three -cents on piece-work, and a great silence fell upon -the room. A woman gasped as if something had -struck her. And Chertoff struck up a merry -Russian tune:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c018'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>The miller in his Sunday clothes</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Came riding into Warsaw.</em>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>“Why do you always sing those silly tunes?” -Gurtman asked, peevishly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And then Chertoff closed his eyes and answered:</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>“Perhaps to save your life! Who knows?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then he opened his eyes and laughed, and many -laughed with him at the very silliness of the retort, -but the sweater only disliked him the more for it. -It was a curious habit of Chertoff’s to close his -eyes when something stung him, and it worked a -startling transformation in his expression. It -was as if a light had been extinguished and a sudden -gloom had overspread his features. The lines -became sharp, and something sinister would creep -into his countenance. But in a moment his eyes -would open and a light of kindness would illumine -his face.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Twice this transformation had come upon him -and had lingered long enough to make the room -uneasy. The first time was when Chertoff’s -mother, who had worked at the machine side by side -with her son for five years, was summarily dismissed. -Chertoff had asked the sweater for the -reason. In the hearing of all the room Gurtman -had curtly replied:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She’s too old for work. She’s too slow. I -don’t want her.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They thought that Chertoff was fainting, so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>ashen and so haggard did his features become. -But when he opened his eyes and smiled the iron -rod that he held in his hands was seen by all to -have been bent almost double. The other time—and -oh! how this must have rankled!—was when -Gurtman jestingly taunted Chertoff with being -enamoured of Babel. For it was true. Chertoff, -in addition to his skill as a workman, was an expert -mechanic, and was quite valuable in the shop in -keeping the sewing machines in repair. He was -sitting under a machine with a big screw-driver in -his hand when Gurtman, in a burst of pleasantry, -asked him if it were true that he loved Babel. For -a long time no answer came. Then the screw-driver -rolled to the sweater’s feet, crumpled almost -into a ball, and Chertoff’s merry voice rang out:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Of course I love Babel! Who does not?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And then all laughed—all save Babel, who reddened -and frowned, for, with all her poverty and -with all the struggle for existence that had been -her lot since she was old enough to tread a pedal, -Babel was a sensitive creature, and did not like to -hear her name flung to and fro in the sweatshop. -Was Babel pretty? “When a girl has lovely -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>eyes,” says the Talmud, “it is a token that she is -pretty.” Babel had lovely eyes, and must, therefore, -have been pretty. Yet what matters it? -Chertoff was eating out his heart with vain longing -for Babel, suffering all the tortures of unrequited -passion, all the agonies that he suffers who yearns -with all the strength of his being to possess what -he knows can never be his. Is not that the true -tragedy of life? So what matters it if Babel be -not to your taste or mine? Chertoff loved her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He had never told Babel that he loved her; -never had asked her whether she cared for him. -He had spared himself added misery. Content to -suffer, he did his best to conceal his hopeless passion, -and strove with all his might to lighten the -burden of gloom that was the lot of his fellow-workers. -He never could understand, however, -why the sweater had taken so strong a dislike to -him. Surely Gurtman could envy him nothing. -Why should a strong, fine-looking man—a rich -man, too, as matters went in Hester Street—take -pleasure in tormenting an ugly, good-natured -cripple? It was strange, yet true. Perhaps it -was that Chertoff’s cheery disposition grated upon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>the brooding, gloomy temperament of the sweater, -or perhaps the cripple’s popularity in the sweatshop -was an offence in his employer’s eyes, or perhaps -it was merely one of those unreasoning antipathies -that one man often feels toward another -and for which he can give not the slightest explanation. -It was an undeniable fact, however, that the -sweater hated his hunchback employee, and would -never have tolerated him had Chertoff not been so -valuable a workman, and, deeming it unprofitable -to discharge him, vented his dislike in baiting and -tormenting Chertoff whenever an opportunity -offered itself. And had it not been for Babel, -Chertoff would have gone elsewhere. Hopeless -though he knew his longing to be, he could not -bring himself to part from her presence.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And so matters went until a summer’s night -brought an interruption, and this interruption is -the only excuse for this tale. It had been a busy -day, and the sweatshop was working late into the -night to finish its work. It had been a hot day, -too, and men and women were nigh exhausted. The -thermometer was ninety-five in the street, but in -this room, you know, were four tremendous stoves -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>at full blast to keep the irons hot. And the -machines had been roaring almost since daybreak, -and the men and women were pale and weary and -half suffocated. Chertoff had been watching -Babel anxiously for nearly an hour. She had lost -her pallor and her face had become slightly flushed, -which is a bad sign in a sweatshop. He feared the -strain was becoming too great, and the thoughts -that crowded one upon another in his wearied brain -were beginning to daze him. He made a heroic -effort.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come, Babel,” he said, “if you will stop work -and listen I’ll sing that song you like.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Sing it! Sing it!” cried fifty voices, although -no one looked up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not unless Babel stops working,” said Chertoff, -smiling.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Stop working, Babel! Stop working! We -want a song!” they all cried. So Babel stopped -working and, with a grateful nod to Chertoff, -folded her hands in her lap and settled herself -comfortably in her chair and fastened her eyes -upon the door that led into the rear room. Gurtman -was in this rear room filling the benzine cans.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>Chertoff began to sing. It was an old Russian -folk-song, and it began like this:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c018'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Sang a little bird, and sang,</em></div> - <div class='line in4'><em>And grew silent;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Knew the heart of merriment,</em></div> - <div class='line in4'><em>And forgot it.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Why, O little songster bird,</em></div> - <div class='line in4'><em>Grew you quiet?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>How learned you, O heart, to know</em></div> - <div class='line in4'><em>Gloomy sorrow?</em>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>He had sung this far when the door of the rear -room was flung open and Gurtman, in angry mood, -cried:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“In God’s name stop! That singing of yours -is making my back as crooked as yours!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Chertoff turned swiftly, with arm upraised, but -before he could utter a word a huge flame of fire -shot from the open doorway and enveloped the -sweater, and a crash, loud as a peal of thunder, -filled the room.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The benzine had exploded. In a twinkling -bright flames seemed to dart from every nook and -cranny, and the wall between the two rooms was -torn asunder. Then a panic of screams and frenzied -cries arose, and the workers ran wildly, some -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>to the door, some to the windows that looked down -upon the street four stories below, some trying -frantically to tear their way through the solid -walls. The voice of Chertoff rose above the tumult. -“Follow me!” he cried. “Don’t be afraid!” -He seized Babel, who had fainted, laid her gently -upon his misshapen shoulder, and led the way into -an adjoining room where the windows opened upon -a fire escape. “Take your time,” he cried. -“Follow me slowly down the ladders. There is no -danger.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Once out of sight of the flames calmness was soon -restored, and one by one they slowly descended the -iron ladders, following the lead of the hunchback -with his burden. Babel soon regained consciousness. -She looked wildly from face to face and -then, clutching Chertoff’s arm, asked hoarsely, -“Gurtman! Where is he? Is he safe?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Chertoff smiled. “Do not worry, Babel. He -probably will never torment a human being -again!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Babel relaxed her hold and every drop of blood -left her face. She began to moan pitifully: “I -loved him! I loved him!” She buried her face -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>in her hands and burst into a fit of weeping. -Chertoff’s eyes closed. A look of hatred, unutterable, -venomous hatred, flashed into his face. He -swayed to and fro with clenched fists, as though -he would fall. Then swiftly he raised his head, -his eyes opened, and a smile overspread his face. -“Wait, Babel,” he whispered. “Wait!” With -the agility of a gorilla he sprang upon the iron -ladder and climbed swiftly upward. The bright -moon cast a weird, twisting shadow upon the wall -of the house, as of some huge, misshapen beast. -He reached the fourth story and disappeared -through the open window, whence the smoke had -already begun to creep. Presently he reappeared -with the form of Gurtman upon his shoulder, and -slowly descended. With the utmost gentleness he -laid his burden upon the ground and placed his -hand over the heart. Then he looked up into -Babel’s face.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He is alive. He is not hurt much.” Then -Babel cried as though her heart would break, and -Chertoff—went home.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gurtman lived. He lived, and in a few days -the sweatshop was running again exactly as it had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>run before, and everything else went on exactly as -it had gone on before. Perhaps Chertoff’s pale -face became a trifle whiter, but that only brought -out his ugliness the more vividly. He was a splendid -workman, and Gurtman could not afford to lose -him. Sometimes when the task was hard he sang -that old song:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c018'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Sang a little bird, and sang,</em></div> - <div class='line in4'><em>And grew silent;</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Knew the heart of merriment,</em></div> - <div class='line in4'><em>And forgot it.</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Why, O little songster bird,</em></div> - <div class='line in4'><em>Grew you quiet?</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>How learned you, O heart, to know</em></div> - <div class='line in4'><em>Gloomy sorrow?</em>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE MURDERER</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>When Marowitz arrived at the station-house to -report for duty, the sergeant gazed at him curiously.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’re to report at headquarters immediately,” -he said. “I don’t know what for. The -Chief just sent word that he wants to see you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Marowitz looked bewildered. Summons to headquarters -usually meant trouble. Rewards usually -came through the precinct Captain. Marowitz -wondered what delinquency he was to be reprimanded -for. He could think of nothing that he -had done in violation of the regulations.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Half an hour later he stood in the presence of -the Chief.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You sent for me,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Chief looked at him inquiringly. “What -is your name?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Marowitz.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Chief’s face lit up. “Oh, yes,” he said. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>“From the Eldridge Street station. Do you speak -the Yiddish jargon?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Marowitz drew a long breath of relief.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes, sir,” he answered. “I live in the Jewish -quarter.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good,” said the Chief. “I want you to lay -aside your uniform and put on citizen’s clothes. -Then go and look for a chap named Gratzberg. -He is a Russian, and is wanted in Odessa for murder. -He is supposed to be hiding somewhere in the -Jewish quarter here. You’ll have no trouble in -spotting him if you run across him. Here,”—the -Chief drew a slip of paper from his desk—“here -is the cabled description: Height, five feet seven; -weight, about 150 pounds. Has a black beard. -Blue eyes. Right ear marked on top by deep -scar.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He handed the paper to Marowitz.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Keep your eyes open,” he said, “for marked -ears. It’ll be a big thing for you if you catch -him. When I was your age I would have given -the world for a chance like this.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Marowitz left headquarters he walked on -air. Here was a chance, indeed. He had been a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>policeman for nearly six years, and in all that time -there had come no opportunity to distinguish himself -through heroism or skill, or through any -achievement, save the faithful performance of -routine duty. His heart now beat high with hope. -How pleased his wife would be! His name would -be in all the newspapers. “The Murderer Caught! -Officer Marowitz Runs Him to Earth!” Officer -Marowitz already enjoyed the taste of the intoxicating -cup of fame.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In mounting the stairs of the tenement where he -lived Marowitz nearly stumbled over the figure of -a little boy who was busily engaged in playing -Indian, lurking in the darkness in wait for a foe to -come along. The next moment the little figure was -scrambling over him, shouting with delight:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s papa! Come to play Indian with -Bootsy!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hello, little rascal!” cried the policeman. -“Papa can’t play to-day. Got to go right out -after naughty man.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Suddenly an idea came to him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Want to come along with papa, little Boots?” -he asked. The little fellow yelled with joy at the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>prospect of this rare treat. He was six years old, -and had blue eyes and a winsome face. His real -name was Hermann, but an infantile tendency to -chew for hours all the shoes and boots of the household -had fastened upon him the name of “Boots,” -by which all the neighbourhood knew him and loved -him. An hour later, and all that day, and all the -next day, and the day after for a whole week, -Marowitz and his little son wandered, apparently -in aimless fashion, up and down the streets of the -East Side. The companionship of the boy was as -good as a thousand disguises. It would have been -difficult to imagine anything less detective-like or -police-like than this amiable-looking young father -taking his son out for a holiday promenade.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Occasionally they would wander into one or another -of the Jewish cafés, where little Boots -ascended to the seventh heaven of joy in sweet -drinks while Marowitz gazed about him, carelessly, -for a man with a dark beard and a marked ear. In -one of these cafés, happening to pick up a Russian -newspaper, he read an account of the crime with -which this man Gratzberg was charged. It appeared -that Gratzberg, while returning from the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>synagogue with his wife, had accidently jostled a -young soldier. The soldier had struck him, and -abused him for a vile Jew, and Gratzberg, knowing -the futility of resenting the insult, had edged out -of the soldier’s way, and was passing on when he -heard a scream from his wife. The soldier, attracted -by the woman’s comeliness, had thrown his -arms around her, saying, “I will take a kiss from -those Jewish lips to wipe out the insult to which -I have been subjected.” In sudden fury Gratzberg -rushed upon the soldier, and, with a light cane -which he carried, made a swift thrust into his face. -The soldier fell to the ground, dead. The thin -point of the cane had entered his eye and pierced -through into the brain. Gratzberg turned and -fled, and from that moment no man had seen -him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Marowitz laid down the paper and frowned. He -sat for a long time, plunged in thought. Then, -with a shrug of his shoulders, he muttered, “Duty -is duty.” And, taking little Boots by the hand, -he resumed his search for the man with the black -beard and the marked ear.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was a long and tedious search, and almost barren -<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>in clues. Two men whom he approached—men -whom he knew—remembered having seen a -man who answered the description, but their recollection -was too dim to afford him the slightest assistance. -In the course of the week he had made a -dozen visits to every café, restaurant, and meeting -place in the neighbourhood, had conscientiously -patrolled every street, both by day and by night, -had gone into many stores, and followed the delivery -of nearly all the Russian newspapers that -came into that quarter. But without a glimpse of -the man with the marked ear.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There came a night when the heat grew so intense, -and the atmosphere so humid and suffocating -that nearly every house in the Ghetto poured out -its denizens into the street to seek relief. Numerous -parties made their way to the river, to lounge -about the docks and piers, where a light breeze -brought grateful relief from the intense heat.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Want to go down to the river, Boots?” asked -Marowitz.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The lad’s eyes brightened. He was worn out -with the heat, and too weary to speak. He laid his -little hand in his father’s, and they went down to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>river. Marowitz walked down a long pier, crowded -with people, and peered into the face of every man -he saw. They were all peaceful workingmen, oppressed -by the heat, and seeking rest, and none -among them had marked ears. The cool breeze -acted like a tonic upon little Boots. In a few minutes -he had joined a group of children who were -running out and screaming shrilly at play, and -presently his merry voice could plainly be distinguished -above all the rest. Marowitz seated himself -on the string-piece at the end of the pier, and -leaned his head against a post in grateful, contented -repose. His mind went ruefully over his -week’s work.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He cannot be in this neighbourhood,” he -thought, “else I would have found some trace of -him. I have left nothing undone. I have worked -hard and faithfully on this assignment. But luck -is against me. To-morrow I will have to report—failure.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was a depressing thought. He had had his -chance and had failed. Promotion—the rosy dawn -of fame—became dimmer and dimmer. Now suddenly -rose a scream of terror, followed instantly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>by a loud splash. Then a hubbub of voices and -cries. Then, out of the black water, a wild cry, -“Papa! Papa!” Even before the people began to -run toward him Marowitz realised that Boots had -fallen into the river. A swift, sharp pang of dread, -of horrible fear, shot through him. He saw the -white, upturned face floating by—sprang swiftly, -blindly into the water. And not until the splash, -when the shock of the cold water struck him, at -the very moment when he felt the arms of little -Boots envelop him, and felt the strong current -sweeping them along—not until then did Marowitz -remember that he could not swim a stroke.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Help! Help!” he cried, at the top of his -voice. But the lights of the pier had already begun -to fade. The cries of the people were rapidly -dying out into a low hum. It was ebb tide, swift -and relentless as death. A twist in the current -carried them in toward another pier—deserted—and -dark—save for a faint gleam of light that -shone through an aperture below the string-piece -and threw a dancing trail of dim brightness upon -the water.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Help! Help!” cried Marowitz, in despair. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>He heard an answering cry. The faint light had -suddenly been cut off; the opening through which -it had shone had suddenly been enlarged; Marowitz -saw the figure of a man emerge.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Help! For God’s sake!” he cried.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man climbed quickly to the top of the pier, -shouting something which Marowitz could not distinguish—seized -a great log which lay upon the -pier, and, holding it in his arms, sprang into the -water. A few quick strokes brought him to Marowitz’s -side. He pushed forward the log so that -the policeman could grasp it. Then, allowing the -current to carry them down the stream, yet, by -slow swimming guiding the log nearer and nearer -toward the shore, the man was finally able to grasp -the rudder of a ship at anchor in a dock. A few -moments later they stood upon the deck, surrounded -by the crew of the ship; the loungers of -the wharf alongside gazing down upon them in -curiosity. Boots was safe and uninjured. The -moment he felt his feet firmly planted on the ship’s -deck he burst into wild wailing, and Marowitz, with -his hand upon his heart, murmured thanks to God. -Then he turned to thank his rescuer, who stood, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>with the water dripping from him, under a ship’s -lantern. The next moment Marowitz’s outstretched -hand fell, as if stricken, to his side, and -he stood stock still, bewildered. The lantern’s rays -fell upon the man’s ear, illuminating a deep red -scar. The water was dripping from the man’s -long black beard. And when he saw Marowitz -draw back, and saw his gaze fastened as if fascinated -upon that scarred ear, a ghastly pallor overspread -the man’s face. For a moment they stood -thus, gazing at each other. Then Marowitz strode -forward impetuously, seized the man’s hand, and -carried it to his lips, and in the Yiddish jargon -said to him:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You have saved my boy’s life. You have -saved my life. May the blessing of the Lord be -upon you!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Marowitz then took his son in his arms and -walked briskly homeward.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What luck?” asked the Chief next day, when -he reported at headquarters. Marowitz shook his -head.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They must be mistaken. He is not in the -Jewish quarter.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>The Chief frowned. Then Marowitz, with -heightened colour, said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I want to resign. I—I don’t think I’m cut -out for a good detective.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“H’m!” said the Chief. “I guess you’re -right.”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span> - <h2 class='c005'>UNCONVERTED</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>The Reverend Thomas Gillespie (it may have -been William—I am not sure of his first name) -noticed a tall old man with fierce brown eyes -standing in the front of the crowd. Then a stone -struck the Reverend Gillespie in the face. The -crowd pressed in upon him, and it would have gone -ill with the preacher if the tall, brown-eyed man -had not turned upon the crowd and, in a voice that -drowned every other sound, cried:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Touch him not! Stand back!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The crowd hesitated and halted. The tall man -had turned his back upon the Reverend Gillespie, -and now stood facing the rough-looking group.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Touch him not!” he repeated. “He is an -honest man. He means us no harm. He is but -acting according to his lights. He is only mistaken. -Whoever throws another stone is an outcast. -‘Before me,’ said the Lord, ‘there is no -difference between Jew and Gentile; he that accomplishes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>good will I reward accordingly.’ -Friends, go your way!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In a few minutes the entire crowd had dispersed; -the tall man was helping the clergyman to his feet, -and the first “open-air meeting” of the Reverend -Gillespie’s “Mission to the East Side Jews” had -come to an end. The Reverend’s cheek was bleeding, -and the tall man helped him staunch the flow -of blood with the aid of a handkerchief that seemed -to have seen patriarchal days.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Friend,” he then said to the clergyman, “can -you spare a few moments to accompany me to my -home? It is close by, and I would like to speak to -you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The clergyman’s head was in a whirl. The happenings -of the past few minutes had dazed him. -He was a young man and enthusiastic, and this idea -of converting the Jews of the East Side to Christianity -was all his own idea—all his own undertaking, -without pay, without hope of reward. He -knew German well, and a little Russian, and it had -not taken him long to acquire sufficient proficiency -in the jargon to make himself clearly understood. -Then began this “open-air meeting,” the sudden -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>outburst of derisive cries and hooting before he had -uttered a dozen words of the solemn exhortation -that he had so carefully planned, then the rush and -the stone that had cut his cheek, and—he was only -dimly conscious of this—the sudden interference -of the tall man. He was glad to accompany his -rescuer—glad to do anything that would afford a -moment’s quiet rest. The Reverend Gillespie -wanted to think the situation over.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The tall man led him into a tenement close by, -through the hall, and across a filthy court-yard -into a rear tenement, and then up four foul, weary -flights of stairs. He opened a door, and the clergyman -found himself in a small dark room that -seemed, from its furnishings, as well as from its -odours, to serve the purpose of sitting-, sleeping-, -dining-room, and kitchen. In one corner stood a -couch, upon which lay an old man, apparently -asleep. His long, grey beard rose and fell upon -the coverlet with his regular breathing; but his -cheeks were sunken, and his hands, that clutched -the edge of the coverlet, were thin and wasted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Rest yourself,” said the tall man to the clergyman. -“You are worn out.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>The clergyman seated himself and drew a long -breath of relief. He was really tired, and sitting -down acted like a tonic. He began to thank his -rescuer. It was the first word he had spoken, and -his voice seemed to arouse a sudden fire in the eyes -of his rescuer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Listen!” he cried, leaning forward, and pointing -a long, gaunt finger at the clergyman. “Listen -to me. I have brought you here because I think -you are an honest man. You are like a man who -walks in the midst of light with his eyes shut and -declares there is no light. You have come here to -preach to Jews, to beseech them to forsake the -teachings of the Prophets and to believe that the -Messiah has come. But to preach to Jews you must -first find your Jews. You were not speaking to -Jews. It was not a Jew who threw that stone at -you. It is true the Talmud says, ‘An Israelite, -even when he sins and abandons the faith, is still an -Israelite.’ But you have not come to convert the -sinners against Israel. You have come to convert -Jews. And I have brought you here to show you a -Jew.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That old man whom you see there—no, he is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>not sleeping. He is dying. You are shocked? -No, he has no disease. Medical skill can do nothing -for him. He is an old man, tired of the struggle -of life, worn out, wasting away. Oh, he will open -his eyes again, and he will eat food, too, but there -is no hope. In a few days he will be no more.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He is a Jew. We came from Russia together, -he and I, and we struggled together, side by side, -for nearly a quarter of a century. It did not take -me long to forget many of the things the rabbis -had taught me, and to become impatient of the -restraints of religion. But he remained steadfast, -oh, so steadfast! His religion was the breath of -life to him; he could no more depart from it than -he could accustom himself to live without breathing. -It was a bitter struggle, year after year, -slaving from break of day until dark, with nothing -to save, no headway, no future, no hope. I often -became despondent, but he was always cheerful. -He had the true faith to sustain him; a smile, a -cheerful word, and always some apt quotation -from the Talmud to dispel my despondent mood.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He argued with me, he pleaded with me, he -read to me the words of the law, and the interpretations -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>of the learned rabbis, day after day, month -after month, year after year—always so kind, so -gentle, so patient, so loving. And all the while we -struggled for our daily living together and suffered -and hungered, and many times were subjected -to insult and even injury. And he would -always repeat from the Talmud, ‘Man should accustom -himself to say of everything that God does -that it is for the best.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then Fortune smiled upon him. An unexpected -piece of luck, a bold enterprise, a few quick, -profitable ventures, and he became independent. -He made me share his good fortune. We started -one of those little banking houses on the East Side, -and so great was the confidence that all who knew -him possessed in him, that in less than a year we -were a well-known, reliable establishment, with -prospects that no outsider would ever have dreamed -of. Through all the days of prosperity he remained -a devout Jew. Not a feast passed unobserved. -Not a ceremony went unperformed. Not -an act of devotion, of kindness, or of charity -prescribed by the Talmud was omitted by my -friend.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>“Then came the black day—the great, panic of -six years ago—do you remember it? It came suddenly, -on a Friday afternoon, like a huge storm-cloud, -threatening to burst the next morning.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They came to him—all his customers—in -swarms, to ask him if he would keep his banking -place open the next day. ‘No!’ he said. ‘To-morrow -is the Sabbath!’ ‘You will be ruined!’ -they cried. ‘We will be ruined!’ ‘Friends,’ he -said, in his quiet way, ‘I have enough money laid -aside to guard you against ruin, even if all my establishment -be wiped from the face of the earth. -But to-morrow is the Sabbath. I have observed the -Sabbath for nearly sixty years. I must not fail -to-morrow.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And when the morrow came the bank failed, -and they brought the news to him in the synagogue. -But he gave no heed to them; he was -listening to the reading of the law. They came -to tell him that banks were crashing everywhere, -that the bottom had fallen out of the world of business -and finance. But he was listening to the words -that were spoken by Moses on Sinai.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And,” the narrator’s eyes filled, and the tears -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>began to roll down his cheeks, “on the Monday -that followed he gave, to every man and to every -woman and to every child that had trusted him, -every penny that he had saved, and he made me give -every penny that I had saved. And when all was -gone, and the last creditor had gone away, paid -in full, he turned to me and said, ‘Man should accustom -himself to say of everything that God does -that it is for the best!’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And the next day—yes, the very next day—we -applied for work in a sweater’s shop, and we have -been working there ever since.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We were too old to begin daring ventures over -again. I would have clung to the money we had -saved, but he—he was so good, so honest, that the -very thought of it filled me with shame. And now -he is worn out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“In a few days he will die, and I will be left to -fight on alone.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But, oh, my friend, there, lying on that couch, -you see a Jew!</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Would you convert him? What would you -have him believe? To what would you change his -faith? Ah, you will say there are not many like -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>him. No! Would to God there were! It would -be a happier world.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But it was faith in Judaism that made him -what he was. If I—if all Jews could only believe -in the religion of their fathers as he believed—what -an example to mankind Israel would be!</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My friend, I thank you. You have come with -me—you have listened to my story. I must attend -to my friend. May the peace of God be with -you!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Reverend Thomas Gillespie (although, as I -said, it may have been William) bowed, and, without -a word, walked slowly out of the room. His -lips trembled slightly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The “second outdoor meeting of the Reverend -Gillespie’s Mission to the East Side Jews” has -never taken place.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span> - <h2 class='c005'>WITHOUT FEAR OF GOD</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c015'>The thread on which the good qualities of human -beings are strung like pearls, is the fear of God. -When the fastenings of this fear are unloosed -the pearls roll in all directions and are lost, one -by one.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c019'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>—<cite>The Book of Morals.</cite></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>Be pleased to remember that this tale points no -moral, that there is absolutely nothing to be deduced -from it, and that in narrating it I am but -repeating a curious incident that belongs to the -East Side. It is a strange place, this East Side, -with its heterogeneous elements, its babble of jargons. -Its noise and its silence, its impenetrable -mystery, its virtues, its romance, and its poverty—above -all, its poverty! Some day I shall tell you -something about the poverty of the East Side that -will tax your credulity.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>There lived on the East Side once a man who had -no fear of God. His name was Shatzkin, and there -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>had been a time when he was a learned man, skilled -in the interpretation of Talmudic lore, fair to look -upon and strong.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Like many another outcast he had come with his -story and his mystery out of the “poisonous East,” -and there was no tie between him and his neighbours -save the tie of Judaism. It is a wonderful -bond between men, this tie of Judaism, a bond -of steel that it has taken four thousand years of -suffering and death to forge, and its ends are fastened -to men’s hearts by rivets that are stronger -than adamant, and the rabbis call these rivets -“The fear of God.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The heat of summer came on. You who swelter -in your parlour these sultry days—do you know -what the heat of summer means to two families -chained by poverty within a solitary room in a -Ghetto tenement, where there is neither light nor -air, where the pores of the walls perspire, where the -stench of decay is ever present, where there is -nothing but heat, heat, heat? You who have read -with horror the tale of the Black Hole of Calcutta—have -you seen a child lie upon a bare floor, -gasping, and gasping and gasping for breath -<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>amid the roomful of silent people who are stitching -for bread? I would give a year of my life to -wipe out a certain memory that is awakened each -time I hear a child cry—it was terrible.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But I was telling you the story of Shatzkin.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The heat of summer came on, and his youngest-born -died in his arms for lack of nourishment. And -while his wife sat wringing her hands and the other -children were crying, Shatzkin laid the lifeless -body upon the bare floor, and, donning his praying -cap, raised his voice and chanted:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Great is my affliction, O God of Israel, but -Thou knowest best!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And it grew hotter, and the other children succumbed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You had better send them to the country,” -said the doctor, and, seeing Shatzkin staring at -him dumbly, “Don’t you understand what I -mean?” he asked. Shatzkin nodded. He understood -full well and—and that night another -died, and Shatzkin bowed his head and cried:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Great is my affliction, O God of Israel, but -Thou knowest best!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Within a week the Shatzkins were childless—it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>was a terrible summer—and when the congregation -B’nai Sholom assembled upon the following Sabbath -and the rabbi spoke words of comfort, Shatzkin, -with his face buried in his hands, murmured:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My sorrow is nigh unbearable, O God of Israel, -but Thou knowest best!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And now the heat grew greater, and the sweatshops, -with all their people, were as silent as the -grave. The men cut the cloth and ironed it, and -the women stitched, stitched, stitched, with never -a sound, and there was no weeping, for their misery -was beyond the healing power of tears.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Shatzkin’s wife fell to the floor exhausted, and -they carried her to her room above, and sent for a -doctor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The sea air would do her good,” said the doctor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The sea air,” repeated Shatzkin, stupidly. -“The sea air.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Keep her as cool as you can. I will call again -in the morning.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The sea air,” was all that Shatzkin said. -“The sea air.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>In the middle of the night the woman cried, -“Shatzkin! Shatzkin!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He looked down, for her head lay upon his lap.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Shatzkin!” She was smiling feebly. “The -baby—Aaron—Esther—dear Shatzkin——”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>The congregation of B’nai Sholom had assembled -for Sabbath eve worship. The rabbi was -in the midst of the service.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Blessed be God on high!” he read from the -book. “Blessed be the Lord of Israel, who holds -the world in the palm of His hand. For He is a -righteous God——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ho! ho!” shouted a derisive voice. The -startled worshippers hastily turned their heads. -They beheld a gaunt figure that had risen in the -rear of the room, and seemed to be shaking with -laughter. It was Shatzkin, but so pale and worn -that few recognised him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Who are you that disturb this holy service?” -cried the rabbi. “Have you no fear of God in -your heart?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man ceased laughing and stared the rabbi -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>in the eyes. “No,” he said, slowly. “I have no -fear of God.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A terrible hush had fallen upon the assemblage, -and the man, looking vacantly from one to another -of the faces that were turned to him, said, in a hollow -voice:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am Shatzkin. Does no one remember Shatzkin? -I sat here only last week,” and, slowly, “my—wife—went—to—the—seashore!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi’s face softened.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good, brother Shatzkin,” his voice was trembling. -“God has tried——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You lie!” cried Shatzkin, fiercely. “Do not -speak to me of God! I have no fear of Him! He -killed my youngest-born, and I prayed to Him—on -my knees I prayed and cried, ‘Thou knowest -best!’ And He killed the others—all the others, -and I blessed Him and on my knees I prayed, ‘Thou -knowest best!’ And He killed my wife—my darling -wife—in my arms He killed her. And I am -alone—alone—alone, and I fear no God! Curse—curse—curse! -Ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho! Why -should I fear God?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And throwing a prayer-book to the floor he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>trampled it under foot, and rushed out into the -street.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>For many years there worked in one of the sweatshops -on the East Side a shrivelled little man, -with keen blue eyes, who was always laughing. -From sunrise until midnight he toiled, sometimes -humming an old melody, but always with a smile -upon his lips. The other workers laughed and -chatted merrily in the winter time, and became -grave and silent in the summer, but rarely did they -pay attention to the old man who seemed always -happy. Strangers that visited the place were invariably -attracted by the cheerful aspect of the -man, but when they spoke to him he would smile and answer:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I must earn money to send my wife to the sea -air!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And if they asked, “Who is this man?” they -would be told in a whisper of awe:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He has no fear of God!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And then a significant shake of the head.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>The heat of summer is here again. Shatzkin -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>has been dead a long time, and the story is almost -forgotten. But in the Ghetto each day his cry is -repeated, and through the heat and the foul air -there arises from a thousand hearts the tearless -murmur:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Great is my affliction, O God of Israel, but -Thou knowest best!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE SUN OF WISDOM</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>“And therefore,” concluded Salvin, stroking his -long, grey beard, “we are forced to accept the -belief that the object of life is toil. We are the -advance guard cutting out the road down which -the next generation will travel, who, in turn, will -carry the road further along. Our work done—our -usefulness ends. We have accomplished our -mission, and nothing remains but to make way for -our successors.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Young Levine smiled, and rose to go.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are wrong, my pessimistic brother,” he -said, fondly laying his hand upon the old man’s -shoulder. “You are wrong. Some day the sun -of wisdom may shine upon you and you will learn -the truth.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Salvin had been the friend of Levine’s father, -and, despite the inequality of their ages, a firm -friendship existed between him and the son. He -now blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling, and with -a smile of amusement gazed at the young man.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>“And what, O Solomon,” he asked, “may the -sun of wisdom have taught you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Levine’s face lit up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The object of life,” he said, speaking swiftly -and earnestly, “is love. It begins with love; it -ends with love. Without love life has no object. -It is, then, mere aimless, wondering, puzzling existence -during which the mind—like yours—struggles -vainly to solve the riddle of why and wherefore. -But those who have once had the truth -pointed out to them are never in doubt. To them -love explains all. Without love you cannot know -life.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Salvin smiled, and then, as the young man departed, -his face grew serious. He sat for a long -time plunged in deepest thought. Strange memories -must have crowded upon him, for his eyes -softened, and the lines of his face relaxed their -tension.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But at the end of it he only sighed and shook -his head gently and muttered, “It is toil! Not -love! Toil!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Levine, meanwhile, was walking back to his work. -He was a compositor in the printing-shop of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span><cite>Jewish Workingman</cite>, and it had been his custom, -for years, to meet his friend Salvin at the noonday -meal in Weiss’s café, where they discussed those -problems of life that perplex the minds of thinking -men. One problem, Levine felt, had been solved—had -been finally and definitely made clear. And -the magic had all been worked by Miriam’s eyes—coal-black -eyes that now seemed the alpha and -omega of all his existence. For Levine, the object -of life was Miriam. The sun rose in order -that he might look upon her. It set in order that -night might bring her sweet repose.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The seasons—what were they but a varying -background against which the panorama of love -could unfold itself? He toiled—for Miriam. He -lived—for Miriam. He thought—always of -Miriam. Could there be a simpler explanation of -the mysteries of existence? Poor old Salvin! -Poor, blind pessimist! After so much pondering -to achieve nothing better than that hopeless creed! -Toil? Yes, but only as a step toward love—as a -means toward the higher end. If man were created -for toil, then man were doomed to everlasting -animal existence. Whereas love raised him to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>higher planes, transformed him into a higher, nobler -being. Could life desire a sublimer object?</p> - -<p class='c000'>Levine trod on air. In his workshop the walls, -the lights, the papers—all that surrounded him—sang -to him of love. The presses chanted the -melody of Miriam’s eyes all the livelong day. The -very stones in the street seemed to him to sing it: -“She is fair! She is fair! She is fair!” and -“Love is all! Love is all! Love is all!”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>One day they were married. Salvin was there, -with a hearty clasp of the hand for his friend, and -a kiss and a blessing for the bride. And laughingly -Levine whispered into his ear, “It is love!” -But Salvin was stubborn. He smiled and shook his -head playfully. But what he whispered in return -was, “It is toil!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They were married, and the universe joined with -them in their pæan of love—love that, like the -wind, “bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest -the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it -cometh and whither it goeth.”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Do you know that kind of woman whose temperament -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>is like the smiling sunshine? Miriam was one -of these. A light, happy heart—a nature that -gloried in the joy of existence—ever ready to -sing, to smile, to frolic—sympathetic to all woe, -yet realising sorrow only as an external affliction, -whose sting she could see, but had never felt—the -soul of merriment was Miriam. Her lot in life -was an humble one; her task had been severe; but -through it all that sunshiny nature had served as -a shield to ward off the blows of life. Once—there -was a man. For a few hours Miriam’s brow had -puckered in deep thought. But the man had been -foolish enough to ask for a capitulation—for unconditional -surrender—ere the battle had been half -fought, and Miriam had shaken her head and had -passed him by. Then Levine had come. There -was a delicate, poetic strain in his nature that had -immediately appealed to her, and his soft words -fell upon willing ears. He had wooed her gently, -tenderly, caressingly—in marked contrast to the -tempestuous courtship that had failed—and he had -won. It “bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest -the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it -cometh and whither it goeth!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>Love’s eyes are keen, and Levine was quick to -see the change that slowly came over his wife. He -could not have explained it; there was no name for -it; it baffled analysis. The first time he spoke to -her about it she laughed and threw her arms around -his neck, saying, “Can’t you see that I am growing -older? You cannot expect your wife to remain -a silly, giggling girl all her life.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The second time he spoke to her about it she -gave the same answer. She did not embrace him, -however. And when she had answered him her -face became thoughtful. He spoke to her about it -a third time. She looked at him a long time before -speaking. Then she said, slowly:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes. I feel like a different woman. But I -don’t understand it.” He did not offer to kiss her -that night, as was his custom, but waited for her -to make the first advance. She did not seem to -notice the omission.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He never spoke to her about the matter again. -He never kissed her again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The marvels of a woman’s mind, the leaps and -bounds of the emotions, the gamut of passion upon -which her fancy plays and lingers—all these are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>the despair of psychology. Yet their manifestation -is sufficiently clear. How it came or whence -it came, or why it came, even Miriam herself -could not tell. But as a flash of lightning on an -inky night reveals with vivid clearness what the -darkness conceals, so the sudden revelation that she -adored the man whom she had rejected lit up, for -a brief moment, the gloom that had fallen upon her -heart and laid bare the terrible dreary prospect of -her life. It came like a thunderbolt. She loved -him. She had always loved him. He was the lord -and master whom her heart craved. The fire had -been smouldering in her heart. Now it leaped into -devouring flame. He loved her! He had fallen -upon his knees and had tried to drag her toward -him. He had sworn that his life would be wretched -without her. And now that she was married he -had thrown all the energies of his heart and soul -into incessant toil in order that he might forget -her. Married? She, the wife of Levine? A cry -of despair broke from her lips.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Ah, yes. The lightning flash had passed. But -she remembered what its brightness had revealed. -She knew now!</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>For a long time—for many weeks—she often -felt an almost irresistible impulse to scream aloud, -so that her husband—so that all the world might -hear: “I love him! Him only! No one but him.” -But the heart learns to bear even agony in silence. -Miriam settled down into the monotonous groove -that fate had marked out for her. The revelation -that had come to her so suddenly developed into a -wall that rose between her and her husband. An -invisible wall, yet each felt its presence, and after -many ineffectual attempts to surmount this barrier, -to woo and win her heart anew, Levine abandoned -the effort and yielded to despair. She never told -him, and he never knew—never even suspected. -But after that they lived in different worlds—each -equally wretched. For there is only one other -lingering misery on earth that can compare with -the lot of a woman who is married to one man with -her heart and soul bound up in another. It is the -lot of her husband.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For Miriam there was no consolation. Her -secret was buried in her inmost soul; she was -doomed to live out her life brooding over it. During -the day she often cried. When her husband -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>came home she met him with a calm face—often -with a smile—and then they would sit and talk -over trivial matters the while that her agony was -eating into her heart.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And Levine—the torments that he endured were -beyond all description! Of a sensitive temperament, -yet endowed with a clear, critical, philosophic -intellect, he sought for an explanation and a remedy -in a scrutiny of every incident of their married -life, in self-analysis, in the keenest introspection, -and found nothing but that insurmountable wall. -Nothing seemed credible or tangible save that dull -gnawing pain in his heart. Once or twice the -thought of self-destruction entered his head. Why -he thrust it aside he could not say. He was not a -coward. The prospect of fighting his way -through life with that burden of misery upon his -soul possessed infinitely more terrors for him than -the thought of suicide. Nor did he pursue the -suggestion sufficiently to come to the conclusion -that it was unworthy. It was an alien -thought, foreign to his nature, and could find -no lodgment. That was all. He lived on and -suffered.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>Have you ever heard of Levine, the poet? He -is a compositor in the printing-shop of the <cite>Jewish -Workingman</cite> by day—he writes poetry, and, occasionally, -short prose articles at night. He is not -a genius. He is not a born singer. But his work -is strong in its sincerity, and through it all runs -a strain—that world-old strain of pleading—of -weakness pleading for strength, of the oppressed -pleading for justice. He is not a great poet, but -among the readers of the <cite>Jewish Workingman</cite>, -and among the loiterers in the East Side cafés, he -is looked upon as a “friend of the masses.” And -what they all marvel at is his prodigious industry. -A day’s work in the composing-room of the <cite>Jewish -Workingman</cite> is a task calculated to sap a man’s -vitality to its last drop. Yet, this task completed, -Levine throws himself with feverish activity into -the composition of verse, and writes, and writes, -and writes, until the lamp burns low. Sometimes, -when he tires, he pauses to listen to the gentle -breathing of his wife, who sleeps in the next room. -It acts like a spur upon him; with renewed energy -he plunges into his work.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The poem which the readers of the <cite>Jewish -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>Workingman</cite> like best of all Levine’s writings is -“Phantoms.” It ends—roughly translated from -the Yiddish—like this:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c018'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>And when the deepening gloom of night descends</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Upon the perilous path and towering heights,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>And wild storm phantoms crowd each rocky pass—</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Love sinks exhausted, but grim Toil climbs on!</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span> - <h2 class='c005'>A DAUGHTER OF ISRAEL</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>There was a young man with a Christian heart -and blue eyes—eyes that made you look at him -again and smile at his earnestness—who went -among the lowly Jews of the East Side to convert -them to the faith of the Messiah whom they disowned. -Those blue eyes fell, one day, upon a head -of hair that gleamed like gold, fiery, red hair, -silken and carelessly tangled, and shining in the -sunlight. Then the head turned and the young -man beheld the face of Bertha, daughter of Tamor, -the rabbi. And Bertha opened her eyes, which -were brown, and gazed curiously at this young -man who seemed out of place in the Ghetto, and -smiled and turned away.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A year went by and the Jews still disowned the -Messiah, but a great change had come over this -young man. In the vague future he still hoped to -carry out his daring scheme, but now all his heart -and all his soul and all his hopes of earthly happiness -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>were centred upon Bertha, daughter of Tamor, -the rabbi.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the beginning she had been amused at him, -but his persistence and his earnestness won their -reward, as those qualities always will, and when -this first year was at an end it came to pass that -this Jewish maiden wept, as a loving woman will -weep, for sheer joy of being loved; she a rabbi’s -daughter, bred in the traditions of a jealous faith, -he a Christian lad.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She had kept the secret of her growing love -locked in her heart, but now it became a burden -too heavy to be borne, and one night—it was -shortly before the fast of Yom Kippur—she -poured out her confession into her father’s ear. -She told it in whispers, hiding her face in her -father’s long beard, and with her arms around his -neck. When the full meaning of the revelation -dawned upon him, the Rabbi Tamor, ashen pale, -sprang from his feet and thrust her from him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A Christian!” he cried. “My daughter -marry a Christian!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He was an old man—so old and feeble that in a -few days the synagogue had planned to retire him -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>and install a younger rabbi in his place. But now -fury gave him strength. His whole frame trembled, -but his eyes were flashing fire, and he had -raised his arm as if he were about to strike his -daughter to the floor. But she did not move. -Her eyes were raised to his, tearfully but undismayed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do not strike me, father,” she said. “I cannot -help it. I love him. I have promised to -marry him. Will you not give me your blessing?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Blessings?” cried the infuriated old man. -“My curses upon you if you take so foul a step! -Your mother would rise from her grave if you married -a Christian! How dare you tell such a thing -to me—to me, who have devoted so many years to -bringing you up in the faith to which I have devoted -my life? Is there no son of Israel good -enough for you? Must you bring this horrible -calamity upon me in my old age? Would you -have me read you out of the congregation? If it -were the last act of my rabbinate—aye, if it were -the last act of my life, I would read out aloud, so -that all the world would know my shame, the ban -of excommunication that the synagogue would -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>impose upon you! Have I brought you up for -this?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But Bertha had swooned, and his rage fell upon -ears that did not hear.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>The cup of bitterness was full. Rabbi Tamor -knew his daughter, knew the full strength of her -nature, the steadfastness of her purpose. He had -pleaded, expostulated, argued, and threatened, but -all in vain. And to add to his misery he saw in -all his daughter’s passionate devotion to her lover -something that reminded him more and more vividly -of the wife whom he had courted and loved and -cherished until death took her from him. Many -years had gone by, but whenever his memory grew -dim, and her features began to grow indistinct, -he had only to look at his daughter to see them before -him again, in all their youthful beauty. His -daughter, the image of his dead wife, to marry a -Christian! It was the bitterness of gall!</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Rabbi Tamor’s father and grandfather had -been rabbis before him, and in his veins surged the -blood of devotion to Israel’s cause. He had been -in this country many years, but the roots of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>life had been planted in Russia, in a Ghetto where -the traditions of thousands of years still survived -in daily life, and in spirit he still dwelt there. To -him Christianity meant oppression, persecution, -torture. His nature was stern and unbending; -there could be no compromise, no palliation; the -sinner against Israel was like a venomous serpent -that must be crushed without argument. And -now his duty was clear.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the officials of the synagogue met, a few -days before Yom Kippur, the Rabbi Tamor, pale -and trembling, but firm in his determination, laid -before them the case of a young woman who had -resolved to marry outside her faith. The officials -listened, horror-stricken, but turned to him for the -verdict. He was a wise man, they knew, learned -in Mishna and Thora, and they had become accustomed -to abide by his decisions.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The warning!” he said, in a low voice. “Let -us read aloud the warning of the ban!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The new rabbi, who by courtesy had been invited -to the meeting, and who had listened with interest -to Rabbi Tamor’s narrative, raised his hand and -leaned forward as if he were about to speak. But -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>when he heard the clerk ask for the girl’s name, -and heard Rabbi Tamor, in a hoarse, stifling voice, -answer, “Bertha Tamor, my—my daughter!” his -hand fell and the words died upon his lips. But -he frowned and sat for a long time plunged in -deep thought.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Upon the Day of Atonement Bertha fasted. -She, too, had gone through a bitter struggle. For -a nature like hers to abandon the faith of her race -meant a racking of every fibre of soul and body. -She had not slept for three nights. Her face was -pale, and her eyes were encircled with black -shadows. But through all her misery, through -all the distress that she felt over her father’s grief, -she could not subdue the throbbing of exulting -joy that pulsed through her veins, nor blot out -from her mind the blue eyes of her lover or the -ardour of his kisses. But grief and joy only combined -to wear out her vitality; she felt despondent, -depressed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The sun began to sink below the housetops. -The day’s fasting and prayer were slowly coming -to an end. Bertha went to the synagogue, where, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>all that day, since sunrise, her father had been -praying. The news of the proposed reading of -the warning had spread, and when Bertha entered -the gallery set aside for women in the synagogue, -she felt every eye upon her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Yom Kippur service is long, and to him who -knows the story of Israel, intensely impressive. -When it drew near its close the Rabbi Tamor -slowly rose, and with trembling hands unfolded a -paper. Several times he cleared his throat as if to -speak, but each time his voice seemed to fail him. -The silence of death had fallen upon the congregation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Warning!” he began. He was clutching the -arm of the man who stood nearest him to steady -himself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Warning of the ban of excommunication upon -the daughter of——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Stop!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The new rabbi, seated among the congregation, -had risen, and was walking rapidly toward the -platform. A wave of excitement swept through -the hall. Rabbi Tamor’s hand fell to his side. -For a moment a look of relief came into his face. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>His duty was a terrible one, and any interruption -was welcome. When the new rabbi reached the -platform he began to speak. His voice was low -and musical, and after the harsh, strident tones of -their old rabbi, fell gratefully upon every ear. -He was a young man, of irregular, rather unprepossessing -features, and looked more like an energetic -sweatshop worker than a learned rabbi. But -when he began to speak, and the congregation beheld -the light that came into his eyes, every man in -that hall felt, instinctively, “Here is a teacher of -Israel!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is irregular,” he began, in his soft voice. -“I am violating every law and every rule. But -this is the Day of Atonement, and I would be untrue -to my faith, to my God and to you, my new -children, were I to keep silent.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Bertha, in her place in the gallery, realised -what her father was about to do she had become -as pale as a ghost, and had clutched the railing -in front of her, and had bitten her lip until the -blood came to keep from crying aloud in her anguish. -And she had sat there motionless as a -statue, seeing nothing but her father’s pale face -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>and the misery in his eyes. When the new rabbi -arose and began to speak, she became dazed. The -platform, the ark, and all the people below and -around her began to swim before her eyes. She -felt faint, felt that she was about to become unconscious, -when a sudden passionate note that had -come into the speaker’s voice acted like a tonic -upon her, and then, all at once, she became aware -that the vigorous, magnetic personality of the new -rabbi had taken possession of the whole synagogue, -and after that her eyes never left his face while -he was speaking.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘The Lord is my strength and song, and He -is become my salvation: He is my God, and I will -prepare Him a habitation; my father’s God, and I -will exalt Him!’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So sang Moses unto the Lord, and so year -after year, century after century, through the -long, weary dragging-out of the ages, have we, the -children of Israel, sung it after him. Our temples -have been shattered, our strength has been crushed, -all the force, all the skill, all the cunning of man -have been used to scatter us, to persecute us, to -torture us, to wipe us off the face of the earth. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>But through it all arose our steadfast song. He -was our fathers’ God! We will exalt Him!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And then the speaker launched upon the story of -Israel’s martyrdom. In a voice that vibrated with -intense emotion he recited that world-tragedy of -Israel’s downfall, her shame, her sufferings -throughout the slow centuries. The sorrow of it -filled Bertha’s heart. She was following every -word, every gesture, as if the recital fascinated -her. It is a sad story—there is none other like it -in the world. Bertha felt the pain of it all in her -own heart. And then he told how, through it all, -Israel remained steadfast. How, under the lash, -at the point of the knife, in the flames of the stake, -Israel remained steadfast. How, in the face of -temptation, with the vista of happiness, of wealth, -of empire opening before her, if only she would -renounce her faith—Israel remained steadfast. -And he told of the great ones, the stars of Israel, -who had chosen death rather than renounce their -faith, who had preferred ignominy, privation, torture -before they would prove untrue to their God.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He is our fathers’ God!” he cried. “Is there -a daughter of Israel who will not exalt Him?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>There was a moment of breathless silence. Then -arose a piercing cry from the gallery. Bertha had -sprung to her feet.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I will be true!” she cried. “I will be steadfast! -He is my fathers’ God and I will exalt -Him!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A commotion arose, and men and women ran -forward to seize her by the hand. But she brushed -them all aside and walked determinedly toward -the new rabbi. She seized his hand and carried it -to her lips.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He is my fathers’ God,” she said. “I will -exalt Him!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And repeating this, again and again, she hurried -out of the synagogue. The elders crowded -around her father and congratulated him.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>It is but a short distance from the heart of -the Ghetto to the river, and in times of poverty -and suffering there are many who traverse the intervening -space. The river flows silently. Occasionally -you hear the splash of a wave breaking -against the wharf, but the deep, swift current as -it sweeps resistlessly out to sea makes no sound.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>They brought to Rabbi Tamor, many hours -afterward, the shawl which she had left behind her -on the wharf. They took him to the spot, and -stood near him, lest in his grief he might attempt -to throw himself into the water. But he only -stood gazing with undimmed eyes at the dark river, -babbling incoherently. Once he raised his hand -to his ear.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hark!” he whispered. “Do you hear?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They listened, but could hear nothing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is her voice. She is crying, ‘I will exalt -Him!’ Do you hear it?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But they turned their heads from him to hide -the tears.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE MESSAGE OF ARCTURUS</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>David Adler sat at the open window gazing contemplatively -at the sea of stars whose soft radiance -filled the heavens. He was lonely. The stars were -his friends. Particularly one bright star whose -steadfastness, throughout his many night vigils, -had arrested his attention. It seemed to twinkle less -than the others, seemed more remote and purer. It -was Arcturus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To a lonely person, fretting under the peevish -worries of life, the contemplation of the stars brings -a feeling of contentment that is often akin to happiness. -Beside this glorious panorama, with its -background of infinity and eternity, its colossal -force, its sublime grandeur, the ills of life seem -trivial. And David, who had been lonely all his -life, would sit for hours upon each bright night, -building castles along the Milky Way and pouring -out his soul to the stellar universe—particularly to -Arcturus, who had never failed him. Upon this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>night there was a faint smile of amusement upon his -face. He was thinking of the queer mission that -Mandelkern, his employer, had asked him to undertake -that day.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mandelkern was old and crabbed and ugly, but -very rich, and when that morning he had said to -David, “I am thinking of marrying,” David felt -an almost uncontrollable desire to laugh. Then, -in his wheezy voice, Mandelkern had outlined his -plan.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The Shadchen has arranged it all. She is -younger than I—oh, a great many years younger, -David—and she does not know me. We have only -seen each other once. Of course she is marrying -me for my money, but I know that when once we are -married she will love me. But the trouble is, David, -that I cannot find out for myself, positively, -whether she is the kind of girl I want to marry. -You see, if I were to go and see her myself, she -would be on her good behaviour all the time. They -always are. And I would not know, until after we -were married, whether she is amiable, dutiful, studious, -modest—in short, whether she is just what a -girl should be. And then it would be too late. So -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>I want you, like the good David that you are, to -see her—don’t you know?—and get acquainted -with her—don’t you know?—and er—question her—er—study -her—don’t you know?” David had -promised to do what he could and they had shaken -hands, and the firm, hearty pressure of his employer’s -grasp had told him, more than words could -convey, how terribly earnest he was in his curiosity.</p> - -<p class='c000'>By the light of the stars David now sat pondering -over this droll situation and smiling. And as -he gazed at his friend Arcturus it seemed to him, -after all, a matter of the smallest moment whether -Mandelkern married the right girl or not—or married -at all—or whether anybody married—or lived—or -died.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>On the pretext of a trivial errand David set out -to study the personality and character of his employer’s -chosen bride. The moment his eyes fell -upon her the pretext that he had selected fled from -his mind. In sheer bewilderment he stood looking -at her. And when her face lit up and she began -to laugh merrily, David was ready to turn and -run in his embarrassment. He beheld a mere girl. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>She could not have been more than eighteen or nineteen -at the most, and, although her figure was -mature, her face and bearing were girlish. And -she was exquisitely pretty. At the very first impression -it seemed to David that he perceived a cold -gleam in her eye that betokened sordidness or meanness, -but in a twinkling he perceived that he had -been mistaken. A winsome sweetness rested upon -her lovely features. It was probably the unconscious -memory of Mandelkern that had given that -momentary colour to his thoughts. And now, even -before he had completed his admiring inventory of -her physical charms, she stood laughing at him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You look so funny,” she said. “I cannot help -laughing.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then David began to laugh, and in a moment -they were friends. To his delight he found that -she was clever, a shrewd observer, an entertaining -companion. Many things that she said awakened -no response in him. It was not until later that he -discovered the reason; she had lived all her young -years in the active world, in touch with the struggle, -the stir of life; he had lived in dreamland with the -stars.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>When Mandelkern asked David what impression -the girl had made upon him, he found, to his amazement, -that he was unable to give a satisfactory -reply.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She is charming, Mr. Mandelkern,” he said. -His employer nodded assent, but added:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I know that, but is she amiable?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>David pondered for a long time. Then he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Of course, Mr. Mandelkern, I have had no more -opportunity of judging what her qualities are -than you have. I will have to see more of her. But -I will go to see her several times, and probably in -a week or two weeks I shall be able to give you a -clear idea of her character.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mandelkern nodded approvingly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are a good David,” he said. “I have confidence -in your judgment.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And the stars that night seemed brighter, particularly -his friend Arcturus, who shone with wonderful -splendour and filled David’s heart with deep -content—and the pulsing joy of living.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>When the revelation came to him David felt no -shock, experienced no surprise. She had been so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>constantly in his thoughts, had drifted so quietly -into his life, that, when suddenly he realised that -she had become a part of his being, it seemed but -the natural order of events. It could have been -nothing else. He had been born into the world for -this. Through all their many talks the name of -Mandelkern had never been mentioned. In the -beginning the thought of this sweet, girlish nature -being doomed to mate itself with grey, blear-eyed -Mandelkern had haunted him like a nightmare. -But in the sunshine of her presence David quickly -forgot both his employer and the scheming Shadchen, -and when it dawned upon him that he loved -her, that she was necessary to him, that it was in -the harmonious plan of the universe that they -should be united forever, the thought of Mandelkern -came only as a reminder of the unpleasant -duty of revealing the truth to him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Not a word of love had he spoken. Upon a basis -of close friendship there had sprung up between -them a spirit of camaraderie in which sentiment -played no part. Now, suddenly, David felt toward -her a tenderness that he had never known before—a -desire to protect her, to cherish her—he loved her.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>It dawned upon Mandelkern that David’s answers -to his questions were becoming more and more -vague and unsatisfactory. And one night the -Shadchen, becoming alarmed at David’s frequent -visits to the girl, urged Mandelkern to make -haste.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It makes me uneasy,” he said, “to see you -sitting idle while a young man has so many opportunities -of courting your promised bride.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mandelkern’s watery eyes narrowed to a slit and -his teeth closed tightly together. Then he answered -firmly:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Have no fear. She will be mine. The lad is, -young.” And after a moment he repeated, “The -lad is young!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Aye, David was young! His pulses throbbed -with the vigour of youth, with the joy of hope, -with the deep torrent of a heart’s first love. Glorious -youth! Thou art the richest heritage of the -children of men! Canst thou not tarry? Down -the bright beam of Arcturus there came to David -a light that illumined his soul. Sitting at his window -with gaze upturned to the starry heavens, -there came to him the soft, sweet realisation that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>the secret of the universe was love, that life’s cup -of happiness was at his lips, that Arcturus had been -but waiting all these millions upon millions of years -to see the veil lifted from his eyes, and the bliss of -love revealed. Golden youth! Canst thou not -tarry?</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>They were walking along the street as night was -falling. They were laughing and chatting gaily, -discussing a droll legend of the Talmud that David -had recited to her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It reminds me,” said David, “of a story about -the Rabbi ben Zaccai, who——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A sudden moan and faint cry made him pause -and quickly turn. A woman whom they had just -passed was staggering with her hands pressed to -her breast. David sprang toward her, but before -he could reach her side she had fallen to the sidewalk, -and lay there motionless. In an instant he -had raised her to her knees, and was chafing her -wrists to restore her to consciousness. She recovered -quickly, but as soon as David had helped her -to her feet she began to cry weakly, and would have -fallen again had he not supported her.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>“What is the matter?” he asked. “Are you -ill?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The woman’s sobs increased, and David repeated -his question. Then, with the tears streaming down -her face, she answered:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I have eaten nothing for three days. I am -starving. I cannot beg. I cannot die. Oh, I am -so miserable!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>David assisted her to the steps of the tenement -in which she lived, and summoned her neighbours. -He gave them what little money he had in his -pocket, urged them to make haste and bring the -poor woman food and stimulants, and, promising -to return the next day, rejoined his companion.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My God!” he said, “wasn’t that terrible!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes. It was terrible!” she said. There was -an expression in her voice that caused him to look -at her, quickly, wonderingly. Her face had paled. -Her lips were tightly pressed together. She was -breathing rapidly. Her whole frame seemed agitated -by some suppressed emotion. It was not pity. -Her eyes were dry and gleaming. It was not shock -or faintness. There was an expression of determination, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>of emphatic resolve in her features. -David felt amazed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look at me!” he said. “Look me full in the -face!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She gave a short, harsh laugh. In her eyes -David saw that same gleam of sordid selfishness -that he had observed when first he met her. But -now it was clear, glittering, unmistakable.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Of what are you thinking?” he asked, slowly. -Her glance never wavered. David felt the beating -of his heart grow slower.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t mind telling you,” she said. She hesitated -for a moment, gave another short laugh, and -then went on:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I was thinking that that poor woman would -not have starved if she had married Mandelkern. -I was also thinking that I am going to marry Mandelkern. -I was also thinking how terrible it would -be if I did not marry Mandelkern, and would, some -day, have starvation to fear—like that woman.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Having unburdened her mind, she seemed relieved, -and, in a moment became her old self. With -a playful gesture she seized David’s arm and shook -him.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>“Come, sleepyhead, wake up!” she cried gaily. -“Don’t stand there staring at me as though I were -a ghost. What were you saying about the Rabbi -ben Zaccai?”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>David Adler sat at the open window gazing at -the swarming stars, whose radiance had begun to -pale. The dawn of day was at hand. Even now -a faint glow of light suffused the eastern sky. But -David saw it not. His eyes were fastened upon -Arcturus, whose brightness was yet undimmed, -whose lustre transcended the brightness of the -myriads of stars that crowded around. Travelling -through the immeasurable realms of space, straight -to his heart, streamed that bright ray, the messenger -of Arcturus, cold, relentless—without hope.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span> - <h2 class='c005'>QUEER SCHARENSTEIN</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>“Scharenstein?” they would say. “Oh, Scharenstein -is queer! He is good-hearted, poor fellow, -but——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then they would tap their foreheads significantly -and shake their heads. He had come from a -hamlet in Bessarabia—a hamlet so small that you -would not find it on any map, even if you could -pronounce the name. The whole population of -the hamlet did not exceed three hundred souls, of -whom all but three or four families were Christians. -And these Christians had risen, one day, and had -fallen upon the Jews. Scharenstein’s wife was -stabbed through the heart, and his son, his brown-eyed -little boy, was burned with the house. Upon -Scharenstein’s breast, as a reminder of an old historical -episode, they hacked a crude sign of a cross; -then they let him go, and Scharenstein in some way—no -one ever knew how—found his way to this -country. When the ship came into the harbour -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>he asked a sailor what that majestic figure was that -held aloft the shining light whose rays lit up -the wide stretch of the bay. They told him it -was the statue of Liberty Enlightening the -World.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is good,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He found work in a sweatshop. An immigrant -from a neighbouring hamlet came over later and -told the story, but when they came to Scharenstein -with sympathy he only laughed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He is queer,” they said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In all that shop none other worked as diligently -as Scharenstein. He was the first to arrive, and -the last to leave, and through all the day he worked -cheerfully, almost merrily, often humming old -airs that his fellow-workers had not heard for -many years. And a man who worked harder than -his fellows in a sweatshop must surely have been -queer, for in those days the sweatshop was a place -where the bodies and souls of men and women -writhed through hour after hour of torment and -misery, until, in sheer exhaustion, they became -numb. Scharenstein went through all this with a -smile on his lips, and even on the hottest day, when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>there came a few moments’ respite, he would keep -treading away at his machine and sing while the -others were gasping for breath. And at night, -when the work was done, and the weary toilers -dragged themselves home and flung themselves -upon their dreary beds, Scharenstein would trudge -all the way down to the Battery and stand for -hours gazing at the statue of Liberty Enlightening -the World. And as he gazed, the tense lines of -his face would relax, and a bright light would -come into his eyes, perhaps a tear would trickle -down his cheek. Then, after holding out both -arms in a yearning farewell, he would turn and -walk slowly homeward.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was one day—it was in summer, when the -thermometer stood at ninety-five in the shade—that -the burden of life seemed too heavy to be -borne. The air of the sweatshop was damp from -the wet cloth, and hot from the big stove upon -which the irons were heating. The machines were -roaring and clicking in a deafening din, above -which, every now and then, rose a loud hissing -sound as a red-hot goose was plunged into a tub -of water. The dampness and heat seemed to permeate -<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>everything; the machines were hot to the -touch. Men sat stripped to their undershirts, the -perspiration pouring from them. The sweater sat -as far from the stove as he could get, figuring his -accounts and frowning. The cost of labour was -too high. Suddenly Marna, the pale, fat old -woman who sat at a machine close by the ironers, -spat upon the floor and cried:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A curse on a world like this!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Some looked up in surprise, for Marna rarely -spoke, but the most of them went on without heeding -her until they heard the voice of Scharenstein -with an intonation that was new to them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Right, Marna,” he said. “A terrible world. -A terrible world it is. Ho! ho! ho!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They all looked at him. He was smiling, and -turning around to look from face to face. Then, -still smiling and speaking slowly and hesitatingly, -as if he found it hard to select the right word, he -went on:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“An awful world. They come and take the -woman—hold her down under their knees—hold -her throat tight in their fingers—like I hold this -cloth—tight—and stick a dagger into her heart. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>And they set fire to the house—to the big house—all -the smoke comes out of the windows—and flames—bigger -and hotter than in the stove there—oh, -terrible flames!—and the little boy’s face comes to -the window—and they all laugh. Ho! ho! ho! -Then the whole house falls in—and the little boy’s -face disappears—and oh, how high the flames -go up!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He looked around him, smiling. A chill struck -the heart of every one of his hearers. He shook -his head slowly and said to Marna:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Right, Marna! It is a terrible world.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The sweater was busy with his accounts and had -not heard. But the sudden cessation of work made -him look up, and hearing Scharenstein address the -woman, and seeing others looking at her, he turned -upon Marna.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Confound it! Is this a time to be idling? -Stop your chattering and back to work. We must -finish everything before——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was something harsh and grating in his -voice that seemed to electrify Scharenstein. Dropping -his work, he sprang between the sweater and -Marna and held out his arms beseechingly.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>“Oh, spare her! For God’s sake spare her! -She is an innocent woman! She has done you no -harm!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And as he stood with outstretched arms, his shirt -fell open, and every eye saw plainly upon his -breast the red sign of a crude cross. The sweater -fell back in amazement. Then a sudden light -dawned upon him, and, in an altered tone, he said: -“Very well. I will do her no harm. Sit down, my -friend. You need not work to-day if you are not -feeling well. I will get someone to take your place, -and—and—” (it required a heroic effort) “you -will not lose the day’s pay. You had better go -home.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Scharenstein smiled and thanked the sweater. -Then he started down the stairs. Marna followed -him, and with her arm around him helped him down -the steps.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My little boy is playing in the street,” she -said. “Why don’t you take him for a walk to -the park where you took him before? It will do -you good, and he will be company for you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Scharenstein’s face lit up with pleasure. -Marna’s little boy had frequently accompanied -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>him on his walks to the Battery, and to see the little -fellow romping about and hear him screaming with -delight at the harbour sights had filled Scharenstein’s -heart with exquisite pleasure. He now -sought the boy. He found him playing with his -companions, all of them running like mad through -all that fierce heat.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Boy!” cried Scharenstein. “Look!” The -boy turned and saw Scharenstein standing erect -with one arm held straight over his head, the other -clasped against his breast as though he were hugging -something—the attitude of the statue of -Liberty Enlightening the World. With a shout of -delight he ran toward his friend, crying, “Take -me with you!” And hand in hand they walked -down to the sea-wall.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The boy watched the ships. Scharenstein, -seated in the shade of a tree, feasted his eyes upon -that graceful bronze figure that stood so lonely, -so pensive, yet held aloft so joyfully its hopeful -emblem.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He sat like one entranced, and now and then his -lips would move as though he were struggling to -utter some of the vague thoughts that were floating -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>in his brain. His face, however, was serene, -and his whole frame was relaxed in a delightful, -restful abandon.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The boy played and ran about, and asked -Scharenstein for pennies to buy fruit, and slowly -the hours slipped by. As the sun sank, and the -coolness of night succeeded the painful heat of the -afternoon, Scharenstein moved from his seat and -stood as close to the water’s edge as he could. -Then it grew dark, and the boy came and leaned -wearily against him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I am tired,” he said. “Let us go home now.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Scharenstein took the little fellow in his arms -and perched him upon one of the stone posts.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Soon, boy,” he said. “Soon we will go. -But let us wait to see the statue light her torch.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They gazed out into the gathering darkness. -Scharenstein’s hand caressed the boy’s curly hair; -the little head rested peacefully against his breast,—against -the livid cross that throbbed under his -shirt,—and the pressure stirred tumultuous memories -within him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You are a fine boy,” he said. “But you are -not my boy.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>“I’m mamma’s boy,” murmured the lad, -drowsily.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes. Very true. Very true. You are -mamma’s boy. But I have a little boy, and—dear -me!—I forgot all about him.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Where is he?” asked the boy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Out there,” answered Scharenstein, pointing -to the dim outlines of the statue of Liberty Enlightening -the World. “She is keeping him for -me! But listen!” He lowered his voice to a -whisper. “When I see him again I will ask him -to come and play with you. He often used to play -with me. He can run and sing, and he plays just -like a sweet little angel. Oh, look!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The bright electric light flashed from the -statue’s torch, lighting up the vast harbour with -all its shipping, lighting up the little head that -rested against Scharenstein’s breast, and lighting -up Scharenstein’s face, now drawn and twitching -convulsively.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you see him?” he whispered hoarsely. -“Boy! Do you see my little boy out there? He -has big brown eyes. Do you see him? He is my -only boy. He wants me. He is calling me. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>Wait here, boy. I will go out and bring him -to you. He will play with you. He loves to -play.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gently he lowered his little companion from the -post and carried him to a bench.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Wait here, boy,” he said. “I will soon be -back.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In sleepy wonderment the little fellow watched -Scharenstein take off his hat and coat and climb -over the chain. The moment he disappeared from -view the little fellow became thoroughly awake -and ran forward to the sea-wall. Scharenstein -was swimming clumsily, fiercely out into the -bay.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come back!” cried the boy. “Come back!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He heard Scharenstein’s voice faintly, “I am -coming.” Then again, more faintly still, “I am -coming.” Then all became silent except the lapping -of the waves against the sea-wall, and the -boy began to cry.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was fully an hour before the alarm was given -and a boat lowered, but of Scharenstein they found -no trace. The harbour waters are swift, and the -currents sweep twistingly in many directions. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>The harbour clings tenaciously to its dead—gives -them up only with reluctance and after many days. -And the statue of Liberty Enlightening the World -looks down upon the search and holds out hope. -But it gives no help.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span> - <h2 class='c005'>THE COMPACT</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>The paper lies before me as I write. The bitterness -has all passed. As a matter of fact it was -Sorkin who told it to me as a good story. The -paper read thus:</p> - -<p class='c012'>“<em>Agreement between Ignatz Sorkin and Nathan -Bykowsky, made in Wilna, Russia, December 10, -1861: Sorkin goes to Germany and Bykowsky goes -to America, in New York. In twenty years all the -money they have is put together and each takes -half because the lucky one loves his old friend. -We swear it on the Torah.</em></p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c018'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“<em>Ignatz Sorkin.</em></div> - <div class='line'>“<em>Nathan Bykowsky.</em>”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>It is Sorkin’s story:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The twenty years went by and I came to New -York. My heart was heavy. I had not heard from -Bykowsky for five years. Why had he not written? -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>If he was poor, surely he must have heard -that I was rich, and that half of all I had belonged -to him. And if he was rich, did he mean to break -the agreement? In either case it was bad for me. -If it had not been for that last clause—‘we swear -it on the Torah’! I cannot say. Perhaps I would -not have come. For things had gone well with me -in Germany. I owned twelve thousand dollars. -And I might have forgotten the agreement. But -I had sworn it on the Torah! I could not forget it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Still, what was the use of taking too many -chances? I brought only three thousand dollars -with me. The rest I left in government bonds on -the other side. If Bykowsky was a poor man he -should have half of three thousand dollars. Surely -that was enough for a poor man. I had not sworn -on the Torah to remember the nine thousand dollars.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So I came here. I looked for Bykowsky, but -could not find him. He had worked as a tailor, and -I went from one shop to another asking everybody, -‘Do you know my old friend Bykowsky?’ At -last I found a man who kept a tailor shop. He was -a fine man. He had a big diamond in his shirt. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>Bykowsky? Yes, he remembered Bykowsky. -Bykowsky used to work for him. And where was -he now? He did not know. But when Bykowsky -left his shop he went to open one for himself and -became a boss. A boss? What was a boss? ‘I -am a boss,’ the man said. Then I took a good -look at his diamond. ‘Maybe,’ I thought, ‘if -Bykowsky is a boss, he too has a diamond like -that.’ So I went out to look for Bykowsky the -boss.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then I thought to myself, ‘Why shall I be -stingy? I will tell Bykowsky that I have five thousand -dollars and I will give him half. He was a -good friend of mine. I will be liberal.’ So I -looked and looked everywhere, but nobody seemed -to remember Bykowsky the boss. At last I met a -policeman. He knew Bykowsky. He did not know -where he lived, but he knew him when he was a -tailor boss. ‘Is he not a tailor boss any more?’ I -asked him. ‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘He sold his tailor -shop and opened a saloon.’ ‘Is that a better business -than a tailor shop?’ I asked him. The policeman -laughed at me and said, ‘Sure. A good -saloon is better than a dozen tailor shops.’</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>“H’m! I was very sorry that he did not know -where Bykowsky kept his saloon. I made up my -mind that I would go to every saloon in the city -until I found him. And when I found him I would -say, ‘Bykowsky, I have come to keep the agreement. -I have saved seven thousand dollars. Half -is yours.’ Because I liked Bykowsky. We were -the very best of friends.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I went from saloon to saloon. I am not a -drinking man. But as I did not like to ask so many -questions for nothing I bought a cigar in every -place. Soon I had all my pockets full of cigars. -I do not smoke. I kept the cigars for Bykowsky. -He is a great smoker. Then I met a man who had -once been in Bykowsky’s saloon. He told me what -a place it was. Such looking-glasses! Such fancy -things! And he was making so much money that -he had to hire a man to do nothing but sit at a desk -all day and put the money in a drawer. So I says -to myself, ‘Ah, ha! Dear friend Bykowsky, you -are playing a joke on your dear old friend Sorkin. -You want to wait until he comes and then fill him -with joy by giving him half of that fine saloon -business!’ So I asked the man where that saloon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>was. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘that was several years ago. -Bykowsky made so much money that he gave up -the saloon and went into the real-estate business.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“H’m! I began to understand it. Bykowsky -had been making money so fast that he never had -time to write to me. But never mind. I would go -to him. I would grasp him by the hand and I -would say, ‘Dearest friend of my boyhood, I have -come to you with ten thousand dollars that I have -saved. Half is yours. My only hope is that you -are poor, so that I can have the pleasure of sharing -with you all my wealth.’ Then he will be overcome -and he will get red in the face, and he will tell me -that he has got many hundreds of thousands of dollars -to share with me. Ah, yes!</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There are not so many people in the real-estate -business as in the saloon business. And soon I -found a man who knew all about my friend Bykowsky. -‘The last I heard of him,’ he said, ‘he -went out of the real-estate business. He took all -his money and bought a fine row of houses. And -he said he was not going to work any more.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That was just like dear old Bykowsky. He -was a regular aristocrat. As long as he had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>enough money to live on he did not care to work. -But he would be glad to see his dear old friend. -I would pretend that I did not know how rich he -was. I would be open and honest with him. I -would keep the letter and the spirit of the agreement. -I would not keep back a single cent. ‘Bykowsky,’ -I would say, ‘dear, good, old Bykowsky. -Here I am. I have three thousand dollars in my -pocket. I have nine thousand dollars in good government -bonds in Germany. I also have a fine -gold watch, and a gold chain and a ring, but the -ring is not solid gold. Half of what I have is -yours.’ And we will fall on each other’s shoulders -and be, oh, so glad!</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I found Bykowsky. He was not at home where -he lived. But I found him in a café. He was playing -pinochle with the proprietor. I took a good long -look at him. He did not know me, but I recognised -him right away. I went over and held out -my hand. ‘It is my old friend Bykowsky!’ I -said. He looked at me and got very red in the face. -‘Ah, ha!’ I said to myself. ‘I have guessed -right.’ Then he cried, ‘Sorkin!’ and we threw our -arms around each other. ‘Bykowsky,’ I said, ‘I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>have come many thousand miles to keep our boyhood -agreement. Maybe you and I might have -forgotten it, but we swore on the Torah, and I -know that you could not forget it any more than I -could. I have three thousand dollars in my pocket. -I have nine thousand dollars in good government -bonds in Germany. I have a fine gold watch and a -gold chain and a ring, but the ring is not solid -gold. Half of what I have is yours. I hope—oh, -Bykowsky, I am so selfish—I hope that you -are poor so that I can have the pleasure of dividing -with you.’ Then Bykowsky said, ‘Let me see the -ring!’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I showed him the ring, and he shook his head -very sadly. ‘You are right, Sorkin,’ he said. ‘It -is not solid gold.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Well, dear friend,’ I said, ‘how has the world -gone with you?’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Very badly,’ he said. ‘Let me see the watch -and the chain.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Something told me he was joking. So I said, -‘Please keep the watch and chain as a token of our -old friendship. We will not count it in the division. -But I am sorry to hear that things have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>gone badly with you. Why did you not’ (this -was only a sly hint) ‘go into the real-estate business? -I hear so many people are getting rich that -way.’</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then he sighed—and I felt that something -was wrong.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“‘Dear friend Sorkin,’ he said. ‘Dearest -comrade of my boyhood days, I have a sad story -to tell you. A year ago I owned a fine row of -houses. I had nearly two hundred thousand dollars. -I was looking forward to the time when I -would write to you, dear, kind old friend, and ask -you to come over to share with me all my wealth. -But alas! The wheel of fortune turned! I began -to speculate. It is a long, sad story. Two months -ago I sold the last of my houses. To-day I have -three hundred dollars left. Dear, sweet Sorkin, -you come as a Godsend from heaven. My luck has -turned!’”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Here there was a long pause in Sorkin’s story. -Then he said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My son, even to this day when I think of that -moment, I feel the sensation of choking.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>“But did you keep the compact?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And, in a flash, I regretted the question.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I had sworn on the Torah,” Sorkin replied.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>The firm of Sorkin & Bykowsky has recently -changed its name to Sorkin, Bykowsky & Co. The -Co. is young Ignatz Sorkin Bykowsky. There is -also a young Nathan Bykowsky Sorkin. But he -is still at school.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span> - <h2 class='c005'>A SONG OF SONGS</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>I know a story that runs almost like a song—like -that old song, “Behold, thou art fair, my love; -behold, thou art fair!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In the heart of the Jewish quarter stood an old -Catholic church, relic of those bygone days ere the -oppressed Jews of Russia and Austria had learned -that this land was a haven of refuge, and had come -to settle in this neighbourhood by the hundreds of -thousands. Close by this church lived the Rabbi -Sarna, one of the earliest of the immigrants—an -honest, whole-souled man who knew the Talmud -and the Kabbala by heart, and who had a daughter. -Her name was Hannah—and there the story and -the song began.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It began in the days when Hannah was a young -girl, who would sit for hours on her father’s doorstep -with a school-book in her lap, and when Richard -Shea was altar boy in the Catholic church -close by, and would spend most of his time on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>doorstep beside Hannah. And they lived a life -of dreams, those happy dreams that abound in the -realm of childhood, where no thought is darkened -by the grim monsters of reality, the sordid facts of -life.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In those days Richard’s tasks in the service of -the Holy Roman Church possessed but little significance -for him. It was his duty to swing the -censer, to light the candles, and to carry the Book -at Mass, and when the task was done Richard’s only -thought was of Hannah, who was sitting on her -father’s doorstep waiting for him. Father Brady, -the rector of the Catholic church, who was Richard’s -guardian—for the lad was an orphan, and -had been left entirely in the priest’s care—was very -exacting in all affairs that pertained to his parish, -and insisted that Richard should perform his -duties carefully and conscientiously. But when -the service was over his vigilance relaxed, and, so -long as there was no complaint from the neighbours, -the lad might do as he pleased. And it -was Richard’s greatest pleasure to be with Hannah.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They would sit for hours in the long summer -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>nights, hand in hand, building those wonderful -fabrics of childish imagination, looking forward -hopefully, enthusiastically, to a future whose basis, -whose essence was an eternal companionship of their -two souls. There came a night—perhaps it was -because the stars were brighter than usual, perhaps -because the night was balmy, or perhaps because -the spirit of spring was in the air—at any rate, -that fatal night came when, in some unaccountable -manner, their lips came together, came closely, -tightly together, in a long, lingering kiss, and -the next moment they found themselves flooded in -a stream of light. Hastily, guiltily they looked -up. The door had been opened, and the Rabbi -Sarna was looking down upon them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Hannah’s father kissed her that night as usual, -and she went to bed without hearing a word of -reproach or of paternal advice. Whether he had -gained his wisdom from the Kabbala or the Talmud -I do not know, but the Rabbi Sarna was a -wise man. He took a night to think the matter -over. Perhaps he felt that the bringing-up of a -motherless daughter was no trivial matter, and -that there were times when, being a man, his instinct -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>was sure to be wrong, and that only the most -careful consideration and deliberate thought could -guide him into the right path. For a whole day -he said nothing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The following evening, however, when the grace -after meal had been said, and “Hear, O Israel!” -had been recited, he laid his hand fondly upon his -daughter’s head and spoke to her, kindly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Remember, Hannah,” he said, “the lad is not -one of our people. He is a good lad, and I like -him, but you are a daughter of Israel. You come -of a race, Hannah, that has been persecuted for -thousands of years by his people. If your mother -were alive, she would forbid you ever to see him -again. But I do not feel that I ought to be so -harsh. I only ask you, my daughter, to remember -that you are of a race that was chosen by Jehovah, -and that he comes from a race that has made us -suffer misery for many ages.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Hannah went to bed and cried, and rebelled at -the injustice of an arrangement that seemed to her -all wrong and distorted. Why were not the Jewish -lads that she knew as tall and straight as her Richard? -And why had they not blue eyes like his? -<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>And curly, golden hair? And that strength? -And she cried herself to sleep.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In some unaccountable manner—it may have -been that the rabbi told the butcher and the butcher -told the baker—the matter reached the ears of -Richard’s guardian, who promptly took the lad to -task for it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Remember, Richard,” he said, “she is a Jewess. -You need not look so fierce. I know that she -is a nice little girl, but, after all, her father is a -Jew, and her mother was a Jewess. They have always -been the enemy of our religion. You know -enough of history to know what suffering they -have caused. I have not the slightest objection to -your seeing her and talking to her, but things -seem to have gone a little too far. You must remember -that you cannot marry her. So what is the -use of wasting your time?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And, of course, Richard went to bed very glum -and disheartened. For a long time he did not see -Hannah, and when, after several weeks, they came -face to face again, each bowed, somewhat stiffly, -and promptly felt that the bottom had dropped out -of life.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>So the years passed, and the dreams of childhood -passed, and many changes came. Hannah -grew to be a young woman, and her beauty increased. -Her eyes were dark and big, her cheeks -were of the olive tint that predominates in her race, -but enlivened by a rosy tinge; she grew tall and -very dignified in her carriage—and Richard, each -time he saw her, was reminded of the canticle, “Behold, -thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art -fair!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He, too, had grown older, had grown taller and -manlier; the boldness and audacity that had captivated -the fancy of the Jewish lass had developed -into manly strength and forceful personality; but -his heart had not freed itself from that early attachment. -While the service lasted, and the odour -of incense rose to his nostrils, and the pomp and -ceremony of his religion thrilled his whole being, -Hannah was only a memory, a dim recollection of -a life-long past. But when, from time to time, he -met her and saw the look of joy that lit up her -eyes, Hannah became a vivid, stirring, all-absorbing -reality. And Richard was troubled.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Father Brady sent Richard to the seminary to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>prepare for the priesthood. For two winters Richard -pursued his theological studies, pursued them -with zeal, and devoted himself heart and soul to -the career his fond guardian had selected for him. -And for two summers, during which he helped his -guardian in the parish work, the young man struggled -and fought and battled manfully with the -problem of Hannah. They had spoken but little to -each other. The dream of childhood had passed, -and they had grown to realise the enormity of the -barrier that rose between them—a barrier of races, -of empires, of ages—a monstrous barrier before -whose leviathan proportions they were but insignificant -atoms. And yet——</p> - -<p class='c000'>It came like one of those levantine storms, when -one moment the sky is blue and the air is still, and -the next moment the floodgates of heaven are open, -and the air is black with tempest. The Rabbi -Sarna came rushing to the house of Father Brady. -They had known each other for years, and a certain -intimacy, based upon mutual respect for each -other’s learning and integrity, had grown up between -them. And the rabbi poured forth his tale -of woe.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>“I begged, I implored her,” he ran on, “to tell -me the cause of her stubbornness. The finest young -men you ever saw, one after another, handsome, -strong, well-to-do, have asked her, and have come -to me to intercede for them. And at last I went to -her and begged her, beseeched her to tell me why -she persisted in refusing them all. I am an old man. -I cannot live many years longer. The dearest wish -of my heart is to see her happily married and -settled in life. And she persists in driving every -suitor from the house. And what do you think -she told me?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A horrible suspicion came into the priest’s head, -but all he said was, “I cannot guess.” The rabbi -was gasping with excitement.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She loves that Richard of yours. If she cannot -marry him she will not marry anyone else. I -told her she was crazy. Her only fear was that I -would tell you—or him. She does not even realise -the enormity of it! The girl is out of her head!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The priest held out his hand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I thank you,” he said, “for warning me in -time. It was an act of kindness. I will see that an -end is put to the matter at once. At least, so far -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>as Richard is concerned. If he is to blame for that -feeling on your daughter’s part I will see that he -does whatever is necessary to remedy the harm he -has done. His course in life has been laid out. He -will be a priest. I am very thankful to you for -coming to me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi was greatly troubled. “I do not -know what to do,” he said. “I am all in a whirl. -I felt that it was only right that you should know. -But I cannot imagine what can be done.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Leave it to me,” said Father Brady. As soon -as the rabbi had departed he sent for Richard.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What is this I hear about that Jewish girl?” -he demanded, sternly. Richard turned pale.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What!” cried the priest. “Is it possible that -you are to blame?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“To blame?” asked Richard. “I? For -what?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Only this minute,” the priest went on, “her -father was here with a story that it made my blood -boil to hear. The girl has rejected all her suitors, -and tells her father that she will marry no one but -you or——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>With a loud cry Richard sprang toward the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>door. There was a chair in the way, but it went -spinning across the room.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Richard!” roared his guardian. “What is all -this?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But Richard, bareheaded and coatless, was tearing -down the stairs, three, four, five at a time, and -the next moment there was a crash that made the -house tremble to its foundation. Richard had gone -out, and had shut the door behind him. The rabbi, -homeward bound, was nearing his door when a -young whirlwind, hatless and coatless, rushed by -him. The rabbi stood still, amazed. His amazement -grew when he beheld this tornado whirl up -the steps of his house and throw itself violently -against the door. As he ran forward to see what -was happening the door opened and Hannah stood -on the threshold, the light behind her streaming -upon her shining hair. And, the next instant, all -the wisdom that he had learned from the Talmud -and the Kabbala deserted him. In after years he -confessed that at that moment he felt like a fool. -For the tempestuous Richard had seized Hannah -in his arms and was kissing her cheeks and her -lips and her eyes, and pouring out a perfect torrent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>of endearing phrases. And Hannah’s arms -were tightly wound around his neck, and she was -crying as though she feared that all the elements -were about to try to drag the young man from her. -A glint of reason returned to the rabbi.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hold!” he cried. “Foolish children! Stand -apart! Listen to me!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They turned and looked at him. The Rabbi -Sarna looked into the eyes of Richard. But what -he saw there troubled him. He could not bear the -young man’s gaze. Almost in despair he turned -to his daughter. “Hannah,” he began. Then he -looked into her eyes, and his gaze fell. He sighed -and walked past them into the house. In an instant -he was forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, thou art fair, my love!” cried Richard. -“Thou art fair!”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>When “the traveller from New Zealand” stands -upon the last remaining arch of London Bridge -and gazes upon the ruins of St. Paul’s, the Catholic -Church will still flourish. And when the nations -of the earth have died and their names have -become mere memories, as men to-day remember -<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>the Phœnicians and the Romans, then will there -still rise to heaven that daily prayer, “Hear, O -Israel!” And in the chronicles of neither of these -religions will there ever be found mention of either -Richard Shea or his wife Hannah. But, if that -story be true of the Great Book in which the lives -of all men are written down, and the motives of all -their deeds recorded in black and white, then surely -there is a page upon which these names appear. -And perhaps, occasionally, an angel peeps at it -and brushes away a tear and smiles.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span> - <h2 class='c005'>A WEDDING IN DURESS</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c014'>In the days when the Ashkenazim and the -Sephardim were divided by walls of sentiment and -pride, as difficult to surmount as the walls that -separated patrician from plebeian in ancient Rome, -an Ashkenazi youth married a Sephardi maiden. -It happened some four hundred or five hundred -years ago. Youth and maiden are dust, their romance -is forgotten, and we owe them an apology -for disturbing their memory. Let us only add that -the youth’s name was Zalman. May Mr. and Mrs. -Zalman rest in peace!</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Zalman, the tailor, lived in Essex Street on the -same floor with the Rabbi Elsberg. Zalman possessed -two treasures, each a rarity of exquisite -beauty, each vying with the other for supremacy -in his affections. The one was a wine glass of Venetian -make, wonderful in its myriad-hued colouring, -its fragile texture, and its rare design. The -mate of it rests in one of the famous museums of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>Italy, and the connoisseurs came from far and near -to feast their eyes upon Zalman’s piece. Money, in -sums that would have made Zalman a rich man in -that neighbourhood, had been offered to him for -this treasure, but he always shook his head.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It has been in my family for hundreds of -years,” he would say, “and I cannot part with it. -Years ago—many, many years ago—our family -was wealthy, but now I have nothing left save this -one wine glass. I would rather die than lose it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>His visitors would depart with feelings of -mingled wonder and rage; wonder that so priceless -a gem should be in the possession of a decrepit, untidy, -poverty-stricken East Side tailor; and rage -that he should be so stubborn as to cling to it in -spite of the most alluring offers that were made to -him. Zalman’s other treasure was his daughter -Barbara, whose name, like the wine glass, had descended -from some long-forgotten Spanish or -Italian ancestress. All the lavish praise that the -most enthusiastic lover of things beautiful had -ever lavished upon that wonderful wine glass -would have applied with equal truth to Barbara. -Excepting that Barbara was distinctly modern.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>Reuben sat in the Rabbi Elsberg’s sitting-room, -frowning and unhappy; the rabbi, puffing reflectively -at a long pipe, gazing at him in silence. -Through the walls they could hear Barbara singing. -Barbara always sang when she was merry, -and Barbara was merry, as a rule, from the moment -she left her bed until she returned to it. The rabbi -took a longer puff than usual, and then asked -Reuben:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What said her father?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Reuben gulped several times as if the words that -crowded to his lips for utterance were choking -him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is well for him that he is her father,” he -finally said. “I would not have listened to so -much abuse from any other living man.” (Reuben, -by the way, had a most determined-looking -chin, and there was something very earnest in the -cut of his features.)</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He gave me to understand,” he went on, “that -he knew perfectly well it was his wine glass I was -after, and not his daughter. That I was counting -on his dying soon, and already looked forward to -selling that precious glass to spend the money in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>riotous living. And when I told him that Barbara -and I loved each other, he said ‘Bosh!’ and forbade -me to speak of it again.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi puffed in silence for a moment.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He evidently has not a flattering opinion of -you, my young friend.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He knows nothing against me!” Reuben hurriedly -exclaimed. “It is only because I want -Barbara. He would say the same to anyone else -that asked for his daughter. You know me, rabbi; -you have known me a long time, ever since I was a -child. I do not pretend to be an angel, but I am -not bad. I love the girl, and I can take good care -of her. I don’t want to see his old wine glass again. -I’d smash it into a——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Reuben’s jaw fell, and his eyes stared vacantly -at the wall. The rabbi followed his gaze, and, -seeing nothing, turned to Reuben in surprise.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What is it?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nothing,” replied Reuben, with a sheepish -grin. “I—I just happened to think of something.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi frowned. “If you are often taken -with such queer ideas that make you look so idiotic, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>I don’t think I can blame Zalman so very much.” -But Reuben’s contrite expression immediately -caused him to regret his momentary annoyance, -and holding out his hand, he said, affectionately:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come, Reuben, I will do what I can for you. -You are a good boy, and if you and the girl love -each other I will see if there is not some way of -overcoming her father’s objections.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Taking Reuben by the arm he led him into Zalman’s -shop. Zalman was not alone. A little -shrivelled old man, evidently a connoisseur of -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">objets d’art</span></i>, was holding the wonderful wine -glass to the light, gloating over the bewildering -play of colours that flashed from it, while Zalman -anxiously hovered about him, eager to receive the -glass in his own hands again, yet proudly calling -the old man’s attention to its hidden beauties.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Barbara stood in the doorway that led to the -living-rooms in the rear. When she saw Reuben -she blushed and smiled.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Zalman looked up and saw the rabbi and smiled; -saw who was with him and frowned.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I just dropped in to have a little chat,” said -<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>the rabbi, “but there is no hurry. I will wait until -you are disengaged.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The connoisseur carefully set the glass upon the -counter, and heaved a long, painful sigh.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And no price will tempt you to part with it?” -he asked. Zalman shook his head and grinned. -What followed happened with exceeding swiftness.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Zalman had got as far as, “It has been in our -family for hundreds of years——” when a shadow -caused him to turn his head. He saw Barbara -throw up her hands in amazement, saw the rabbi -start forward as though he were about to interfere -in something, and saw the precious wine glass in -Reuben’s hand. Mechanically he reached forward -to take it from him, and then instantly felt Reuben’s -other hand against his breast, holding him -back, and heard Reuben saying, quite naturally, -“Wait!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It had not taken ten seconds—Zalman suddenly -felt sick.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The connoisseur hastily put on his glasses. The -situation seemed interesting.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mr. Zalman,” said Reuben, speaking very -slowly and distinctly, yet carefully keeping the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>tailor at arm’s length, “I told you this very day -that your daughter Barbara and I love each other. -We will not marry without your consent. So you -must consent. If I cannot marry Barbara I do not -care what happens to me. I will have nothing to -live for. I can give her a good home, and we will -be very happy. You can come to live with us, if -you like, and I will always be a good son to you. -I swear by the Torah that this glass is nothing to -me. I want Barbara because I love her, and you -can throw this glass into the river for all I care. -But if you do not give your consent I also swear -by the Torah that I shall fling this glass to the -floor and smash it into a thousand pieces.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Zalman, who had been clutching Reuben’s outstretched -arm throughout this speech, and had followed -every word with staring eyes and open -mouth, dropped his arms and groaned. Barbara -had listened in amazement to Reuben’s first words, -but when his meaning dawned upon her she had -clapped her kerchief to her mouth and fled precipitately -through the doorway whence now came faint -sounds which, owing to the distance, might have -been either loud weeping or violent laughter. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>rabbi’s face had reddened with indignation. The -connoisseur alone was smiling.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Reuben,” said the rabbi sternly, “you have -gone too far. Put the glass down!” He advanced -toward the young man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hold!” cried Reuben. “If anyone in this -room touches me or attempts to take this glass from -me, I shall quickly hurl it to the floor. Look, -everybody!” He held the glass aloft. “See how -fragile it is! I have only to hold it a little tighter -and it will break into a dozen pieces, and no human -skill will ever be able to put them together again!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Zalman was in agony.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I yield,” he cried. “Give me the glass. You -shall marry Barbara to-morrow. Do not hold it so -tightly. Put it down gently.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He held out his hand. His lips were twitching -with repressed curses on Reuben’s head. But -Reuben only smiled.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, good father,” he said. “Not to-morrow. -You might change your mind. Let it be now, and -your glass is safe.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>(“What a pertinacious young man!” thought -the connoisseur.)</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>“May the fiends devour you!” cried Zalman.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now look you,” said Reuben, twirling the -delicate glass in a careless way that sent chill shudders -down the tailor’s spine; “it is you who are -stubborn. Not I. If you knew how devotedly I -loved Barbara you would not, you could not be so -heartless as to keep us apart.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The foul fiends!” muttered Zalman. Beads of -perspiration stood out upon his forehead; he was -very pale.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You were young yourself once,” Reuben went -on. “For the sake of your own youth, cast aside -your stubbornness and give us your consent. Barbara! -Barbara! Where are you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The young woman, blushing like a rose, came -out and stood beside him with lowered head and -downcast eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You see,” said Reuben, gently encircling her -waist, “we love each other.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The foul fiends!” muttered Zalman.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Help me, Barbara! Help me to plead with -your father,” urged Reuben. But Barbara, -abashed, could not find courage to raise her voice. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>Besides, she kept her kerchief pressed tightly -against her lips.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Would you make your own daughter unhappy -for the rest of her life?” Reuben went on. (At -every sentence Zalman murmured as far as “The -foul fiends!” then stopped.) “Everything is -ready save your consent. The good Rabbi Elsberg -is here. He can marry us on the spot. We -can dispense with the betrothal. Our hearts have -been betrothed for more than a year. I want no -dowry. I only want Barbara. Can you be so -cruel as to keep us apart?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The glass slipped from his fingers as if by accident, -but deftly his hand swooped below it and -caught it, unharmed. The tailor almost swooned.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Take her!” he cried, hoarsely. “In the foul -fiend’s name take her! And give me the glass!” -He held out his trembling hands. With a joyful -cry Reuben pressed the girl tightly against his -heart, and was about to kiss her when the rabbi’s -voice rang out:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“This is outrageous! I refuse to have anything -to do with marrying them!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Reuben turned pale. To be so near victory, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>and now to lose everything through the desertion -of his old friend, was an unexpected, disheartening -blow. The tailor’s face brightened. Barbara, -who had looked up quickly when the rabbi -spoke, began to cry softly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I have consented,” said Zalman. “That was -what you asked, was it not? Now give me back -my wine glass. I can do no more.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A faint smile had come into his face. It must -have been his evil guardian who prompted that -smile, for it gave Reuben heart.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If the rabbi will not marry us immediately,” -said Reuben, “then I have lost everything, and -have nothing more to live for.” With the utmost -deliberation he raised an enormous iron that lay -upon the counter, placed the glass carefully upon -the floor, and held the iron directly over it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I shall crush the glass into a million tiny bits -beneath this ponderous weight!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hold!” screamed the tailor. “He shall -marry you! Please, oh, please! Marry them, -rabbi! For my sake, marry them! I beg it of -you! I cannot bear to see my precious glass under -that horrible weight! Don’t let it fall! For -<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>God’s sake, hold it tight! Oh, rabbi, marry them, -marry them, marry them! Let me have my -glass!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi glared at Reuben, then at the tailor, -who was almost on his knees before him, and then -at the face of the connoisseur, who, somewhat embarrassed -at finding himself observed in that exciting -moment, said, apologetically, “I—I don’t -mind being a witness.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The rabbi married them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is not for either of you that I am doing -this,” he said, in stern accents. “You have disgraced -yourselves—both of you. But for the -sake of this old man, my friend, who holds that -bauble so high that I fear he will lose his reason -if any harm befall it, I yield.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They were married. And then—and not until -then—Reuben raised the precious wine glass, glittering -and sparkling with multi-coloured fire, -gently from the floor and placed it upon the counter. -But he held fast to the iron. Zalman -pounced upon his heirloom, examined it carefully -to see whether the faintest mishap had marred its -beauty, held it tightly against his breast, and with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>upraised arm turned upon his daughter and her -husband. With flashing eyes and pallid lips, he -cried:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“May the foul fiends curse you! May God, in -His righteousness——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was a sound of crashing glass. Whether -in his excitement the tailor’s fingers had, for one -instant, relaxed their grip; whether mysterious -Fate, through some psychic or physical agency -had playfully wrought a momentary paralysis of -his nerves; whether—but who may penetrate these -things? The glass had slipped from his hand. -That exquisite creation of a skill that had perished -centuries ago, that fragile relic of a forgotten art -which, only a moment ago, had sparkled and glittered -as though a hundred suns were imprisoned -within its frail sides, now lay upon the floor in a -thousand shapeless fragments.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> -<p> </p> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -<p> </p> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE</h2> -</div> - <ol class='ol_1 c003'> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors. - - </li> - <li>Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - </li> - </ol> -</div> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN OF MEN***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 54761-h.htm or 54761-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/4/7/6/54761">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/7/6/54761</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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